Inside of a pitch black room a slender youth was sitting on a dilapidated wooden chair, his right hand currently glued to a bottle of mushroom wine. It was a drink he was quite fond of, its sweetness made it easy to swallow and its spice scratched an itch in his throat that he could never seem to be rid of.

  Bottles of the same drink covered the floor, its smell filling the dark room. It was a good smell, atleast to Gryff, far better than the stench outside. His stash was gone, the bottle in his hand the last, but it did not matter.

  His left hand counted copper coins from a weathered pouch laying on the worn table. He was currently counting his life savings… It wasn't much, but it was far more than most slum rats were able to earn.

  Those that did have more wealth than Gryff would have had a hard time retaining such an amount, not because of him of course, he looked down on lowly thieves and vermin who took from others without giving anything in return.

  This relatively decent pile of coins before him was hard-earned, given to him by his grateful and loyal customers for his services. They would give him money and in exchange they would receive protection. Sure they might hesitate in the beginning but they would lose far more for refusing him, in the end they would agree and everyone would be for the better.

  Gryff saw it as no different from taxes, except those that paid would actually receive something in return. The idea had come to him after seeing an old shopkeeper pay money to the local government, despite this agreed upon exchange, law enforcement did nothing as local thugs robbed and gutted him.

  ‘Should I spend my last days piled with women or more booze… both?.’ Gryff thought, seeing nothing wrong with his actions, the money would be taken either way. It was safer in his hands, in better use as well.

  ‘Ugh, definitely won't be missing this.’ Gryff thought with a grimace as a familiar smell wafted through the window.

  Though he had tried his best, he could not escape the stink of the outer districts, managing to worm its way in through the shutters. Finishing his drink, Gryff stood up and allowed the outside air in. Moonlight began to seep through as the windows opened, illuminating a small part of the unlit room in a crimson hue.

  Gryff sighed and looked out the window, onto the cracked streets below before looking up at the sky. The moon was growing increasingly crimson every night, soon it would reach its final stage.

  Tomorrow night the moon would reach its final phase and all his hard earned wealth would disappear, along with any other possession. Such was life under the changing moon.

  Anyone born under the moon was cursed, after experiencing the end of 15 cycles, a great teleportation would occur, whisking the young to random locations. Occasionally, a lucky few would appear somewhere close to human settlements, allowing for rescue by nearby cities before they died, often however…

  ‘If I was unlucky enough to be born in this cesspit what were the chances of me being transported somewhere safe?’

  Gryff had been born a day before the cycle ended, ensuring he would join this cycle's teleportation. Unlucky but not uncommon, the poor didn’t tend to procreate with their kids' future in mind. Had his mother simply waited two more days he would have had an entire cycle more to prepare.

  ‘What a selfish woman.’ thought Gryff, shaking his head in disapproval.

  SLAM!

  The room’s door violently swung open, nearly tearing itself from its hinges, a tall silhouette was standing at the entrance.

  “I'm going to kill you!” A furious voice roared, the silhouette lowering his leg after kicking the door. The floor creaked as the figure marched across the room appearing in front of Gyff covered in a scowl.

  Gryff’s right eye twitched in irritation. The intruder was Brenn, a handsome youth with brunette hair and dark eyes to match. He was annoyingly tall, even if Gryff wasn't sitting he would have a hard time looking up at him.

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  “Brenn, my friend… what a pleasant surprise, what brings you to my room?” Gryff cheerfully asked, putting on his best mask. ‘I oughta slit his throat for this disrespect, perhaps on his knees he wouldn't look so high and mighty.’

  “Quit eyeing my throat!” Brenn yelled, his anger increasing. “You spent everything! every last copper, for - for what? For that stupid prank you call severance.” Bren’s voice was full of vitriol, he would most likely continue his futile lecture for a while.

  As Gryff began tuning out Brenn, he began to wonder why he put up with the stiff bastard.

  ‘He's too useful, that's why.’

  Bren was of high birth, destined for greatness, at least he was before his older siblings tried to kill him. Due to being raised in nobility he was afforded privileges most hadn't, learning information only available to the upper echelon.

  His knowledge in runes, his proficiency of the old and new languages, and being a hard bastard to kill would make his absence a heavy blow to Gryff’s operations.

  “If I may… you did agree to the returns and severance and you know as well as I that the money is useless, where would we store it, a bank?” Gryff Chuckled “No, not like we could buy anything of actual value anyways.”

  Gryff’s income wasn't exactly approved by the government, not the least bit helped because he refused to pay taxes. With Gryff soon departing, it was unlikely he would have anything to come back to in the time it took to figure a way back home.

  ‘I’ll give those bastards money when they fix these damn roads!’

  “I don't disagree with refunding the money, but commissioning artists to draw people… sticking it to their wives and sisters, then proceeding to hand it out as severance has to be one of the most asinine uses of money I have ever seen.” Bren said, slightly pausing in the middle of his sentence with a red face.

  ‘He may anger quickly but that quick to embarrass nature seems out of place for someone of his stature.’

  “Does it matter? All those lazy bastards did was borrow our name. By the time we come back they'll have run to some other gang.” He didn't mind paying people for a job well done, but those disloyal dogs were undeserving of a bonus. “Well what's done is done, sadly there is nothing left to give.”

  “And those coins you have in your hand. I trust its for something useful?” Bren's face continued to grow more red by the second, his anger would soon reach its peak.

  “Of course Bren! While I'm teleported to who knows where I will be comforted by my last days here. A handful of breast in my left hand and delicious drink in the other. You are welcome to join.” Gryff said without an ounce of shame.

  Bren sighed.

  “At Least promise to be back by morning for our lessons.”

  ***

  Gryff walked away from the Wild boar with a smile to his, despite Gryff waking quite early, the moon above slowly growing brighter to mark the start of a new day. However he would have to hurry back home quickly if he wanted to keep it. Not only would Bren lecture him on the importance of diligence but the local slum dwellers would soon awaken, walking the streets with faces more somber than their usual sullen look.

  Their bleak attitude owing to the coming night, those born in the outer sector lived hard lives, their malnourished bodies and lacking knowledge of the outside caused high casualties among every cycle.

  ‘You’d think after losing someone every cycle they'd be used to it by now.’

  Despite the lives lost in the hundreds of cycles humanity had endured, the population continued to rise. The harsh conditions under the changing moon were harsh, but it was the reason humanity had yet to perish, its chaotic nature making it undesirable to any of the other races.

  Even humanity didn't want to live here, the chaos caused by the moon was a mass burden to proper develempt, with the mass relocations making it impossible for most to live stable lives.

  The outer districts of Garde were a prime example, originally meant to accommodate people teleported from other cities before relocating them into the main city. However a cycle led to a mass migration of people to flood the city. Now they were a detestable place full of wanton murder and a high stench due to the sewer infrastructure of the district unable to accommodate the number of people.

  It was the city Gryff had been born in and it would have been where he died as well if he hadn't run into Brenn.

  While rummaging through garbage, a few months after he had lost his mother, Gryff noticed a wounded youth bleeding in the dark alley. While Gryff was wondering if he should begin to loot the poor boy or wait for him to fully succumb to his injuries first, a faint glimmer caught his eye.

  The boy had a golden badge, a sign that he was from a prominent family as any local thief would know to not wear anything shiny where it could be seen, that especially counted for weapons. The young boy held up a knife, hearing the footsteps of Gryff approaching, the dead man in armor next to him showing he knew how to use it.

  ‘Idiot shoulda kept it hidden, else I’d had a knife stuck into my neck while trying to take his boots.’

  Gryff simply waited for the boy to lose the strength in his arms. Ordinary he would have left him for dead but today he felt happy, the thrown vegetables in the dumpster had just enough parts without mold for it to be quite filling. With a smile to his face he picked up the boy and started to head home.

  “What are you doing?” The boy said weakly.

  “I’m saving your life.” Gryff answered

  “why?”

  “Just felt like it”

  “Fool”

  It was indeed foolish, the world humanity resided in was no longer their own, the lessons of compassion and mercy did not apply here, though Gryff doubted they had applied even before. Still those who lived closer to the center tended to live longer so he spared the dying boy.

  ‘Emergency funds acquired’

  If the young boy was useless, Gryff would simply turn him over to his killer.