Akira's eyes lingered on the faces around him. The joy there was genuine and yet he understood all too well the shadows that lay beneath it.
Evilus still lurked in the darkness of Orario, striking without warning, spreading chaos and fear in their wake.
Work was becoming scarcer by the day. Many residents struggled to find even meager employment, and supporting a family was becoming a battle most could not win.
As for adventuring, the so-called "glamorous" profession, death was always close enough to brush your shoulder.
Hunger and poverty prowled like wolves in the alleys. For some, survival was a daily gamble. But here, the scene was different. It was like stepping from a storm into sunlight.
The news had spread quickly, free food would be handed out here today. And so, since early morning, people had come from every corner of Orario, forming a line that snaked down the street like a coiling dragon.
Most bore the weariness of hardship on their faces, the dust of the streets clinging to their skin, the exhaustion of life etched into their features. Yet now, there was something else in their eyes.
Hope.
Steam rose from great cauldrons as bowls of soup were passed into waiting hands. And when those hands closed around the warmth, something remarkable happened.
Faces softened. Smiles, small, fragile, but real, returned.
Children were laughing, clutching slices of fresh fruit as though they were treasures. For many of them, such treats were rare enough to be dreams. Today, they could eat their fill. Their voices rang like silver bells above the chatter of the crowd, carrying a warmth that not even the deepest poverty could silence.
For a little while, at least, hunger and hardship could be forgotten.
Originally, the city had been preparing for a Festival, a celebration of fertility and prosperity. But Evilus attacks had forced its cancellation.
Now, this humble charity feast had taken its place, not with grand parades or divine rituals, but with steaming bowls of soup, warm bread, and fruit passed from hand to hand and perhaps, that was enough.
"Here's your bread, soup, and a piece of fruit. Please take care of it."
Gatar kept his eyes down, avoiding the gaze of Ryuu, standing guard, and took the meal from Iska behind the pot.
His clothes were shabby, worn nearly to threads, yet oddly, scraps of armor still clung to his shoulders and abdomen.
"Thank you."
Finding a shadowed corner, he crouched low, the rumbling of his stomach loud in his own ears. His cheeks were sunken, his lips dry.
The first spoonful burned his tongue, but he didn't care. In seconds, the soup was gone, the bread devoured, crumbs clinging to his mouth. He licked them away greedily. It wasn't enough, not nearly enough. Even with a full portion, the hollow ache in his gut remained.
His gaze drifted and landed on a mother sitting nearby, guiding her young son's hands as he ate. Her own bread lay untouched at her side.
Something in Gatar's fingers twitched. A hunger of a different kind began to stir in his chest.
And then, a voice flashed in his memory.
Cool, calm, and unmistakable.
"I can't give you money but I can give you my fried potato balls."
'Forget it, this is too ugly.' Gatar thought, and was about to avert his gaze.
He didn't want to keep looking, poverty had its limits, but desperation… desperation was something he knew all too well.
But some people still lost control. A gaunt man with sunken cheeks and fierce, restless eyes stood behind the mother in the queue. His gaze never left the bread at her side. His Adam's apple bobbed up and down, his parched lips opened and closed slightly, as though he was tasting air or swallowing saliva.
Just as the man began to inch forward, Gatar's body moved before his mind did. It was as if some invisible force had pushed him to his feet.
Ignoring the rumble of his still-empty stomach, he strode over, seized the man's arm, and asked in a low voice, "What do you think you're doing?!"
The man flinched, startled by the sudden obstruction. A flash of anger lit his eyes, and he twisted hard against Gatar's grip.
"Let go! I'm starving to death!" He hissed, his voice cracked and raw.
For a moment, he even raised his fist, ready to strike.
The sharp movement drew attention. Conversations paused, and the joyful chatter of those receiving food faded. Dozens of eyes turned their way, their gazes filled with disgust and disappointment.
Under the weight of that silent judgment, the man's defiance faltered. His clenched fist trembled, then slowly loosened. His shoulders slumped. He kept his head down as though trying to shrink from the world.
Only then did Gatar exhale and release his grip.
The man cast him a fleeting glance, there was no hatred in it now, only shame.
"Thanks." He murmured hoarsely before slipping back into the shadow of the alley.
Gatar returned to his own corner, lowering himself onto the cold ground. He looked at the empty wooden bowl in front of him, at the pitiful crumbs clinging to his fingers. His stomach still ached with hunger, but strangely, there was a warmth in his chest. It wasn't food. It was something else.
That was when an energetic voice broke through his thoughts.
"You're that uncle who stole Valis last time, right? You did great just now."
He blinked. "Scarlet Harnel?"
A girl with a bright ponytail of fiery red hair squatted in front of him, grinning like the morning sun.
"Clang clang! That's me." She declared, puffing out her chest. "The honest, upright, and beautiful Alise Lovell."
"I didn't think you'd actually go straight after that last incident. Guess I was wrong."
She waved her hand dismissively before pulling something from behind her back. "Anyway, as a reward for what you just did, look! Bread! A whole one! Here, take it."
She presented it proudly, like it was treasure.
In the dim light of the alley, the bread seemed to glow. Gatar squinted, and his eyes prickled with unexpected heat.
"Stop kidding me, idiot." He blurted automatically, the exact same words he'd thrown at her last time.
But this time, he didn't snatch the bread. Instead, he got up quickly, almost stumbling, and turned away, trying to flee before his expression betrayed him.
"Ah, he ran again. Total tsundere." Alise muttered, pouting slightly before breaking into another smile. "But I bet he's really changed."
She bounced back onto the street, holding up the bread. "Alright. Let's go turn the next person into a pig."
From the eaves of a nearby roof, Akira watched silently, the faint light of a floating magic sphere fading from his palm.
"Heh… you're really something, Alise." He murmured to himself.
His gaze shifted to the orderly line of people. The atmosphere was peaceful, fragile, but peaceful.
'Let's hope no Evilus scum picks today to make trouble. Because unlike the police, I won't just take away your weapons. If you lose your ability to fight… I'll make sure you can't crawl back up.'
The sky above remained clear, deceptively calm.
The sun was climbing, its golden light stretching over the cobblestones. Shadows lengthened, weaving between the feet of countless citizens making their way to the charity event.
Among them, a lone woman walked, her pace unhurried, her silhouette sharp against the light. She tilted her head up, letting the warm rays touch her face.
"Since the sky's celebrating, something good must be happening." She hummed softly.
She didn't notice a man walking by until their shoulders bumped.
"Oh, sorry, I didn't see you." The man apologized quickly, adjusting the bundle in his hands. In such a crowd, these collisions were inevitable.
The woman smiled faintly and lifted her hand in a dismissive wave. "Oh, don't worry about it."
Her other hand, however, slipped beneath her long coat.
Puff.
The man froze, his eyes going wide. A wet, hoarse gasp escaped his throat. He clutched at his neck, but the blood was already gushing out, hot and bright. His knees buckled before he hit the ground, lifeless.
The woman said sweetly, resting the red-stained blade on her shoulder. "As compensation, I'll take your life."
For an instant, the entire street went silent.
Then—
"KYAAAAAAAAA!!"
The scream shattered the stillness, sending shockwaves of panic through the crowd.