Filthy.
Chaotic.
A nauseating mix of salty brine and an unwashed stench.
This was Aizen's impression of the common shelter as he entered.
There were no lamps, and the interior felt suffocatingly dark. Every face seemed unfamiliar and cold, their features obscured by shadows.
Clutching the twenty copper coins he had earned, Aizen silently made his way to a corner and sat down.
"Get lost, newcomer! You don't know the rules of the undercurrent here, do you? This spot's ours!"
A shadowy figure emerged from the darkness, his tone harsh and threatening. Even up close, his face remained shrouded in gloom, though his menacing demeanor was palpable.
"Undercurrent" was a term from the Magus World, referring to the unspoken rules of a group or territory. Judging by the man's accent, he wasn't a local from the northeast region.
Aizen didn't respond. He slowly stood up.