Chapter 3

"I hope I can find food for a whole month. I can hold out longer," Silver thought, looking at Sandy.

Silver looked around, feeling an itch of hunger in his stomach. He had set himself up for a long journey and knew that he needed to find a power source to survive in this dangerous world.

Entering the city itself, he saw a huge fountain from which pure and transparent water was pouring. People gathered around the fountain, throwing coins into the water and making their wishes before that. Silver paused for a moment, watching this picture, which seemed a bit contradictory in this violent city.

— Water is a treasure in the desert. I hope it's free here at least," Silver said, leaning over the water with his hand. He touched the water jet a little, feeling the coolness on his skin.

Sandy, sitting on Silver's shoulder, peered curiously into the water, as if trying to figure out what it was. Silver smiled at the elemental and gently stroked it.

Silver stared intently at the crowd of people who were wearing long tunics hiding their faces. Some of them preferred not to even cover their faces, leaving them exposed. In the midst of this crowded crowd, Silver stopped abruptly, looking around the surrounding people.

Everyone was staring at Silver for some reason, and he felt strange stares on him. He didn't look like the locals, and his pale skin stood out from those around him. His height and clothes also made him a stranger to this place. People were whispering among themselves, and Silver felt that his appearance aroused at least curiosity, if not true discontent.

Sandy, who was on Silver's shoulder, also rolled over and scanned the crowd. His small sandy eyes were anxiously running from one person to another.

Distortions.

Among the locals, Silver noticed that some of them had a black stripe on their hands, on which at least one circle was depicted.

It was a kind of mark indicating that the person had the simplest elemental. The circles on the label indicated how many elementals a person could summon.

Silver realized that the absence of such tattoos on his body was due to the fact that his contract with the elemental was of a nominal nature, not a castle one.

This meant that he could summon Sandy without a huge amount of skill and complete control. If he could absorb Sandy, he would also have a mark similar to the ones the locals had.

Silver slowly crossed the city street, heading for a small bar called The Hoof. The sign was old and tilted, but the word "Hoof" could still be read. He bit his lower lip, looking at the bar, and sighed heavily, feeling some indecision.

Silver adjusted his raincoat to fit his body better and headed for the entrance of the bar. Through an old wooden door he got inside, where there was a semi-darkness and the smell of smoke, the atmosphere reminded him of a gloomy shelter for those who want to stay in the shade.

There were few customers inside the bar. Both locals and travelers were sitting on old squeaky chairs. Silver felt the eyes on him, so he moved to the bar.

— What can I pour you? Maybe something stronger? a mustachioed man in a black and white suit standing behind the bar asked.

Silver narrowed his eyes, examining the bartender, and realized that this could be a person who knows a lot about the locals.

"No, I need any information," Silver said, raising his eyebrows. His gaze was intense, he was looking into the bartender's eyes, as if trying to read something deeper.

— And what do you want to learn from a humble bartender ? — the man asked, scrolling his mustache several times.

Silver stared at the bartender, his gaze making it impossible to doubt his determination. The man scrolled his moustache, making it clear that he was ready to hear requests.

— Where can I get money? Who controls the city and what to do with the energy of the killed monsters? You know everything," Silver said sharply, looking at the man with a certain contempt.

— Money? the bartender asked reluctantly, as if this topic was unpleasant for him.

— There is a shop in the center of the city called "Sand Vortex".

— People bring materials and resources there, as well as everything that they can collect from the killed monsters.

— Tasks of various ranks are also given there.However, I'm not sure you can handle it.

"You don't feel anything, not even energy," the man replied timidly, nodding towards the shop.

"Even so, does it matter?" Silver asked in a cold tone, keeping his direct gaze on the bartender.

"It does," the man confirmed.

— You have to meditate every day and absorb the energy of the killed monsters. Then at least a small drop of energy will appear in you. But considering your age.

— Probably about 25 years.

"It's unlikely that you can catch up with those geniuses who already have the rank of a golden fox at the age of six," he finished with a grin.

Silver looked down at his hand thoughtfully, as if trying to find the answer in her palms.

— And the city is run by the one whose name cannot be pronounced, — the bartender's answer sounded.

— His people are everywhere, and the name Vandou gives me some unpleasant feelings.

— Apparently, not only to me, — he looked around frantically, wiping the glass on the polished surface.

Silver raised his eyebrows, showing interest in the name mentioned.

— Here's what, here, — the bartender poured into a glass some kind of drink that tastes like whiskey.

— At my expense. Next time it'll be 5 coppers, okay? The bartender looked at Silver with a grin.

Silver silently shook the bartender's hand, abruptly took the glass and turned to look at the crowd around. There were representatives of personalities of different classes in the bar: bandits, masked people and some others were doing their own business.

Some were playing poker at a round table, Silver accepted a glass with a drink and looked appraisingly at the bartender.

— At your expense? Don't think I owe you gratitude," he said dryly, putting his lips to the glass. The drink had a pleasant aroma and moderately sharp piquancy in taste.

With a contemptuous look, Silver looked around the bar.

"What a shitty place," Silver thought, his mood dropping with every moment he spent here.

One of the local bandits, inconspicuous, plump with a bald head, came up to the bar and sat down next to Silver. Ignoring his tall stature, the bandit pulled his palm out of the rack and began examining Silver's hand, which was wearing a Monarch glove.

— Interesting thing you have, can I put it on? How much did you pay for it? The man asked slyly, looking back at him.

Silver stared at the bandit, his expression unchanged. His gaze was cold and impenetrable, as if frozen.

He slowly raised his eyebrows, as if expressing surprise that someone dared to violate his personal space.

"Sorry, buddy, but this 'thing', as you call it, is not for sale," Silver said with a grin that gave off a hint of spark. He made a small gesture, and the Monarch glove slowly disappeared from his hand, as if it had disappeared into thin air.

The bandit choked, his hand remained in the air in the void, as if he wanted to grab something, but instead remained with the void in his hand. Silver raised his glass to his lips, took a sip of the drink and looked at the bandit over the rim of the glass.

— Let's not talk about anything else, my friend. You already know that this is my thing, and you shouldn't meddle in other people's business," Silver said, his voice sounding cold.

The bandit frowned, leaned back in his chair and laughed nervously.

"You're a funny guy, but I have my own interests," the bandit said and, shaking his head, returned to his cup.

Silver looked at the bandit with disdain, then slowly turned to the bar and returned to his thoughts.

As if out of nowhere, a glass bottle whistled shrilly in the air, heading straight for Silver's head. He didn't even move, and the bottle smashed against his sturdy head, as if meeting an invisible wall.

Silver slowly turned his head in the direction of the attacker, his gaze was piercing and cold, like a steel blade.

The crowd around froze, watching what was happening. The bald man who threw the bottle suddenly felt a cold fear engulf him. He shivered and retreated, as if sensing an invisible threat.

Silver turned to him completely, his eyes glittering with an icy light.

The man blushed, his hands began to tremble. He tried to pretend that nothing had happened and turned away, clutching his drink cup.

— Well? Poor guy, didn't you manage to rob me? Silver said cheekily, looking at him with his cold gaze.

"Rob him? — he stretched out the word, as if he was hearing such a concept for the first time.

— Did you really think that your bottle kick could change something? Silver said in a cold tone.

The man tried to laugh, but it was a nervous laugh, with a noticeable tremor in his voice.

— I... I was just joking, man, nothing personal, — the man tried to justify himself.

Silver didn't take his eyes off him, his face remained impenetrable. He came so close that their faces were almost close to each other.

— Listen carefully, — Silver spoke slowly, every word sounded clear and clear.

"I'll eat your skin and drink your blood," Silver said in a cold, penetrating voice.

The man turned away, retreating a couple of steps, he tried to look indifferent, but his eyes betrayed fear.

Silver returned to the bar as if nothing had happened.

A strange scene was playing out in the corner of the bar. The group of guys apparently didn't pay any attention to Silver at all, and their eyes were fixed on the boy they were bullying. They made him lick the table, wipe the stains from drinks, and laughed at his appearance.

— Well, you promised help! Help, don't be shy! one of the bandits chuckled, enjoying the spectacle.

— Get everything out of here! — the bandit ordered.

The boy, who was about fifteen years old, is obviously difficult. He looked weak and defenseless, and a quiet "Help..." came out of his mouth.

— What did you whisper there? one of the bandits asked, grabbing the boy by the hair.

But at that moment, a heavy hand came into place, which passed over the bandit's face with a powerful blow. Silver was already standing by the table, ready to intervene.

His actions were devoid of heroic intentions or any purpose, he simply decided to put in his place those who mock the weak.

Silver quickly created a sand sword and with one powerful blow cut the throat of the bandit. The whole bar exclaimed in surprise, but no one interfered in this chaos.

— Who are you? — asked the skinny man who was sitting quietly, his cold gaze fixed on Silver.

Silver slowly walked over to the table, slowly examining the person who was sitting in front of him. His black hair covered part of his face, and small tattoos on his arms and neck indicated that he was not an ordinary inhabitant of this city.

—No one," Silver replied coldly, not removing the sand sword. "Just a person who is here for a short time.

The skinny man nodded, as if satisfied with the answer, and suddenly smiled, although this smile did not reach his eyes.

— You probably don't know that you entered the den of snakes, — he said, his voice was calm, but filled with a certain amount of irony.

The calm atmosphere in the bar changed dramatically when the fat man tried to attack Silver.

However, Silver reacted quickly, turning around and creating a sand sword that cut the attacker in half. Blood sprayed around, but Silver remained calm.

Sandy also closely monitored the situation, blocking the blow with a sand shield. Silver looked up at the skinny man who was clearly the head of the bandits.

"I don't care who you are, but this boy is coming with me," Silver said, his voice as cold as his gaze.

A skinny man was holding a flask of some kind of drink in his hand, his calm gaze assessing the situation.

"Do you even know who you're dealing with?" — a question was asked.

— Yes, at least with your mom, — the phrase escaped from Silver's mouth with sarcasm.

Then he took the boy by the hand and, without looking back, left the bar, leading him away. Opening the wooden doors with their foot, they went out into the street.