“It was a luck-based game. Can’t do anything about that,” Loewe mused. “Maybe it’s the heavens telling us it’s not the right time yet.”

“I had fun, at least!” Lily exclaimed. There seemed to be some sort of strange sense of camaraderie among the four.

“In any case, I’m glad everything turned out all right,” Zophia said. It had been the first-ever night festival held in the slums, and the demi-human women who had organized the event toasted each other in relief. “This year, we kept it mostly to our own people, but I wanna make it bigger next year.”

“I think everyone’s gonna be talking about this,” Lynga remarked. “More people will want to come next year.”

“The festival might become a staple of the slums eventually,” Loewe said.

“Maybe people from the city will start coming too,” Lily mused. Her remark was casual, but the atmosphere suddenly turned tense. “Oh, I’m sorry...”

Class was everything in this country, and there was a vast divide between common citizens and the poor. Though some weren’t as discriminatory, like Umin and Becker from the Royal Institute of Healing, they were generally a minority.

Zophia smiled gently and patted Lily’s head. “It’s okay, Lily. Maybe someday, right?”

“I can’t even imagine it,” Lynga said in an emotional tone.

“Maybe it’ll be the little ones like Lily who bring about change,” Loewe pondered wistfully.

Their amiable conversation was interrupted when Zonde came running up, an anxious look on his features. “Oh good, there you are, sis. Mind coming with me for a sec?”

Zophia tilted her head in confusion and stood up. “What’s up?”

“Uh, some weird guys have shown up.”

“Weird guys?”

“Yeah, they’ve crashed the festival and are trying to start trouble.”

Zophia’s eyes narrowed, and Lynga and Loewe rose to their feet as well.

“Zenos...” Lily said.

“Yeah, we’re going too,” the healer replied, and the pair of them followed after the demi-humans.

As the group hurried along the main street, they noticed a commotion at the entrance to the festival. A group of lizardmen, werewolves, and orcs were gathered, and past them was a sizable group of men. At the forefront was a muscular, tall figure with sharp fangs and a faintly green skin tone, suggesting a mixed demi-human heritage.

“Hey now,” he said, looking down at the group. “You guys can’t just do whatever you want on public roads, you know. It’s a hassle.”

Zophia stepped forward and shot him a quiet glare. “And who are you, again?”

“Doesn’t matter who I am. Are you in charge here?”

“Sort of. Have we caused you any trouble?”

“A ton of it. I can’t sleep with all this noise, y’know.”

“Sorry about that. We’re wrapping up soon, so please bear with us, yeah?”

“And your stalls are blocking the road.”

“If you want to pass, go right ahead. No one’s stopping you.”

“Hmm...” The man narrowed his eyes, then suddenly struck a nearby stall with the club in his hand. A loud crack echoed as half of the stall shattered into pieces, sending the kobold shopkeeper scurrying away with a panicked yelp.

“As you can see, I’m a big guy, yeah? I’ll have to smash all of these stalls to make way.”

“I see,” Zophia responded in a slightly lower tone, without reacting visibly. She crossed her arms. “So you’re looking for a fight.”

“Zenos,” Lily said, tugging at the healer’s sleeve worriedly. “Who are these people?”

“I don’t know, but I think...”

This festival had been organized by the three major factions of the slums: the lizardmen, the werewolves, and the orcs. Normally, an event planned by the three ruling races wasn’t something to be trifled with easily.

“Well, if there’s one group capable of doing this stuff—”

Zophia spoke up before Zenos could finish his sentence. “You’re with the Black Guild, aren’t you?”

***

A tense air had begun to seep into the lively atmosphere of the festival.

“The Black Guild,” Lily murmured apprehensively as she observed the men who had suddenly intruded upon the night festival in the slums. “Is that...”

“Yeah, the illegal guild that does anything for money,” Zenos confirmed, prompting a nervous gulp from Lily.

At the very bottom of the hierarchy in the Kingdom of Herzeth were the slums, known as the forsaken city. Deep within this area was somewhere even darker, known as the depths. There lurked the members of the Black Guild, the very same that the mysterious Conductor behind the golem incident had been a part of.

Zophia, who stood at the forefront, glared at the men. “You people should stick to skulking underground. Why come all the way here to pick a fight? What’s your angle?”

The big, greenish man smirked. “Because you guys are ruining things for us, holding such a big, friendly event like this.”

“Oh? Feeling left out?”

“Say what?” the man replied, a wrinkle forming between his brows.

“You’re like big babies,” Lynga said, stepping forward to stand next to Zophia.

“If you can stop throwing a tantrum, we wouldn’t mind letting you join in,” Loewe added, stepping forward as well.

“I’m saying this is bad for our business!” the man spat bitterly, striking once more at the already half-collapsed stall. The support pillar creaked, then snapped in half. As the stall crumbled, raising a cloud of dust, the green man cracked his knuckles. “Us Black Guilders thrive on chaos, see. Murder, kidnapping, exacting revenge, drug dealing... The more trouble the place’s in, the more dangerous the jobs we get. We can’t have the slums turn into some sort of bumbling utopia for idiots.”

“So that’s what this is about,” Zophia said with a small nod, her arms still crossed. “It’s not like we don’t get it. I used to think living on the edge suited me too, you know. But...” She glanced at the lamps lining the street, their warm light illuminating the festival. “Maybe a bumbling utopia isn’t so bad either.”

The man from the Black Guild scoffed disdainfully. “What nonsense.”

Staring at him, Zophia uncrossed her arms. “So, you should make like a utopian idiot and leave without a fuss. Yeah?”