Walking through the crowded streets of the underground market, many familiar sights revealed themselves before Nox.
People bartering with merchants, trying to get their money's worth; a crowd of children watching some kind of stage performance; a few red-robed individuals, scattered and wandering through the crowd, each holding a lantern that exuded a certain grey-purplish mist rather than light, preaching about their lord and savior, all kinds of smells of piss and shit, as well as food fusing together drowning out the mist's own already indestinct scent, if it even had one.
Located at the center of the lively scene.
Trisha and Nox were at the main square, walking towards the center of the market.
Looking at the watch he always had to wear when leaving the government facility, the timer was steadily counting down, as it always did.
"2:24:34"
"2:24:33"
"2:24:32"
Nox glanced at Trisha, who stood beside him with hands tucked into her jacket, scanning the streets with an unreadable expression on her face. Leaning closer, speaking in a low, direct tone.
"Wanna meet here when you're done with whatever you're to do? Giving us around 1 hour to head back?"
Emotion flickered across Trisha's face before she nodded twice, lips pressed together, signaling agreement.
"Then till then have fun trying to anger the poor Reinhard even more."
With a teasing lilt in her parting words, Trisha turned on her heel and slipped fluidly into the crowd, quickly vanishing from sight.
Now alone, Nox shrugged off his puffy jacket, draping it over his arm, a bit relieved to have finally gotten rid of this jacket. He had never really liked such puffy clothes, feeling them constrict his movements, and wearing them hours on end had simply been torture.
Navigating the sweltering underground market, weaving past stalls and bustling bodies of people.
Through the cluttered, disorganized tangle of the market, Nox finally stopped at a small dispenser, glancing over his shoulder before stepping forward.
Covertly pulling out the vile like Curir, Nox couldn't help but grumble about its transparency, making it easy for all to see how much wealth he was carrying. This was not a small amount, for some, even enough to kill.
He would definitely buy a better model someday, or at least something that wouldn't lead others to covet his wealth.
Carefully opening the Curir, trying his best not to grab the attention of any fugs lurking around these atms in the hopes of finding an appropriate target.
He let a single drop fall into a cylinder-shaped dispenser, and ten banknotes quickly pressed out of a slitt on the machine. Quickly taking them, unceremoniously stuffing them into his pocket, and leaving the area in the fastest way.
Passing through the moving crowd, Nox stuck both hands in his pockets, one curling protectively around the Curir, the other pressing against his new stack of bills. He ducked and shifted to avoid brushing against passersby.
"Bang"
Nox looked down, brows knitted in a frown. A child sprawled at his feet, having collided hard with his leg just moments earlier.
Is he a thief? There was a large number of children born in Abyss city every year; in all honesty, Nox couldn't explain it to himself. With the amount of deaths, with suicides being the top contender, followed by violence between citizens, and lastly, beasts breaking in from the outside, he simply could not understand how the city's population continued to grow.
"Ahhh —Sorry, sir, I was in a hurry to get to my sick mother."
The child's voice cracked as he clutched his bruised leg. Nox's stance softened; his grip on suspicion loosened for an instant.
Nox extended a hand to help the boy up, planning to get on his way as quickly as possible, still keeping an eye out for any fugs.
"Huh"
Feeling movement in his right pocket, his gaze went down, growing darker. A hand was in his pocket, not his, but a small one that extended from behind him.
"Quick run!"
As soon as Nox caught on, the young boy yanked down on Nox's helping hand and lashed out with a sharp kick at his leg, throwing him off balance.
Pain flashed across Nox's chin as the boy's kick landed. He snapped his attention to the pocket, where the Curir was already gripped by an older kid, who spun away in a run. The boy at his feet leaped up and darted in the opposite direction, dropping his act.
These little shits!
Quickly regaining his balance, Nox turned to the boy carrying the Curir, running after him, determined not to lose all of his funds in one go.
Pressing and turning through the crowd, the boy grew closer by the second.
A moment before reaching him, he collided with another boy of similar age, their hands entwining, both of them hiding who had the Curir, and running in different directions.
Fuck!
Nox hesitated briefly, then bolted after the original thief. In a frantic rush, he nearly barreled into three more children, but found himself chasing someone else entirely, at some point.
Entering a less crowded alley without looking ahead, the boy collided with a tall man in black-and-red robes, holding something that could be described as a lantern emitting the purple smoke seen throughout the market, a clear sign of the hearth god's faith, his or her face hidden behind a veil.
With Nox in tight pursuit, the boy stood between the priest and Nox, blocked on both sides.
"Stop him!"
The boy scrambled for the gap, but the priest seized him by the collar, with one precise movement, hoisting him off the ground, clearly hiding a lot of strength under those robes.
"Huff huff."
Nox exhaled heavily and strode toward the priest, intent and determined.
"Sorry for the inconvenience, the boy took something that doesn't belong to him."
Looking at the boy with a thrown, the priest, wearing a red veil that revealed only his green, eyes, a hint of purple mixed within, was still holding the desperate boy, his struggles in vain.
"Lies, he wants to steal my hard-earned money!"
Looking back, the Priest asked in a deep voice.
"Do you have any evidence that the boy stole?"
Nox thought for a moment before a confident smile arose.
"Sure thing"
Lifting a hand, he pulled back a finger. The Curir the boy was tightly grasping was struggling mystically to fly out of his grasp, trying to return to its owner.
Seeing this unusual scene in the Priest's eyes, a light of understanding lit up as he forcefully took the Curir from the boy's hands and looked at it intently, analyzing every crevice of it.
There surrounding it were fine, almost unnoticeable to the eye, threads wrapped around the vile where the Notium was swirling around in it, clearly agitated by the comotion.
With a flick, the priest tossed the Curir upward; the threads snapped taut and reeled it cleanly into Nox's open palm, in a breath's time.
Looking at Nox for a moment, he spoke in a reverent, respectful tone.
"I am terribly sorry for having doubted a holder of the divine. I will apprehend this vicious fiend on your behalf."
Bowing slightly, Nox was baffled by the change of attitude. Oh, right, the church of the hearth believes Authority Wealders are Individuals chosen by the divine.
Well, the most widely accepted theory of the origins of concept fragments is that they are the body parts of higher beings, which one could describe as gods, so it was understandable, at least to a certain extent, why priests would be reverent towards such individuals.
If he remembered right, many priests were Authority Wealders, maybe even this one.
Thinking about it, the boy might have messed up badly by offending a religious fanatic by stealing from one of their objects of worship.
Placing the Curir safely into his pocket, Nox sighed internally, trying to mitigate the punishment for the boy at least to a certain extent, as losing both hands or something worse was nothing Nox wished for someone in whose shoes he could have been just as easily.
"Thank you for the help, and please go easy on the boy; he didn't know better."
Hearing this, the Priest bowed respectfully and nodded in understanding.
"I will give him a chance then."
Closing his eyes, not wanting to give the words, with multiple meanings another thought, Nox turned around, averting his gaze.
Walking off not looking back, the endeavor seemingly over, Nox sighed, relieved that he had been paranoid enough to wrap his threads around the Curir in advance, making the attempt of losing me in the chase quite futile. They almost got his gambling money!
As he walked, he was planning to finally buy some of the things he had originally come here for.
Passing by, Nox's gaze rested on a group of youths gathered near a small stand, the youths reminding him of the incident. He paused, interest piqued. Behind the stall, a white-bearded man manipulated two wooden human figures, each connected to a crossbar by near-invisible white threads. The puppets jerked and twirled in precise movements, performing acrobatics as a second person began narrating a story aloud to the crowd.
"Ha ha, well, what is the point of this scruff we're having?"
Said the one doll to the other in a squicky voice. Mimicking the pose of a confused person holding his arms up.
"What's the point of having such a scrufel youuu sayyy, the point is that we can do it as we are free to do what we desire! How dare you try taking my freedommmmm!
Screaming in a patriotic, kind of arrogant tone, the puppet screamed as the crowd of children started chuckling.
"Freedom?"
Scratching its head, the puppet pointed towards one of the threads holding it, asking in its squcky voice.
"Can you truly call that freedom?"
The other looked up, it looked down again, averting its gaze from the reality it was born into, taking out a wooden sword that looked like a toothpick because of its size.
"Huh," some children reacted, trying to warn the squicky puppet.
"Blasphemy!!! stab"
While observing the puppet act, Nox tilted his head, a silent musing arising within, "Should I buy a puppet?"