Chapter 9 - Grand Entrance

"Chop chop!" the man shouted, drawing his sword in the process. "The sooner we get this over with, the less of a chance we trash this place before we leave."

A lump grew in Leo's throat, the weight of the situation beginning to crush him. He was sure the others could feel it too. The silence made it clear, and he could feel the eyes that wandered on him before they darted away. Blood clung to his fingers, throbbing with guilt—impossible to ignore.

The man scanned the crowd, sword in hand. His armor glowed in the firelight—white silk trimmed in gold, a burning chestplate gleaming with authority. A polished helmet concealed everything but his mouth. Every soldier wore the same gear. It wasn’t protection—they came to remind them who held power.

Leo couldn't help but look down at his feet. He nearly cringed at his feet—his toenails long and claw-like, feral. It took him a while to truly understand how isolated he was amidst the silence and glances. Starting from zero seemed ideal—even in a shunned community. Maybe that kind of hardship would bring them closer, like a real family. But now, he realized how different this world was from what he had expected. Mainly, how different he was from the people he'd already considered family. They abandoned the features they resented, while he wore them as a reminder of why.

A sniffle broke the silence. Leo didn’t want to look, but it crushed him not to.

Tears streamed down Anna’s face as she tried to hold them in. Her lips quivered like words wanted to escape, but sobs might come out instead.

"Anna, I'm sorry, but it'll be okay," Leo said, but he didn't believe those words himself. He was probably going to die and might've just killed his entire village in the process. But still, he had to try and hope that maybe it would be okay.

Anna only shook her head, a choked cry slipping past her bitten lips. Leo could feel his heart breaking the longer he looked. But he had to be strong, for now.

"It will," Leo reassured. "I don't regret it."

"Leo," his mother's voice chimed in. "Please, stay safe out there. Don't give up, even if it seems too difficult. It's hard to believe, but you never know what could happen."

You never know what could happen.

That's right. Nothing was set in stone, even if it seemed like it. Things can change.

"I will, Mom. Thanks, I love every one of you," Leo said, managing a small smile. "Please, try not to worry about me anymore."

The smile faded from his face as he looked around. Sorrowful, blue-gray faces looked at him, while some looked down. He could hear the bonfire crackle, although it was wavering, like his spirit. This was likely the last time he would be here and see these faces. How long would it take for him to forget their faces? Their voices? Everything. Or maybe, he would never forget.

Leo turned around, facing the soldiers and stepping forward. Sweat began to drench his palms as his skin crawled, urging him to run far away. Of course, he wanted to run, but what good would it do? He knew nothing about this world, and after witnessing the orcboar, honestly, it would be better to go this route. Maybe they would give him an easy death. But who knows? Anything could happen.

The soldier looked at him, his lips curling up in amusement. Leo couldn't see his eyes, but he could feel the disgust cast on him, like a spell.

"You're the worm that did it?" the soldier scoffed with a tilted smirk. His head tilted as he looked at Leo's hand, then at his cut. "Seems like it. I've always hated those damn claws. Maybe I'll take that hand off before we put you in cuffs."

Those words were like a gong in Leo's head. Take off his hand? Hell no, he wasn't going to let that happen. They don't know what happened, the pain that person inflicted. All they saw was a worm. But maybe he really was a worm to them. Powerless. Disposable. There was nothing he could do to stop them if they did want his hand.

"Ple—" Leo began before a command cut him off.

"Did I say you could speak?" the soldier barked. "I didn't. So hurry up and get over here, I want to get home and sleep, you blue freak."

Right.

He wasn't an equal to them. He was almost nothing, if not nothing, in some of their eyes. A worm. A freak. Something to be disposed of as soon as possible.

The grass was cool beneath his feet, as if trying to calm him. But it only reminded Leo of the freedom he was about to lose. He might never get to feel the grass beneath his feet again, breathe fresh air, or dream ever again. Unlucky, that's what he was. It was just a matter of chance that he was born into this world and not another.

"Get on over here," a gloved hand clamped onto his hair, yanking him forward, nearly sending him to the ground. "Get up!"

He could hear his mother gasp, Anna fight back tears, and imagine the pain and anger on his father's face—that of a father who couldn't protect their family.

Leo managed to stand up before raising his trembling hands. He didn't even want to, but he wanted to try and get on their good side, because then maybe they wouldn't cut off his hand.

The clinking of metal chains sounded as the soldier brought out handcuffs. Leo's eyes widened. Serrated metal teeth sat on the inside of the cuffs, as well as traces of blood that hadn't been cleaned off properly from the previous victim. The cuffs swung open with a zip before clamping down on his wrists, slicing into them.

"It's time to go home, boys," the soldier said, attaching Leo's cuff to a strap on his horse. Then, with a kick to the horse's side, they ran off.

Leo’s body lurched—his upper half yanked forward while his legs stumbled behind. Searing pain radiated from his shoulders as they were being slowly ripped from their sockets. The teeth of the handcuffs were cutting a jagged circle around his wrists as he rocked from side to side like a flag in the wind, inevitably rotating his wrists inside of them. His feet struggled to stay grounded as he tried to run alongside the horse. Toes cracked and nails snapped as his feet dragged and slammed against the rocks and dirt beneath him. He thought stubbing a toe was bad. This was worse. So bad that he could hear his cries echo through the night, and was sure they could as well.

The trees rolled by in a blur. The stars turned into streaks of light. Leo didn't know how long it had been since he was taken, but it felt like an eternity. Eventually, the pain became somewhat bearable—probably because it couldn't get any worse. The clapping of hooves on dirt faded into the shuffle of gravel, then the sharp clack of hooves on stone. Then they stopped.

Leo's eyes stretched open, straining as he took in the sight before him. The city walls towered over them, reaching out into the sky, like hands trying to catch the moon. While the trees beside them were left behind, dreaming of reaching the heights even the smallest wall stood at.

Orange flames burned on large torches that hung on the walls, glowing with something warm but oddly ominous. The flames danced alongside their shadows on the wall. It was like they were mocking him. Flames that were ready to torch him once he stepped inside the gates, but tempted his soul outside of it.

But it might just be because he was here for all the wrong reasons that it felt like that. For all he knew, it could be the most welcoming sight a person could see.

Something that truly felt ominous, though, was the massive black gate suspended above the entrance, like a sentinel. Its bottom edges were sharpened, like stakes. A shiver ran through his body. It was probably for emergencies, but he could imagine it crashing down on top of them.

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The chatter of the soldiers broke him out of his trance. He winced as the jagged cuffs tore into his bloody wrists as the horse started to move.

"Hah, you haven't even seen anything like this before, have you? Bug-eyed freak," the soldier said, a sly smirk on his face.

Well, he wasn't wrong. Leo hadn't seen anything like this before, not even in his past life. Maybe in photos or some open-world fantasy games, but seeing it in person was completely different. The city had always been a taboo thing to talk about back home. Almost no one talked about it, so he didn't know what to expect. But this? This was something else entirely.

Home. It was funny how easy that word came to mind. For him to call that poor little dwendol village home, like he didn't have one back then. But maybe that's how they all felt. Maybe that was why they didn't speak about the city.

Because nowhere else would accept them. Not like that run-down village did.

The clicking of hooves on stone resumed as they passed beneath the gate and stepped inside.

Life.

That was all he could think about when the flood of voices hit him. The laughter, chatter, and shouts in the distance drowned out the once-dominant sound of hooves. Children darted across the streets, zig-zagging between legs and carts, while others sat on benches, eating and talking. A street performer balanced atop a spinning barrel, juggling flaming swords, the crowd around him gasping and cheering.

It was overwhelming—overwhelmingly warm.

It felt natural, like he belonged here. This was supposed to be home.

It felt like it.

Vendor stands lined up alongside the street, resting beneath hanging lamps like colorful toys on display. The air shifted from cold metal and blood to the sweet scent of knotted pastries, and even a mystical smell, something like magic. Signs and banners fluttered above each stand with their flair. His heart fluttered, too. His eyes stung with tears as he took it all in.

It was every child's dream come true.

This—this magical feeling of wonder—was what he wanted.

Buildings loomed behind the vendor rows, towering like older siblings. Some brick, others wood; windows glimmered with candlelight, slanted rooftops stacked on top of one another like puzzle pieces. Balconies overflowed with flowerpots and windchimes, some chipped, some elegant, but all alive.

And for a moment, even as he was dragged through the streets, wrists raw and bleeding, Leo forgot why he was here.

He was a prisoner.

"A dwendol?" a voice cut through the awe clouding his mind.

"What, a dwendol? Wait, look at his hand!" another voice shouted.

All of a sudden, something that was awe-inspiring just moments before wasn't so magical now. Instead, it was a grim reminder.

Leo couldn't look anymore, dropping his head and slouching forward. He could only see his shredded wrists and broken feet. Bruised toes and cracked toenails. His bloodstained hand. His blue skin.

That's right. He would never belong here. He wasn't meant to be accepted.

Leo's heart ached. The kids back home would've loved even catching a glimpse of the city, smelling the sweets, and seeing the toys. Enjoying the happiness that came with freedom.

A pitter-patter of footsteps ran up beside them, prompting the horse to slow down. His heart began to race. He could see that it was a little girl, her naive eyes shining curiously.

"Mister, what is a dwendol doing here inside the city?" the little girl asked. Leo closed his eyes, feeling a twinge in his heart. The answer was simple because it was the truth.

"This dwendol did a very bad thing, so we're going to take him to prison," the officer said. The little girl nodded and darted off.

Even Leo couldn't deny it. There was no lie to be told here. It's not like they took him unlawfully; he killed someone and would have to be judged for it, just like back in his past life. But he doubted that they would give him a trial.

Their eyes bore into him. Stares peeling him like fruit. Layer by layer, until all that was left was an ugly, raw, judged pit. His skin itched from the shame, but he still looked around, moving only his eyes.

Humans were everywhere, some gossiping in groups, while others took a glance before going about their day. Then, his eyes widened.

He was right—there were elves. Their graceful, long, pointed ears made them unmistakable. Nothing from his world—books, movies, games—ever did them justice. They didn’t look real. Their beauty was almost unnatural, like walking art. Every line and curve looked deliberate, sculpted. He couldn't look away. Then something else walked in front of them.

A fantasy classic: short, stocky, and undeniably competent—dwarves.

There weren’t many, not compared to elves or humans, but their presence was impossible to miss. Their stout frames radiated strength and purpose. One male dwarf had just strolled past a group of elves, hauling a dozen glowing weapons like nothing. Another followed, an anvil strapped to his back like a pillow. They wore their features like badges of honor. Their height, often seen as a flaw by others, was their pride. It made them dwarves—and nothing could change that.

Unlike dwendols.

Unlike him.

At first, he couldn't understand why the villagers back home seemed to resent him so much. But now, he was starting to understand. His heart was twisted, stirring an ember of anger and shame each time he saw his claw-like nails. His gray-blue skin. The bladed teeth inside his mouth. This was what made them suffer. A despised body that harbored a longing spirit. Of course, they would do anything to change it. Of course, they would abandon what he had—even if it only made them a little more tolerable in people's eyes.

Leo was so deep in his thoughts that even when they stopped, he continued moving forward.

"Don't run," the soldier mocked, slapping the back of Leo's head.

Leo froze and looked at the building in front of them.

It wasn’t anything spectacular—just an ordinary building with no windows. Only a small sliding gate sat beside the front doors. A bored guard leaned back in his chair behind it, blinking at the sight before him.

"The hell is this?" the guard asked, squinting skeptically.

"A dwendol killer," the soldier replied.

Leo stumbled forward as a firm hand shoved him from behind. The serrated cuffs tore into his wrists from a different angle, forcing a scream out of him. The chain hadn't been untied.

"You're telling me this frail thing killed someone? Looks like a stiff breeze would blow him away," the guard said.

"Take a look at those bloody claws. That's all the proof you need," the soldier said with a smirk.

With another tug, they dragged Leo towards the door.

"Alright, alright, I wasn't doubting. Come on in."

The door creaked open with an earthy screech. Leo flinched as the harsh yellow light inside burned dark splotches across his vision.

Lanterns hung from the ceiling, casting a warm but sickly glow off the yellow-orange walls of the prison. Black iron bars sealed off each cell. Some walls were cracked and crumbling, like they’d stood for centuries; others looked freshly built. Echoes of shouting and idle chatter clashed into a chaotic symphony.

Sand crunched beneath his feet as they ventured deeper into the prison.

The people inside the cells were as diverse as the voices. A human with scars all over his body and a slash over his eye reached through the bars of his cell. On Leo's right sat a wrinkly old dwarf who seemed oddly at peace with everything going on. Leo had never been to a prison before—and he hadn’t planned to—but he’d seen enough videos online to know it was never a place anyone wanted to be. And it didn’t seem any different here.

"That thing can go here," the guard said as the lock to the cell clicked and the bars swung open.

Before Leo could take in the cell, a stiff boot slammed into his back, blasting him off his feet. He reached out, trying to catch himself. But he was met with his fingers snapping at odd angles as they slammed into the wall. Then his face flattened against the wall, sending a shockwave that rattled his skull. Sharp pain followed—blood vessels bursting behind his eyes before it all went dark.

The curtains parted slightly, exposing the ceiling of the cell. Then it parted all the way.

"Ugh," Leo groaned, placing a hand over his cheek. His nose burned like someone had punched it, tearing up his eyes.

Wait, his hands were free.

His skinny arms hovered over him. The cuts on his wrists looked like torn paper—ripped, raw, and ready to peel away. And then there was his right hand—the murder weapon.

They hadn't even processed him or anything, just threw him into a cage like an animal and left him. Were his hands going to be bloodstained forever? At this point, it could be possible, but it didn't matter. A deep sigh left his chest as he sat up, finally taking in his cell.

His cell was bad—really bad.

The cell was a small cubic shape. There was only about a head-height of space separating the top of his skull from the ceiling, and the cell itself looked like it could barely fit two cars. A hole in the floor faced the front of the cell, presumably the toilet. But he couldn't imagine using that, knowing that a person would see him doing his business. Did they think he was an exhibitionist? He wasn't that shameless. There was also no sink in the cell, and what he assumed was his bed was a large slab of stone that wasn't even flat.

No blankets.

No sheets.

Just straight stone.

Leo sighed in defeat. There was no way he would escape this prison. What could he even do? If that one scarred human couldn't escape, no one could. Maybe he had to take a different approach, like the old dwarf he saw earlier. He seemed to be at peace, right?

First things first, he would try to get as comfortable as he could. His muscles were sore, aching like they'd been stretched beyond repair. The slash on his chest pulsed like an alien with each heartbeat, sending pain throughout his nerves. His head was still ringing from hitting the wall, too. If the world weren't going to treat him right, he would try it himself.

Leo stretched his arms out before gritting his teeth. Searing pain shot through his lats and shoulders as they cramped. Then his body jolted to attention at a sudden sound.

"Hey there. What's a dwendol doing around here?" a scratchy, but light voice hissed, slithering into Leo's cell.

Leo’s head snapped around, his eyes darting to the darkest corners of his room and even the ceiling above.

What? He thought he was alone, so why was this person's voice so clear?

"Over here," the scratchy voice called from his left.

There it was—an eyeball peeping through a hole in the wall.

A slitted pupil.