Agreement

Sam is a tall young man with strong, sharp features partially hidden behind his glasses.

He is led by another man in an elegant suit. They walk through a long, dark, and damp stone hallway, chambers lined with metal bars stretch endlessly to the left and right.

Sam halts abruptly. A strange sensation pulling his attention to one of the chambers.

The Howl Lv 43 glows faintly on a weathered tablet beside the cell..

"GHRRRR!!" can be heard from the dark. 

"No, no! You don't have money for that one! And even if you did, you can not have it. HE's too strong for you." and for a split second, the man's eyes flash with genuine concern, but it's gone just as quickly, replaced by the same smug pride.

They continue walking down the corridor until they reach the last chamber on the right. The tablet beside it reads: Roka.

Inside the cell, a small boy sits motionless, looking no older than nine. Snow-white hair falls messily over his face, partially covering his sharp, canine ears. A thin, ragged tail coils around his waist like a wounded animal trying to shield itself.

But the most striking feature is his hands, his fingers end in vicious fangs instead of nails, their tips sharp enough to tear flesh with ease. Rusted chains cling to his wrists, their weight forcing his shoulders into a constant, miserable slouch.

"This is the cheapest one, we believe he does not know how to speak."

The boy's eyes are hollow and distant, a burning hatred smoldering beneath the emptiness. It's a gaze that speaks of suffering and rage.

Sam studies the boy. He steps closer to the cage, his voice calm.

"I want to talk with him... alone."

The man rotates his wrist, and with a metallic clank, the cage door creaks open.

Sam steps inside, the air cold and thick with the scent of rust and damp stone. He lowers himself to one knee, meeting the boy's hateful gaze with calm, unwavering eyes.

"Look at me!"

The boy's head rises slowly, his thin face pale and hollowed by hunger. His eyes, though sunken and weary, burn with a silent fury, locked onto Sam's face.

"What do you want in this world?" Sam's voice is a whispers.

The boy remembers his past, his family, his home, the warmth of laughter and the scent of the wild. But at the end, his mind drifts to the humans who shattered it all. Faceless gladiators, all red, stormed his village, their eyes empty of mercy. Soulless soldiers marched through the forest, their heavy boots crushing leaves and dreams alike. The echoes of steel and fire still burn in his mind...

"I want them to pay!"

Sam's gaze sharpens.

"The Bloodforge guild owns the slave market here... and in other cities."

The boy's eyes widen, the mention of the guild's name cutting through his hate-filled daze like a blade.

"Do you want them to pay?" Sam's voice remains calm, but there's an edge to it, like a spark waiting to ignite.

Roka's answer is silent but unmistakable. A single, fierce nod.

The boy sharpens his eyes when the guild name is spoken and nodes to Sam question.

"We can do that. Together." Sam's voice drops lower, his words like a dark promise. "I can free you. I have the resources to establish a guild. We can become stronger, enough to tear apart everything they've built. And together, we may be able to satisfy your desire..."

He leans in closer, his own eyes now burning with the same rage he sees reflected in the boy's."...and perhaps mine, too."

"But there are conditions. If you agree to join me, you will never leave my guild, and you will do as I say, not as a slave, but as my subordinate. As my... comrade. And this will go on for the next 15 years."

***

Info: Roka is a half-beast. Half-beasts age differently from humans; they reach full maturity within 5 years of birth, and their adult life lasts only another 25 years. From then on, their bodies rapidly deteriorate due to old age. Almost no half-beast lives beyond 35 years.

***

"Do you agree with my conditions?"

Roka's mind can't focus on anything but revenge. His eyes flicker around, taking in the cold, unforgiving metal of the cage. He's still trapped. Still weak. His sharp gaze returns to Sam, burning with determination.

"I agree."

"I also agree."

Satisfied, Sam turns and walks out of the cage. His expression remains calm, but his voice carries a sharp authority."I will take this one. No subjugation spell."

The man in the elegant costume stares at him, eyebrows raising in surprise."Are you sure?" he asks, his tone laced with both disbelief and mockery. "These creatures aren't like us. You need control, or they'll tear you apart the moment they get the chance. That one especially. He's feral. Dangerous."

"Tell me the price." Sam's words are blunt, leaving no room for negotiation.

"We do not recommend that. The subjugation spell exists for a reason. You'll regret not using it."

"The price!" Sam's voice snaps like a whip, his patience thinned to a razor's edge.

The man's eyes twitch, but he quickly forces a smile."Three big silver coins."

Sam reaches into his coat, pulling out the silver coins, and places them firmly into the man's outstretched hand.

The man waves his hand in the air, and the chains around Roka's wrists disintegrate. The boy stumbles forward, his thin body swaying slightly.

Without another word, Sam crouches down, lifts Roka onto his shoulder, and begins walking away from the cold, filthy corridor. His steps are steady, firm.

The man watches them, his eyes filled with both greed and a growing unease. Sam glances back, his eyes cold like steel."You should be worried about yourself, you Bloodforge seller."

The man's smile falters, his expression twisting in a mix of confusion and fear.

After leaving the slave market, Sam doesn't head straight to their hideout. Instead, he takes Roka down narrow, dimly lit alleys, leading the boy to a place he had never wanted to return: the orphanage.

The air grows heavier with each step. The building is surrounded by a rusted, barbed-wire fence, and the grounds are overrun with overgrown weeds. The windows are now covered in grime and dust, obscuring the inside.

"This is where I grew up, Roka," Sam says, his voice somber. "This is where I learned to survive."

A group of filthy, ragged children wander outside the building. Their faces are gaunt, eyes hollow from hunger and neglect. Their clothes are torn, mismatched, and barely hanging onto their thin frames.

The pain in Sam's eyes can be seen, the ghosts of his past still haunting him.

"This is where I learned to survive," Sam repeats, his voice quieter now, heavy with memories. "This was my reality."

Roka doesn't respond at first, but his eyes scan the worn-down building, the crumbling walls, and the miserable children. It's clear to him that Sam's past is a wound that still lingers.

Sam's eyes harden as he watches the children.

"I need you to do something, Roka. Don't speak to me like I'm rich and powerful because I'm not. Not yet anyway. But that's the goal."

Roka remains silent.

Sam clenches his fists, his jaw tightening.

"This… this is why I fight. To make sure this." he gestures to the miserable state of the orphanage "never happens again. The unmasurable unfairness of this world will never happen again."

Sam stands up, his posture rigid, full of resolve.

"But for now, a guild must be made, and our affiliations must be found. But first, you need to eat."

They turn to leave the orphanage behind, their footsteps echoing as they walk.