Owning an inn was one of the better choices Balrog had made in his life.
The orc got to hear the whispers of all the latest gossip.
Who was sleeping with whom, who had opened up an illegal business, and who was recently murdered were usually all very hot topics.
But for the past week now, all these roughnecks only wanted to talk about the same thing.
"Did you hear..? About the Island of the Sword Angels, I mean.."
"Fucking horrific… they say the entire place just crumbled."
"I heard that weird church is helping relocate the few survivors they could locate, but they're mostly bringing back orphans and widows…"
Balrog prayed that at some point, everyone would find a huge scandal to focus on, and they could stop talking about one little natural disaster. It depressed the hell out of him.
"I need a room…"
Balrog took a break from wiping down the counter and looked up at the unfamiliar patron who'd approached him silently.
He was of the larger sort. His body was wrapped in a hooded cloak that covered the top half of his face.
The stranger had no shoes, just footwrappings.
Balrog immediately sneered.
"Take your wretched soul down to some other hidey hole. This is a quality establishment, and I am almost certain you're not carrying around the requisite coin."
The hooded figure reached inside the sack at his side and loosened the drawstrings.
Reaching inside, he pulled out a small, blue gem the size of a single gold coin.
He placed the gem on the counter, and Balrog dropped his jaw right along with it.
The orc looked back and forth between the stranger, the gem he dropped, and the burlap sack he carried.
"…Y-You sure you just need one room? You can have two- do you want two?? I'll give you two."
-
Solomon closed the door to his room and pulled off his hood.
Tossing the fabric onto the bed, he walked over to the window and peered outside into a busy street.
When Solomon stepped through Redeemer's portal, he had thought he'd end up back at home, amongst the rubble of everything he had destroyed.
Instead, he was around a thousand miles away, on the continent of Eirbaine.
To the world, this was largely recognized as the world's central continent. It sits directly underneath the four rifts. Making this place a hotbed for trade and commerce.
Without a doubt, it is the single richest land in the entire human realm. Emperor Jorre Na-Inna Eirbaine is said to be a very wise and powerful Titan-Blood of an unseen variety. He has been alive for well over three hundred years, and has over fifty official wives and an estimated 1,200 children.
Solomon knew that he was said to routinely purchase trainers from six of the seven great martial families to enrich his armies, making them a force to be reckoned with.
He paid handsomely, but Zadkiel was the only one who would never sell to him. His dislike of Titan-Bloods as a whole was well-documented.
Solomon stared out into the bustling street. It was unlike anything he'd ever seen.
The streets were paved with hand-carved stone, in the shape of triangles with an eye in the center.
The buildings were clean and well-maintained. Even the older, more rundown places could still pass for quality establishments in any other corner of the world.
The entire street was painted with red, grey, and orange colors. Glowing paper lanterns illuminated the night's sky and further contributed to the jubilant atmosphere shared among the citizens.
Solomon eventually decided that he didn't feel like looking at happy people.
He shut the blinds to his window and stood up from his chair.
His room was outfitted with a bed and bath, and the cook downstairs provided meals to order.
Solomon decided that he would bathe first and then step downstairs for something to eat.
He was about halfway across his room before he stopped in his tracks and remembered his condition.
'Oh... right.'
Solomon changed direction and began walking towards a full-length wall mirror.
He shrugged off his shirt and pants and stared at his body.
Since yesterday, he had felt himself changing slowly. Now, he was sure of it.
His densely packed muscles had not only grown, but they had also spread out more evenly across his body.
He had gone from resembling a top-heavy musclehead to a more ideal paragon of athleticism.
He might have even grown another inch in height...
But his height and physique changes weren't what lingered in Solomon's mind the most.
He placed a hand over his chest and paused.
Even though Solomon's heart was still beating, his lungs were not filling with oxygen.
He could still draw breath if he needed to, but it was as if his body had decided that doing so was a waste of energy, and thus should be a non-automatic function.
Solomon would have marveled at the change if he didn't resent the fact that he couldn't die. Everyone he cared about had already left him behind.
The man who was practically a father figure to him.
The woman he loved, but never told.
And the brother with whom he had crawled through nearly every stage of life.
All had left him. And now, he was cursed to wander the land with them only in his memory.
How long would it be, he wondered, before he could no longer recall their faces? Their voices?
The very thought was almost enough to make him want to jump into a volcano. But there was no longer a point to that.
Out of the corner of his eye, Solomon saw a bottle of alcohol sitting on the nightstand.
He moved to grab it and uncorked the bottle with a simple flick of his finger.
His eyes became slightly hazy as he poured the liquor onto the wooden floorboards.
'For my family who has passed away, may your loved ones greet you as you pass the gates. And as you head toward the crossroad's light, I pray your path leads to eternal life.'
Surrounded by darkness, Solomon brought the bottle to his lips and drank like a man possessed.
He knew he was becoming inebriated when he started hearing the voices of the dearly departed.
'Ugh, my head is killing me... where am I...? Why can't I see my hands...? And... oh, no..'
Solomon kept drinking.
'If this is a game, I can promise you that I don't find this funny, whoever you are...I could have lived with everything else, but taking away my junk is crossing the line! Let me out!'
Glass shattered as Solomon dropped his bottle without warning.
His eyes were filled with disbelief as tremors seized his body.
"...Raizel..?"
As soon as the name left his lips, a blue smoke left his chest and gradually took a familiar human shape.
"... Oh, thank fuck it's back… I mean, I can kinda see through it, but at least it's back."