High above the town, wedged between jagged cliffs and draped in mist like the breath of something dying, stood a twisted structure of timber and stone that might once have been a watchtower—or perhaps a temple.
Whatever it had been before, it now served a far darker purpose.
Inside, iron cages lined the walls like jagged teeth. Behind their bars, things moved.
Growled.
Clicked.
The Rock Beasts.
They were unlike anything else in the world—living creatures whose bodies gleamed like precious minerals, their hides threaded with glowing veins, their eyes burning with unnatural light. One resembled a dog sculpted from volcanic glass, smoke curling from its nostrils with every breath. Another coiled around a branch like a serpent, scales glittering like crushed emeralds.
And watching them all with greedy delight... was Terry the Butcher.
Tall as a doorway and thin as a rusted blade, Terry stood in the center of the lair like a corpse that had never realized it was dead. Piercings covered every inch of his pale, stretched skin—hooks through his cheeks, tiny blades hanging from his ears, shimmering studs embedded along his fingers, nose, and even his eyelids. His light brown hair jutted out in frayed tufts like snapped wires.
A bounty of 3,000 gold hung over his head.
Terry hummed something tuneless as he wandered past the cages with a lantern, tapping each set of bars with his knuckles.
"My, my, my..." he whispered. "Aren't we in a mood today? Someone didn't eat their iron flakes this morning..."
One of the beasts hissed.
Terry giggled.
Across the room, a group of rough-looking bandits sat around a map, chewing dried meat and sharpening daggers.
"Boss," one of them said, rising to his feet. "Report from the southeast outpost. A Rock Beast's been spotted. Stable energy reading. Town called... Flower Town."
Terry tilted his head, cracked lips parting into a smile.
"Flower Town..." he repeated, almost lovingly. "Close."
"Yeah. Close enough to hit by tonight."
Terry's pupils widened.
"Well," he said, flicking a small hook from beneath his tongue and sliding it neatly through his eyebrow, "let us not keep it waiting."
Flower Town – Lower Market District
The cobblestone streets were packed.
People swarmed like ants under a kicked log—laughing, shouting, bargaining, and shoving past one another without apology.
Through it all, a wooden cart wobbled forward, pulled by a bony, deeply unimpressed donkey and steered by a wide-eyed boy clinging to the reins like they were the last rope on earth.
Matsu's mouth hung open.
Buildings stacked atop buildings. Flags fluttered between windows. Someone tossed a fish from a second-floor balcony, and someone else caught it in their mouth. Music blared from three directions at once, and the air smelled of spice, sweat, and opportunity.
"Whoa..." Matsu whispered as he climbed down from the cart. "Never seen so many people before."
He patted Caesar's side.
The donkey blinked once—then casually stepped sideways into a tower of fruit baskets, sending them crashing across the street.
"Hey! Watch it!" a vendor shouted.
"Sorry! Sorry!" Matsu cried, bowing frantically while trying to shove Caesar back into line.
Nearby, two knights in regulation armor—dented, but still polished—watched the scene with bored contempt.
Oldot stood stiffly with his chest puffed out, a crooked saber at his hip and a meticulously waxed handlebar mustache twitching with disapproval. Beside him, Babel, taller and broader, leaned lazily against a doorway.
Oldot narrowed his eyes and stepped forward.
"Well, well," he drawled. "Look at this one-legged freak."
Matsu blinked and turned. "Uh... sorry?"
Oldot smirked. "Tell me, boy. Did you lose your leg in some tragic farming accident, or were you born half-useless?"
Babel chuckled slowly. "He's got a wooden one. Like a chair."
That was when Caesar turned his head and blinked once.
Then, in one swift, silent motion—
THWACK!
His back leg lashed out and kicked Oldot clean into the town fountain.
SPLOOSH!
Oldot resurfaced a moment later, soaked, sputtering, and tangled in duck-shaped lilies.
Babel straightened. "You okay?"
Before he could take another step, Caesar lunged forward.
CHOMP.
The donkey bit down on Oldot's mustache and yanked with all the grace of a professional lawnmower.
"MY 'STACHE! YOU FILTHY RAT-HORSE!"
Matsu gaped. "Caesar?!"
"GET IT OFF! GET IT OFFFF!" Oldot screamed.
Babel charged forward, but Caesar simply trotted away, dragging a strip of ruined mustache like a trophy.
Matsu leapt back onto the cart. "Gotta go!"
Then he noticed something resting at the side of the wagon.
A wooden shovel.
He didn't remember bringing it.
"Oh well."
He slung it over his shoulder and let it rest across his back.
As the cart rolled away, he glanced behind him once. Oldot was still in the fountain shrieking about honor, lawsuits, and facial sabotage while Babel tried hauling him out by the back of his armor.
The moment they rounded the corner, Matsu jumped off again, eyes shining.
The heart of Flower Town's market was a dizzying maze of stalls and shouting voices. Mismatched awnings flapped overhead, casting shifting patches of color across the crowded street. People elbowed by carrying herbs, bolts of cloth, and skewers of meats Matsu couldn't identify.
"Buy two chicken skewers, get a daisy flower free!"
"Cabbage! You need health!"
"Five peaches for three gold! Or three peaches for five! You choose!"
Matsu's stomach growled.
He spun toward the nearest food stall—a glorious display of grilled skewers, sticky buns, and sizzling oil. His mouth flooded instantly.
The vendor, a man with one eye and ten rings on each finger, leaned over the counter.
"You got coin, lad?"
Matsu puffed out his chest. "Sure do."
He slapped a handful of coins down with the confidence of a master negotiator.
"Give me... one of everything!"
Ten minutes later, he stood in the square with a skewer in each hand, three buns tucked under one arm, and a daisy stuck behind one ear.
A child bumped into him, stole a dumpling, and vanished into the crowd.
"HEY!" Matsu shouted after them—then immediately got distracted by another merchant yelling nearby.
"Miracle wheat! Pumping wheat! Stronger livestock guaranteed!"
"Pumping Wheat?" Matsu muttered. His eyes widened. "That's it! Grandpa said—"
He shoved into the crowd toward the stall, instantly forgetting Caesar, who had quietly backed the cart into the shade like an old man avoiding the sun.
Behind him, two very wet and very angry knights limped around the corner.
Oldot's mangled mustache dripped pitifully.
"There was no way I was letting that slide," he growled. "Not after what that demon horse did to me."
Babel squinted into a nearby alley.
"Hey... isn't that the horse right there?"
They peered around the wall.
Caesar stood peacefully in the shade, licking something off his own leg and blinking at a passing butterfly.
Oldot slowly raised a finger.
"See that? Tail length. Muscle shape. Aura."
Babel scratched his head. "He looks pretty normal to me."
Oldot's eyes narrowed.
"That," he whispered, "is a Rock Beast. Hidden in plain sight. The great Oldot would never miss something like this."
Neither noticed the shadowed figure crouched on the rooftop above them.
A bandit smirked, lowering himself flat against the tiles as he raised a thin brass whistle to his lips.
One sharp note pierced the air.
Three more men dropped from the surrounding rooftops.
They hit the knights hard and fast—clubs to the shoulders, elbows to the jaw, a kick to the ribs. Oldot yelped. Babel collapsed like a sack of wet grain.
Caesar blinked.
"Found it," one bandit grinned, slipping a rope around the donkey's neck.
Caesar didn't resist.
He simply stared into the distance as they dragged him away, leaving the two knights groaning in the alley behind them.