Nyxaria was staring at Ari like she might strangle the little glowing figure out of sheer irritation. Her icy gaze could have frozen the sun itself, and Ari—still floating in the air with a guilty grin—looked very much like she wanted to disappear.
Just then, a knock on the door interrupted the tension.
Nyxaria's gaze flicked toward the door. Ari let out an audible sigh, as if she had just dodged an execution.
The wooden door creaked open.
It was the same girl who had led Nyxaria to the house earlier. She looked no older than sixteen, with soft, uneven bangs falling into her eyes and a thin, frail frame barely hidden beneath a rough tunic stitched from patchy hides.
In her arms, she carried a small wooden tray. A couple of rugged-looking fruits with dark rinds sat beside a cracked bowl filled with half-roasted chunks of meat. The scent was faintly metallic, raw, and without a single grain of seasoning.
The girl stepped inside quietly, avoiding Nyxaria's gaze. Her feet made almost no sound against the stone floor.
She placed the tray carefully on the wooden table, her fingers trembling. Her eyes darted briefly toward Nyxaria before gazing away.
Then, without a word, she turned to leave.
Nyxaria's voice, low and smooth, halted her steps. "Wait."
The girl froze.
Nyxaria studied her for a moment. There was something fragile about her, like a moth fluttering too close to a flame.
"What's your name?" Nyxaria asked.
The girl turned around slowly and opened her mouth—only to raise her hand and place it over her throat. Then she shook her head.
Mute.
Nyxaria's eyes narrowed slightly. There was something hollow in the girl's movements. Polite, practiced. As if she had done this countless times.
Ari floated up beside her. "Her name's Sira," she said quietly. "She can't speak. Born mute. Lives alone."
Nyxaria glanced at Sira, who stood quietly with her head lowered, then shifted her gaze to Ari and asked, "Can't she see you?"
Ari floated lazily beside her, arms crossed. "Don't worry," she said, "No one can see or hear me except you."
Nyxaria's expression didn't change. She waved her hand towards Sira, signaling her to leave. "You can go."
Nyxaria's eyes followed Sira as the girl stepped back, bowed her head respectfully, and silently exited the room.
The door shut with a soft click.
Nyxaria turned to the tray and inspected the food. The fruit was fresh enough—some red, some yellow with thick peels. The meat, however, was another matter. Burnt on one side, raw on the other. No spices, no oil. Just flesh, half-cooked over an open fire. The outside was barely charred, the inside still raw and oozing.
Was this the standard here? Or had they simply offered her what little they had?
Still, her body needed fuel. With mechanical grace, she peeled a fruit and bit into it, letting the sweetness coat her tongue.
Outside the window, the sun was descending, casting a golden hue over the stone buildings and quiet streets.
Ari perched cross-legged in the air like a floating doll. "It's not gourmet, but it's safe to eat. Mostly."
Nyxaria didn't reply. She kept eating in silence, gaze flicking to the window and then the room's modest interior. Her assassin instincts remained alert, always mapping, always evaluating.
"You want to know about this city, don't you?" Ari finally said.
Nyxaria raised an eyebrow. "You're supposed to be my system. Shouldn't you offer the information before I have to ask?"
Ari chuckled nervously. "Right, right! Let me give you the grand tour—verbally."
With a snap of her fingers, a glowing, semi-transparent map unfolded in midair.
The map shimmered, showing a jagged city structure carved into the dense forest. The city was clearly split into two halves, divided by a wide stone road running like a scar through the middle.
The map was divided cleanly down the center. West side shimmered faintly in blue light, while east side pulsed in dim red.
She cleared her throat and floated a little higher, as though preparing to recite a story.
"This place is called Nightmare City. It's not officially a city, but more of an abandoned sector. It is in the forgotten corner of the beastmen world where nobody wants to enter. It is divided into two sides. You're currently on the western side. That's where the disabled, weak, or otherwise useless beastmen live. The ones who can't transform properly, or have injuries, or were born different."
"What about Lioren," Nyxaria asked suddenly. "The bird who brought me here."
Ari perked up. "Yep. He lives here too. Technically, he's from a prestigious hawk bloodline—but he can't transform into his humanoid form. That's why he was cast out. He's still young in human years, but he's already an adult in beast terms. That's considered a deformity in most beast tribes. They cast him out years ago."
Nyxaria's jaw clenched.
"And the girl from earlier?"
Ari nodded. "Mute since birth. She was abandoned by her family. Most here were. That old woman who spoke to you has a leg injury that never healed properly. She got hurt because of a feral. Now she limps. Looked down on by her tribe so, they chased her out."
Nyxaria stared at the floor, then slowly turned toward the door.
"So this place is a graveyard of the unwanted."
"Harsh, but accurate," Ari murmured.
"And the east side?"
A flicker of unease crossed the system's glittering face.
"The east side is another kind of discarded," she said slowly. "It's where the ferals, half-beasts, and the abandoned males live. Ones who were cast out by their partners or unwanted. They're stronger, but emotionally unstable. Aggressive. Violent. Many of them can't control their instincts. Fights break out all the time. Sometimes… worse. Even kidnappings..."
Nyxaria's gaze darkened. "Kidnappings."
Ari looked away.
"Sometimes, yes. Especially if a female wanders too close. Many of them haven't seen a woman in years. Their minds twist from isolation, rejection. They become aggressive in more ways than one."
A long silence stretched between them.
Finally, Nyxaria stood.
Her movements were fluid, graceful, calculated. The kind born of years in the shadows.
She crossed the room and stands beside the window. Cold wind rushed in, carrying the scent of smoke, moss, and something metallic beneath it all.
Far in the distance, beyond the crumbling roofs and winding alleys, she could see shadows moving—burly, limping figures, sharp-eyed beasts.
"This city," she said quietly, "is a battlefield disguised as a refuge."
Ari hovered beside her. "It's a forgotten corner. No one comes here unless they have no choice."
Nyxaria's fingers clenched the windowsill.
She thought of the mute girl's hesitant gaze.
Of the frail old woman still smiling despite her limp.
Of the majestic bird who couldn't become anything else.
There was too much pain here.
Too much silence.
But silence could be broken.
Then her gaze turned back to Ari.
"You said I had a side mission," she said flatly.
Ari blinked. "Uh… yes!"
With a flick of her hand, a glowing golden panel materialized in the air, displaying the side mission's details again.
[> Side Mission: Aid the Ill Cub.
Description: A young beastman child in the village has fallen seriously ill with a rare forest fever. The village's healer lacks a critical herb, Moonshadow Leaf—which is necessary to prepare the cure. Locate the herb in a forested hill nearby and return with it within 48 hours.
Time Limit: 48 hours.
Reward: Veil of the Serpent's Grace.
Status: Incomplete. ]
Ari nodded nervously. "You still have time."
Nyxaria walked to the door.
"Then let's complete it."
Ari blinked. "You're… going out?"
Nyxaria turned her cold gaze on her. "I've wasted enough time. If I want to understand this place, I need to see it."
______
The west side unfolded before Nyxaria as she stepped into the cobbled pathways.
As Nyxaria stepped outside, the city unfolded before her like a fractured puzzle—cracked cobblestones, houses that seemed to lean with age, and the hushed, uncertain steps of those trying to survive. There was no laughter, no chatter—only the quiet hum of life eking out its existence amidst decay.
Everything was muted here. The houses were built of rough stone or salvaged wood. Children with beast ears and tails played in silence. Some limped. Some had only one ear. An older beastman with antlers swept dust in front of a cracked stone hut. A one-eyed snake woman was tending to a patch of herbs.
The atmosphere wasn't one of sorrow—it was survival. Quiet, grim, steady.
Ari hovered beside her, speaking in a hushed tone. "Most here were discarded by their tribes. There's no proper rules. Just the Elder trying to hold things together. East and West don't mix. Unless it's to fight."
Nyxaria nodded once. "Good to know."
A long pause settled between them, the weight of Ari's words hanging in the air.
As she took in the somber sights, Nyxaria couldn't help but feel the weight of their silent struggle—a reminder of how far she had fallen from her old world.
Nyxaria took one last glance at the fragmented city, the silent faces, the broken lives. She couldn't shake the feeling that something far more dangerous than mere survival lingered here.
Nyxaria strode off, the echoes of her footsteps fading into the quiet pathways of Nightmare City.