The next morning, Arthur woke to the faint smell of smoke and the distant clamor of the slums. Darius was already moving, checking the edges of the building, tapping on walls, scanning the streets like a predator assessing prey.
"Come on," he said, voice low. "Today you'll see why I said survival out here isn't easy."
Arthur followed, every step aching, the Soulborne chains pulsing sharply in his chest. The city beyond the slums seemed distant, almost unreal. Here, the streets were narrow, cluttered with refuse and debris. Every shadow held potential danger. Every passing figure could be friend—or enemy.
Darius led him into a side alley where a group of ragged youths were cornering a man. The man was trembling, hands raised, pleading. Darius slowed, observing quietly.
Arthur's stomach turned. "What… what's happening?"
Darius's eyes glinted, faint amusement flickering across his features. "Lesson one," he said softly, almost conversational. "Out here, power decides everything. Watch and learn."
The youths demanded the man hand over a small pouch. When he hesitated, one of them shoved him roughly. A quick motion from Darius, and the pouch was gone—now in his hands, not the youths'. The man froze, staring at Darius in awe and fear.
"Do you see?" Darius said, tossing the pouch lightly between his hands. "Weakness doesn't earn mercy. Fear doesn't save you. You take what you need… and you pay attention to who's watching."
Arthur's eyes flicked to him. There was a faint, almost imperceptible smirk. Something in the way he moved, the slight thrill in his gaze, made Arthur pause. This wasn't just survival instinct. There was a dark edge, a careful enjoyment of the imbalance he created.
Arthur swallowed, understanding at last why people like Darius were feared, even hunted. Not because they sought conflict, but because they thrived in it—calculated, measured, precise. And in that moment, Arthur felt a cold knot in his stomach. He had stepped into a world far harsher than the academy. And he wasn't just learning the rules—he was learning that the man guiding him might be more dangerous than anyone else here.
Darius turned to him, expression unreadable. "…You'll need to pay attention if you want to last. Out here, hesitation is a luxury nobody survives."
Arthur nodded silently, every pulse of the chains reminding him he was still bound, still punished, still utterly exposed. But something stubborn within him refused to yield.
Even as he began to glimpse Darius's subtle, sadistic tendencies, Arthur forced himself to focus elsewhere. Survival came first. The Soulborne chains weren't going to wait for him to process morality or fear—they pulsed relentlessly, punishing every ounce of hesitation.
Darius led him through the twisting alleys, past shuttered doors and the faint glow of firelight in broken windows. "Lesson two," he said without looking back, "if someone tries to take from you, you either stop them… or you make them pay."
A low groan echoed from a nearby alley. Arthur saw a man clutching his chest, life seemingly draining from him, though no one else was near. Darius's hand flicked toward him, just barely visible, and the man sagged to the ground, pale and trembling. A faint shimmer of energy left his body, absorbed quietly into Darius.
Arthur's stomach clenched. He recognized it—not in shock, but in the cold familiarity of things he had seen in a past life. Life force absorption… same as them… He swallowed hard, fighting the urge to step back. As long as he doesn't turn on me, I'll survive. My task comes first. Rex. Nothing else matters.
Darius glanced at him, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "Don't look so shocked. You'll see worse out here."
Arthur forced himself to look away, to focus on the streets ahead. The slums were alive—every corner had eyes, every shadow a potential threat. He reminded himself: he didn't belong here yet, and the slums were only temporary. Rex's reincarnated soul wouldn't be in this cesspool of humanity's refuse. His mind began calculating—coins for food, for shelter, for information. He needed a plan. Survival wasn't enough; he needed resources.
Alora's currency—silvers, golds… a few coins could buy a day of safety, a roof over my head. Every silver earned is a step closer to finding Rex.