Vita had begun his aimless wandering through Golden Indus street . Now that his frantic thoughts had settled, he started thinking—really thinking—about the many possible routes to a safer future.
"Hmm... let's see. First, I should probably get secure, reliable housing. Only two real options. Either I go to the West District Poorhouse—which honestly isn't as bad as the novel made it sound. Biggest issue, though, is I've got no ID, no documents. Damn loan sharks took everything. Probably sold my identity on the black market. Tch."
Clicking his tongue like a field medic diagnosing a dying patient, Vita continued his shuffle. He had a goal in mind: Golden Indus Street.
"Only option left is... one of the churches. And if I had to pick one—Mommy Everni—nope. Nope. If I go down that line of thought, I'm gonna die. Burst into flames or something. Okay. Yeah. The Evernight Church. Best option. Only one I have actual info on."
He had already traveled a considerable distance. From before dawn until dusk, he'd been walking.
"Excuse me, miss. Do you know where the Blackthorn Security Company is?" Vita asked a passing young woman dressed like she'd just walked out of a Victorian painting—high society and full of herself.
"Ehh… yeah. Keep going straight for a dozen steps or so, then turn right. That's where most of the non-service businesses are. And please don't come near me, you beggar."
Rude, but informative. He got what he needed.
The streets bustled, alive with people going about their day. But Vita didn't feel part of that world. His steps were heavier. Hungrier. He needed a way out—a way to survive.
Skkkuulge.
A visceral sound slid into his ears. Faint but present. Oddly… alluring. It came from a narrow corner street, just a few blocks from the non-service area of Golden Indus Street.
Curious. But not stupid.
He reached into the inner pocket of his old, dirt-stained jacket. Once a coarse cotton coat, now a tattered shell barely keeping death at bay. The only reason he hadn't frozen to death in the last few weeks.
He pulled out a small knife. Its handle was broken—probably why it had been thrown away. But the blade still had some bite.
He slipped it into his right sleeve, hiding it as he made his way down the alley. The eerie quiet wrapped tighter with every step.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The occasional drip of water from cold pipes added to the melody. A slow, suspenseful rhythm.
He counted at least twenty steps in. The alley ended at a wall. A dead end.
"Ah... so it was nothing."
He exhaled. Cautiously relaxed.
Then noticed the floor. A tar-like liquid smeared across the ground.
"What is that…?"
His curiosity barely had time to breathe before something massive dropped down.
No sound.
None.
It should've made a noise. But it didn't.
A giant, twisted creature stood before him. Humanoid in shape, but nothing else about it was right.
"Whyyy... whyy I... dr-drank it. So why am I not a Beyonder…?"
The creature slurred the words, and clarity slammed into Vita like a bucket of ice.
A failed potion. A poor soul who wanted to be something—anything—more. But instead, he'd become a monster. A lost child, driven mad.
Vita took a step back, careful not to get pinned to the alley wall but keeping just enough distance.
The creature lunged.
Its wide arms scraped the alley walls, getting stuck. Luck. Pure luck.
Vita bolted. Dove forward, slipping through the narrow opening its swing had created. As he passed, he slashed—blade glinting once. Just enough to draw blood.
A shallow cut. Pathetic, but it was something.
Vita continued the slash—not deep enough to damage it. After all, this thing was a supernatural being, and he was swinging around a rusty blade barely sharper than a spoon. It was like trying to cut a boulder with a rubber ball.
The creature, agitated by Vita's attack, roared and swung down, aiming to crush him like an ant.
BOOM.
The ground where Vita had just been standing cracked and crumbled into dust, the impact deafening in the alley's narrow confines. But likely not loud enough to reach outside—just another noise in a forgotten street.
Vita leapt, using the creature's own arm like a springboard, and lunged forward, jamming his knife into one of its eyes.
"AURGHGHHH!"
The creature thrashed in fury and pain, howling as Vita clung to folds of its mutated skin like a rock climber bouldering a living nightmare. Then it brought its massive fist inward—an attack meant to squash Vita against itself.
But fate, cruel and whimsical, had a moment of mercy.
Just as the blow landed, Vita's grip slipped. His exhausted arms gave out, and he fell—barely missing the crushing blow. Instead, the monster's own strength turned against it. The fist rammed into its face, shoving the embedded knife deeper, through the eye and into its brain.
It staggered.
Thrashed.
And then it collapsed, twitching once... and dying.
"Is it dead?"
Vita, chest still heaving, picked up a chunk of debris—broken brick from the earlier attack—and hurled it at the corpse. He waited.
A minute passed. Then another.
Nothing.
He crept closer and began rifling through what remained of the creature. Bits of its old clothing were still fused with its flesh. In the pockets, he found a half-empty bottle containing a mysterious cyan liquid—clearly a Beyonder potion—and two folded letters.
He scanned them quickly.
One was a recipe: Monster, Sequence 9, from the Wheel of Fortune pathway.
The other was a handwritten letter, barely legible from the creature's once-human hands:
"Good evenin', my dearest brothers. I have managed to piece together a potion. That man wasn't lying—he gave us the correct information. Brewen Ernest was a fool, giving away something so precious for a few documents. I'll test the potion. If it works, we'll finally have Tingen under our control.
That said, Brewen warned me… told me not to lose myself. Said I'd cease to be human if I did. Thought he was clever, trying to scare me off. But we'll see who laughs last."
Vita raised an eyebrow.
"Wheel of Fortune… huh. I wanted Lucky Man anyway."
He weighed the bottle in his hand. "Guess it's not the potion's fault he lost control. He just wasn't built for it. Lucky for me—I am."
He grinned, brought the bottle to his lips, and drank.
At once, the world twisted.
Colors dulled. Shapes blurred. Everything became translucent yet impossibly solid. And the whispers... gods, the whispers. A chorus of endless murmurs pressed against his mind, like static scraping the inside of his skull.
"Ha-hamp—okay, okay, breathe. Inhale. Exhale. Don't lose yourself."
He dropped to one knee, eyes wide, pupils shaking. But he focused—reached for old yoga breathing exercises from another life, from another world. It helped. Not enough to drown the madness, but enough to stay afloat.
When the haze lifted, Vita stood. Unsteady. Changed.
And smiling.
"Nice. Got myself a power… and a trade. Thank you, Miss Evernight."
With the dead monster behind him and the potion settling into his blood, Vita began walking again—toward the Blackthorn Security Company, now with a way in and a new path ahead.