Amon moved incognito through the labyrinthine streets of the capital, slipping past the glittering facades of high society and descending into the shadows of Zephys's underbelly. Though the capital shone as the beacon of the Hyades Republic, it was far from a utopia.
Here dwelled the forgotten: the homeless who clung to life with fading hope, fallen knights and mages who had failed their ascension, and countless others who had surrendered to despair. They gathered in the city's unseen corners, surviving on scraps despite the existence of relief programs that could never reach everyone.
As Amon wandered deeper into the slums, his eyes twitched. Suffering was not new to him, but his heart, becoming ever more human, no longer let him pass without notice. With a quiet sigh, the man who had once been a cold-blooded killer did something he had never done before. He stopped before a young beggar and pressed a few crumpled notes into her trembling hands.
