High above the town, nestled between jagged cliffs and draped in mist like a dying thing's breath, sat a twisted collection of lumber and stone that might've once been a watchtower — or a temple. Whatever it used to be, it now served a far darker purpose.
Inside, iron cages lined the walls like jagged teeth, and behind their bars, things moved.
Growled.
Clicked.
The Rock Beasts.
They were unlike anything else in the world — living creatures whose bodies shimmered like minerals, their hides veined with glowing patterns, eyes lit with unnatural energy. One beast resembled a dog made of volcanic glass, its breath letting off small wisps of smoke. Another was curled like a snake around a branch, 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 hadn't been told it was dead yet. Piercings covered every inch of his pale, stretched skin — hooks through his cheeks, tiny blades in his ears, shimmering studs like stars embedded along his fingers and nose and even his eyelids. His light brown hair stuck out like frayed wires
A bounty of3,000 gold hung over his head.
Terry was humming something tuneless, walking past cages with a lantern, tapping the bars. "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.
A grunt came from across the room, where a group of rugged bandits sat hunched around a map, eating dried meat and sharpening daggers.
"Boss," said one of them, standing. "Report from the southeast outpost. A Rock Beast's been spotted. Stable energy reading. Town called… Flower Town."
Terry tilted his head, teeth showing through cracked lips. "Flower Town…" he repeated, almost lovingly. "Close."
"Yeah. Close enough to hit by tonight."
Terry's pupils dilated.
"Well," he said, flicking a small hook from under his tongue and placing it through his eyebrow with one smooth motion, "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, bumping into one another without apology.
And through it all, a wooden cart wobbled forward, pulled by a bony, unimpressed donkey and steered by a wide-eyed boy clinging to the reins like a lifeline.
Matsu's mouth hung open.
Buildings stacked atop buildings. Flags strung between windows. Someone tossed a fish from a second-floor balcony, and someone else caught it in their mouth. Music played from three directions at once, and the air smelled like spice, sweat, and opportunity.
"Whoa…" Matsu whispered, stepping down from the cart. "Never seen so many people before."
He patted Caesar's side. The donkey blinked — then promptly stepped sideways into a stack of fruit baskets, knocking over a stand.
"Hey! Watch it!" a vendor barked.
"Sorry! Sorry!" Matsu fumbled to bow and push Caesar back into line.
Behind him, two knights in regulation armor — dented, but still polished — watched with bored, sneering expressions.
Oldot stood with his chest puffed up, a crooked saber hanging off his hip and a meticulously waxed handlebar mustache twitching with judgment. Babel, taller and more brutish, leaned on a doorway
Oldot squinted at the scene unfolding before them, then let out a theatrical sigh.
Oldot stepped forward, "Well, well," he drawled. "Look at this one- legged freak"
Matsu blinked and turned. "Uh… sorry?"
Oldot smirked. "Tell me, boy. You lose your leg in a tragic farming incident, or were you born half-useless?"
Babel chuckled, slow and stupid. "He's got a wooden one. Like a chair."
That's when Caesar turned his head, and blinked once
Then, in one swift, silent move—
He whipped his back leg around and kicked Oldot straight into the town's decorative fountain.
SPLOOSH!
Oldot surfaced a second later, soaked, sputtering, and tangled in duck-shaped lilies.
Babel took a step forward, stunned. "You okay?"
Before he could react, Caesar reared his head—
CHOMP.
The donkey bit down on Oldot's mustache and yanked with all the grace of a seasoned lawnmower.
"MY 'STACHE! YOU FILTHY RAT-HORSE!"
Matsu gaped. "Caesar—?!"
Oldot screamed. "GET IT OFF—GET IT—!"
Babel lunged. Caesar trotted away calmly, dragging part of Oldot's ruined mustache like a badge of honor.
Matsu quickly jumped back onto the cart. "Gotta go"
But then he noticed something at the edge of his cart—The Wooden shovel. He didn't remember bringing it with him. Oh well, he thought, slinging it over his shoulder, letting it rest on his back.
As the cart rolled away, Matsu glanced back once. Oldot was still in the fountain, shrieking about lawsuits and honor. Babel tried fishing him out by the back of his armor.
***
The moment they rounded the corner and left the fountain fiasco behind, Matsu hopped off the cart again, eyes wide with wonder.
The heart of Flower Town's Lower Market was a dizzying labyrinth of stalls and shouting. Makeshift awnings flapped overhead in mismatched colors, casting bright, shifting shadows across the crowded street. People elbowed past each other with bags of herbs, rolls of cloth, and skewers of unidentifiable meats. All food Matsu has never heard of.
"Buy two chicken skewers, get a daisy flower for free!"
"Cabbage! You need to be healthy!"
"Five peaches for three gold! Or three peaches for five! You choose!"
Matsu's stomach grumbled.
He spun to the nearest food stall — a greasy, glorious display of grilled skewers, sticky buns, his mouth was watering
The vendor, a man with one eye and ten rings on each finger, leaned over the counter. "You got coin, lad?"
Matsu puffed up. "Sure do."
He slapped a few coins onto the table with the confidence of a seasoned negotiator.
"Give me… one of each!"
Ten minutes later, Matsu stood in the middle of the square with a skewer in each hand, three buns tucked into his armpit, and a daisy stuck behind his ear. A small child bumped into him and ran off with one of his dumplings.
"HEY!" Matsu called after them, then immediately got distracted by a lady shouting about "miracle wheat."
"Pumping Wheat?" he muttered. His eyes lit up. "That's it! Grandpa said—"
He darted toward the stand, completely forgetting Caesar, who had been slowly backing the cart into the shade like a retiree escaping the sun.
Matsu elbowed his way through a tight clump of shouting merchants.
Behind him, unseen in the chaos, two very wet and very angry knights had limped after the cart.
Oldot gritted his teeth, mustache mangled and dripping. "There was no way I'd let that slide," he growled. "Not after what that demon horse did to me."
Babel squinted. "Hey… isn't that the horse right there?"
They peered around the corner into a quiet alley. Caesar, blissfully unaware, stood in the shade licking something off his own leg and blinking slowly at a passing butterfly.
Oldot raised a finger. "See that? Tail length. The muscle shape. That's not just some horse, Babel."
Babel scratched his head. "He looks pretty normal to me…"
"That's a Rock Beast," Oldot hissed. " Hidden in plain sight. The great Oldot would never miss something like this."
Neither of them noticed the shadowed figure listening from the rooftop above.
A bandit smirked, ducking low and tapping a thin brass whistle to his lips. One shrill note later, and three more men dropped down from the surrounding roofs.
They hit the knights hard and fast — elbows, clubs, a kick to the ribs. Oldot let out a yelp. Babel dropped like a sack of bricks.
Caesar blinked.
"Found it," one of the bandits grinned, looping a rope around Caesar's neck.
The donkey didn't resist.
He simply stared into space as they dragged him away, leaving the two knights groaning in the alley