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VoC: B1 — 24. Hunger & Greed
🕑 Added 2025-09-15 20:58:07 +0000 UTCPoV:
1. Cassy (Our Shark Girl Cleric!)
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The guard’s scarred face twisted with disgust as he gripped Cassy’s arm, steering her through the winding passages beneath Bluerise. His fingers barely touched her skin, as if contact might contaminate him, which was always a comforting reality for a girl.
“When’s the last time you bathed, shark? I’d think the court would have at least cleaned you before handing you over to us.” He wrinkled his nose, maintaining maximum distance while still guiding her. “Though I suppose your kind wouldn’t be fussy about hygiene, being fish and all. No wonder they call you a cursed monster. Filth…”
Cassy let the words slide off her like water on scales, tail weaving behind her at an even tempo. It had been hard to find motivation to try again since the day her third adventuring party abandoned her mid-dungeon. That happened when you heal a group to the point of being unable to move and became a liability. Why bring a healer when you had potions?
It took her a week of torture to claw her way back, dying a dozen times along the way. Immortal, yes. Invulnerable, no.
The man’s revulsion was just background noise, no different from the dripping pipes or distant echoes through stone corridors. She’d learned that responding only prolonged the interaction, burned calories she didn’t have. She was a tad sad she’d been forced to leave so many perfectly edible sweets in her morning dumpster raid.
The law keeps getting more and more expedited, she dully thought, red irises wandering the underground halls of the city’s underbelly; an old dwarven town that this city was built over had been abandoned centuries ago. They didn’t even tell me who bought me this time before sentencing me to contract servitude. I’m hungry… How unfortunate.
Her gaze fixed on the tarmac road, river stains still streaking the walls from when this was an aqueduct. Ripped dress swaying with her movements, her toes pressed against the cold, cold ground. She felt the hollowness within her own soul; empty, where fire used to burn. But that was long ago, now.
I’ve wandered so far away from home… I thought this would be better, Mom. I don’t know where to go… All I seem to do is fall deeper into this hole.
She could hear Sekrina’s words echoing in her soul, the forgotten goddess’ whispering sweet lies that stabbed her since her youth: “Broken hearts find open arms in the poor, marginalized, and destitute.”
Liar… All I’ve found is exploitation and scorn… A cursed monster. Much like these men.
Her focus momentarily flicked to the man, his nose flaring at just that action.
Her training kicked in automatically, cataloguing threats and exits even though she’d never act on it. Three years of indentured servitude had taught her that survival meant invisibility, but her useless education died hard.
Third-rate guard. Scar’s old—knife fight, no doubt. He favors his left hip; an injury I could heal, though he’d never thank me. No one ever does. But it’s the only good I can do… What is my purpose, Holy Emperor? To starve, eat, heal, and suffer for eternity?
The passages reminded her of her studies on dwarven architecture—functional brutality carved with precision. The black pitch paving seemed to be layered on top in this area later, but the foundation was well preserved.
No wasted space, every support beam calculated for maximum efficiency. The kind of construction that would outlast empires, though whoever occupied this warren probably just wanted somewhere to hide their crimes.
Her stomach growled, a sound like grinding millstones that made the guard flinch and step further away.
“Holy Emperor preserve us,” he muttered, increasing his pace. “Why’d the boss pay ten copper for a cursed thing like you, and not even force you to have a bath first?”
That’s the question, isn’t it? Nobody shoulders that kind of debt on a charity case. An incurable disease, and I’m the last resort? Great… I’ve never tested how long [Soul Damage] lasts on incurable injuries. [Resurrection] kills me for a month, which is fair. The person loses a month of memories, too… Natural order, I suppose. Not that I’m natural…
They entered a wide storage hall, the air thick with the stench of fur, iron, and rot. Rows of cages pressed against the walls, each rattling with F-tier Dungeon monsters: screeching eco bats, bubbling slimes, rattling skeletons, even a few giant wolves pacing restlessly.
Cassy’s stomach twisted, growling louder, as if mocking her with the promise of meat she could never claim. Hunger clawed at her ribs, even as revulsion pooled in her gut.
She’d heard the rumors—the underworld monster-fighting rings, where beasts were forced into bloodsport for coin and spectacle. This was her first time seeing one. And judging by the guard’s smirk, she wasn’t here to watch.
So this is it. I’m the newest “employee.” Immortal, cursed, and always starving—a monster among monsters. Perfect hire. And I still have a contract. Probably the most expensive one in the capital’s history.
The corridor opened into a vast circular chamber—the pit, surrounded by an amphitheater of seating—and the smell hit her first.
Blood. Fresh and old, layered like sediment. Death soaked into the sand, deep enough that no rotating or turning could cleanse it. Fear-sweat from a thousand creatures lifted sharp into her nose from the crimson grains.
The cocktail of scents made her stomach clench with the dangerous hunger; the kind of hunger that made her tail curve unconsciously, blade-edge testing the air.
Damn you, [Mako Sharkfolk Physiology]. [Gluttony]. [Ravenous Appetite]. Give me a break… No. Control. Remember your Paladin training. Check your desires. Leash them. Tail, be still!
Cassy forced the appendage to still, but not before the guard stumbled back with a curse as it twitched within an inch of his backside.
“Holy Beard! Keep that thing still! You know the penalty for striking a master!”
It would have only been a slap. Probably. She was no Paladin—her Cleric’s strength could barely bruise him. Yet his fear said otherwise.
Her razor-edged tail, though—that was her sharkfolk curse. And that had bite.
“Mmm,” she hummed dully, lips sealed. Saliva pooled thick on her tongue, stirred by the reek of blood and sweat.
The pit stretched fifty-five yards across, walls rising fifteen, with galleries carved into the stone. Veiled boxes overlooked the carnage—discretion for nobility who still wanted blood.
Sand covered the floor unevenly, carved with deep furrows where something massive had thrashed its last. Blood hadn’t merely pooled—it had sprayed in arterial arcs, painting abstract murders on the walls.
Cassy’s fingers twitched at her front, memory tugging her back to a seaside courtyard.
A lady observes without staring. Catalogues without gawking.
She should have kept her eyes still. Instead, her tongue slid over her rows of teeth, copper tang stinging her palate. Hunger didn’t care for etiquette.
In the center lay what remained of the victor’s prize.
A wolf, but grotesquely scaled—horse-sized, grey fur matted with gore and already humming with flies. The skull had been punctured clean through, as if a lance had skewered it…but that wasn’t what killed it. Not entirely.
The body had been portioned into four perfect quarters, measured with surgical care. Not rage. Not battle. Feeding. Something had butchered it like meat for storage.
Iron shrieked ahead. Horses screamed, eyes rolling white as a covered cage groaned across the sand. Bars as thick as her arm had bent inward, as if tested by something with too many limbs. From within came the sound of bones cracking wetly, insect mandibles chittering in rhythm.
Chimera? No, the sound’s wrong. They wouldn’t allow a Level 45 Raid Boss in the city. Probably Level 10 at the most. Still powerful enough to dominate a Level 5 Giant Wolf. Something with an exoskeleton. Multiple limbs…
But it wasn’t the cage that held her focus. A cluster of people stood in the pit’s center, and at their head was the man who owned her now.
Forties, prosperous but not soft. New money. Cassy pegged him instantly.
His feet planted too wide, like a dock worker expecting the ground to sway. Clothes expensive but practical, chosen with the care of someone who’d studied wealth from outside the window. Rings just a little too heavy.
Dangerous… Wonderful. So much for what I dreamed of as a girl. The kingdom’s filthier on the inside than I am on the outside. Does the Holy Emperor approve? Or is this my penance—to suffer by healing monsters for profit? Keep them alive long enough to be torn apart again? Huh… Points for ingenuity.
Then her eyes slid past him—to the figure across from him. Small, cloaked, hood drawn low. Too composed for the chaos around them, and that stillness snagged her curiosity.
Not a dwarf—the proportions were wrong, movements too fluid. Not a halfling either by the voice—they moved with trained precision, each step placed with dance master accuracy.
A child?
The tone that emerged was young but refined, each word cut like her old elocution tutor demanded. The child-like notes made it hard to discern gender, but if she were to guess, she would guess male.
Noble trained. No—beyond that. That’s court precision.
“Shut up and wait here,” the guard said to her as they stopped a distance away, shoving her forward before retreating to what he clearly considered a safe distance.
“Disappointing,” the boy said, surveying the carnage. “I expected more from your supposed champion. I killed one two levels higher last week.”
The boss laughed, the sound bouncing off stone. “You haven’t seen her properly fed, and we have limits on what we can bring into the city, my young friend. Big coin’s rolling in tonight if you want a piece. Smart money’s on—”
“I’m not here for your boring blood sports.” The boy’s tone could have frosted glass. “If I wanted to get my blood pumping, I’d enter a C-tier Dungeon. The information I was promised?”
Arrogant. Used to being obeyed. But there’s something else… Cassy narrowed her eyes. Too attentive. Too exact. Like someone raised on tutors and knives. The kind of precision that got people killed—or kept alive.
A reincarnate? The thought chilled her. She’d never seen one, but no child spoke like this.
Survival meant paying closer attention than anyone thought she did. Knowing what your master wanted let you strike the balance—enough work to survive, enough laziness to keep your strength. Calories were precious. Even obedience had to be rationed.
“All business with you.” The boss shook his head with practiced disappointment. “And here I arranged this whole show. You have the coin?”
A small hand emerged from the cloak, reaching into a pouch. When it withdrew, Cassy’s breath caught, her stomach snarling so loud the guard behind her cleared his throat. The boss glanced her way with a gleaming grin before returning to his business.
Not iron, not steel—copper. An Imperium copper piece.
One of those could have fed me for… No. Don’t think about it. What is worth a princess’ monthly wage?
The boss whistled low. “This must be important to actually front that kind of cash. Sun elves do operate in strange ways, I hear, though.”
A sun elf? Wow… He must be a reincarnate. I suppose the former prince was a dark elf. Maybe he’s here for him?
“The information?”
“Right, right.” The boss flipped open a ledger, casual as if selling turnips. Cassy’s memory began cataloguing automatically, unwillingly.
“Your shopping list triggered a flag. Datura seeds, fifteen kilograms. Northrise Peaks is all snow—datura needs heat. But that wasn’t what made me look twice…”
He read down the column. Datura seeds, fifteen kilograms. Mugwort, dried. Charcoal and ash, fine grade. Salt, coarse. Iron nails, measured exact…
That’s not hedge magic.
Cassy’s tail twitched, betraying her nerves. She knew lists like this. Her mother had written reports with ingredients almost the same—though never in such bulk. This wasn’t charm-work. This was construction.
Blackthorn stakes. Obsidian charms. Not protection. Binding. The kind of ritual that gets you burned alive in lawful kingdoms. And just that order’s worth a copper coin? Sun elves really do treat money differently.
“Stinks of witchcraft,” the boss muttered, clearing his throat. “Not that I care—coin’s coin. But it makes me queasy. Plenty of White Witches in the kingdom. This though…” He slid a sealed packet across. “Buyer’s information. Don’t trace it back to me.”
The boy tucked the packet away without even glancing down, movements practiced, surgical. “Acceptable.”
“By the way,” the boss said, too casual, “you hear about the sun elf walking the streets?”
The figure went rigid.
Hit a nerve. Whatever this is about, he didn’t expect—
“I had not.” The voice cracked like ice breaking on stone. Slowly, the hood turned, revealing a face far younger than Cassy expected—a child, no more than nine or ten. Golden skin, striking features, and unbearably cute. A mask for something colder. “The Solar Incarnas is in the capital?”
“Last I heard, he was in the far east.” The boss grinned, showing teeth. “Must not be true—or so I’d say, if the sun elf I heard about wasn’t a girl. Fire-red hair, glowing blue eyes. Friendly, even—unlike a certain client I’ve had. The men won’t stop talking about her.” His grin widened. “Two sun elves in the same city? Slim odds, don’t you think?”
The boy spun with sudden violence, hood falling back.
Cassy’s trained composure cracked, her perfect posture snapping into place on instinct. Golden skin that held its own light, features sharp as winter. But his left eye was now clouded, milky-white like an old pearl.
Reincarnate. Has to be. That combination of youth and ancient precision. The way he moves, like he’s lived longer than his body. And that eye—is he using a Feat or spell?
“Impossible.” The word rasped, strangled, his face twisting. “She would never be allowed to leave the Crimson Palace for someone like—” His jaw locked. “No. Never.”
Cassy’s ear caught the stumble. He’d meant for someone like me.
The boss only shrugged, grinning wider. “Radiant girl sun elf, strutting like she owns the place. With our culture, she might as well. I don’t know why you’re hiding, boy. You could have anything you want. The king would be bending over backward for the Holy Emperor’s favorite race.”
Crimson Palace. That’s not a metaphor—he’s talking about an actual place. This isn’t just any sun elf he’s worried about.
The boy drew a black, leather-bound book, its reek of human flesh turning Cassy’s stomach. Words slithered from his tongue that made her skin crawl, and her tail curled tight around her leg. Reality warped—and a floating eye bled into existence, translucent, trailing black wisps. It zipped upward, slipping through stone like water, gone.
Warlock magic. Illegal in city limits without guard oversight. He’s desperate. This is escalating fast.
“Wow. Someone’s a little excited! Don’t tell me you’re leaving already?” the boss chuckled as the boy turned.
A steel piece flew. He caught it, blinking in confusion.
“Now you’re paying for my time? Or my silence? Because—”
“Stay.”
The boss’ frown curled into a grin at the thought of more coin. He licked his thumb, rubbed the piece, already hearing profit clink.
“What’s so important about this sun elf lady?” he pressed. “I heard the Archmagus’ apprentices are tailing her. Careful, now. You’re acting like the sun elf royal guard’s after you.”
“Do not speak as if you know our culture.” The boy’s voice dropped flat, cold. His left shoulder rolled back, slow, deliberate—coiled tension. “You cannot grasp what you imply. Someone must be impersonating a sun elf. I will be the only one you ever meet. Only three others besides me may leave the Isles, and to suggest the Cindralux Effulgentia has left ventures into madness you cannot fathom.”
Cindralux Effulgentia. That sounds beautiful, elegant, and terrifying, all at once.
Even the title sounded like burning. Her linguistics tutor would have dissected that for hours—‘Cindra’ for ember, ‘lux’ for light, ‘Effulgentia’ for radiance itself—fire and light and glory.
What kind of person earns a name like that?
The boss snorted. “Cindralux Effu—what? Never heard of that title. Listen, kid, I don’t know what game you’re playing—”
“If she were here…” The boy’s glowing emerald eye had gone wide, the clouded one twitching in a way that looked painful, then cleared, returning to its radiance. “Looking for me… She killed it, instantly.”
Whatever it showed him, Cassy couldn’t see, but she watched golden skin drain to parchment white.
“Radiant hair like starfire.” His voice had gone hollow. “Time, Gravity, Unity Magic. [Instant Cast]. This changes…everything.”
Time Magic? Is that real? [Instant Cast]? Did he mean [Silent Cast], like Mother has?
“Look, if you’re trying to spook me for a better deal. I’m not falling for it,” the boss started. “Just spit it out. What do you—”
“Do you have a leyline crystal?”
The boss’ expression shifted from skepticism to shock. “A ley—do you know what those cost, boy? That’s a princess’ ransom! I’ve only seen one in all my—”
Another pouch flew through the air. The boss caught it, frowned, tugged it open, and choked.
“E-Eighty copper? A silver?! How am I supposed to launder this? Where did you even—”
“I don’t care. The crystal.”
Eighty copper and a silver? Cassy’s hunger was momentarily silenced at the unreasonable amount of money he was now holding. That’s not wealth. That’s getting into noble mansion-estate buying territory. This reincarnate came here prepared for something, but not for her—whoever she is.
The boss pulled a necklace from under his tunic, a crystal that hurt to look at directly. The boy snatched it with hands that trembled—the first real sign of fear she’d seen.
“I’ll be gone by night’s end. So should you.” The boy’s voice had achieved an eerie calm as he tucked his ominous black book into his cloak. “I can’t be sure since I was only able to catch a glimpse, but if the Cindralux Effulgentia is truly here, the Holy Emperor has already cast his judgment. All evil will be purged from this city at dawn’s first light tomorrow.”
The boss laughed nervously. “Come on, you’re being dramatic. You don’t even know if it is this mythical lady, right? So how—”
“Be a fool, if you wish,” the boy growled, though a tight chuckle escaped, pride leaking through. “But when the Left Hand of the Solar Throne arrives, wars end.” He pulled his hood back over his head. “A demigoddess may walk your streets. Pray, if you still remember how. The Holy Emperor is long-suffering and forgiving—if you can pay the price for the sins written on your heart. A bitter cup for most.”
Cassy’s tail coiled tight around her leg. And for me? With my curse, with my hunger? What price could ever cover that? Maybe… this is best. Mother said my curse would eventually end. I just didn’t imagine it would be like this. Surely, a demigoddess can end [Immortality].
Silence followed his departure, thick as the blood-scent that still made her mouth water despite herself.
The boss stood staring at his fortune—eighty copper pieces and the single gleaming silver. He chuckled, then burst into genuine laughter.
“Demigoddess. Left Hand of the Solar Throne. He sees ruby-red hair and swoons like a green squire glimpsing his first queen!” He shook his head. “Kid has read too many legends. Judgment at dawn? What a story. I’ll remember that one while drowning in my wealth. Sun elves and their drama. A silver buys my silence, easy. Now…how to launder it? The game? I need a bigger draw for this kind of bet… Hmm.”
Cassy wasn’t so sure. The boy believed every word—enough to tremble, enough to run. He was a sun elf, and that alone made it hard to dismiss. But sun elves were cloaked in mystery, and mystery was easy to doubt.
Her shoulders eased, acceptance settling in. If I die, I die. If not… I’ll still be hungry.
The boss’ gaze fell on her, and his expression shifted to satisfaction.
“Well then. With that theatrical nonsense handled…” He walked closer, appraising her like her father once appraised horses. “I hear you’ve got a bottomless stomach. Cursed, they say.”
“Good afternoon, Master,” Cassy mumbled in a way that said she was dead inside and over it. “Would you like me to clean this mess with a touch of magic to brighten your day?”
Her stomach growled again, and she felt [Gluttony] stirring like a second heartbeat.
“Hmm. You’re more interesting in person than what I was told…in appearance and attitude,” he chuckled, shifting his stance to examine her tail charm.
“That is my purpose…bringing you lots of love…”
“I’m sure. I’m sure. But do you see what I’m dealing with?” he redirected. “The monster fighting business is tough. Expensive. Not that I’m hurting for funds now! Haha. In any case…”
He gestured at the quartered wolf with a hardy laugh. “These prissy nobles keep adding disposal regulations. Can’t burn the bodies—smoke violations. Can’t bury them—health codes. Can’t sell the meat—more regulations. It’s killing my bottom line.”
His smile sharpened, tossing the coins up so they clinked, the sound echoing like mock applause in the blood-soaked chamber.
“But you. You fix all that, don’t you? I’m not afraid of omens or superstitions about old, forgotten deities. You can eat them.” He pointed at the massive corpse. “Well, there’s your new job, Cassandra. Eat up! Finally found the perfect place for your gifts. And you can heal the damaged goods? You’re perfect!”
Cassy stared at the carcass—hundreds of pounds of meat, cooling, already crawling with flies. Her stomach snarled so loud it echoed, making one of the guards flinch. Her teeth slid longer despite her clenched jaw.
Rendered to a garbage collector. Mmm. I’ve had worse jobs, I suppose. It’s portioned. Human-sized cuts. Saves me mana on condensing. How thoughtful. Not…
“I live to serve your every unhealthy desire…”
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[ Next POV: Damon]
[ Theme: Cassy needs a hug! She still has a bit of a bite, but she’s drowning… Damon is about to enter this underworld. How will his experience be? ]
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