"Sleep, my love… because if you don't, the monsters outside the wall will come to steal your soul."
A young woman whispered softly, trying to lull her daughter, a small girl of eight, into sleep. The child lay on a bed made of torn rags and tattered clothes, her gaze fixed on the rusted metal sheets that made up their roof.
The scent of dirt lingered everywhere, not the earthy kind that spoke of rain and soil, but the harsh, filthy kind that only existed in the slums. The girl's messy black hair clung to her face, her patched clothes stitched together with fabrics of different colors to hide holes and tears.
And yet, despite the filth and the poverty, there was warmth between the two of them, an unshakable, fragile happiness.
"What kind of monsters are there, Mother?" the girl asked, turning toward her. Her mother lay on her side, half-asleep, her weary face illuminated by a faint sliver of moon light that crept through a crack in the wall.
"The kinds that can take your body and soul if you don't go to sleep now," her mother murmured with a tired edge in her voice, eyes still closed. She just wanted a few hours of rest before the struggle of another day began.
"I'm not scared of those monsters, you know," the girl said brightly. Her eyes gleamed with childish confidence as she brushed the stray locks of hair behind her ear.
"And why aren't you afraid of the monsters?" her mother asked, her tone teasing yet faintly sad. "Do you have any idea how big those creatures are? We're like ants to them. What would you do if one found out you weren't asleep when you should be?"
The mother still didn't open her eyes.
"It is because I have you," the girl said proudly.
The woman's eyes opened slowly as the child's words reached her.
"I know that if any of the monsters outside the wall try to take me or eat me…" the girl paused, smiling brightly, "my mother will protect me. Just like all the times she's protected me before. No monster can hurt me, because my mother is my greatest hero."
Those words were so sweet they melted into her heart like honey. The pain etched in the mother's face softened into something warm and alive.
"Never doubt that, my love," she whispered, pulling the child close and wrapping her arms around her. "I'll always protect you… even if it costs me my life."
The child smiled against her chest. But suddenly, the world around her shattered like a mirror. The warmth vanished, the sound of her mother's heartbeat disappeared, and someone was calling her name.
"Ivy! Ivy! … Ivyyyyy!"
The girl jerked awake. She wasn't a child anymore; instead, she was therteen now. But aside from her height and sharper features, her condition had only worsened.
She stood in a small tavern, holding a cracked plate in her thin hands as she hurried to clean a table that had just been vacated. Her pale-orange clothes were torn and faded, barely holding together. Her brown scarf covered her head, and though her face was washed clean, her hollow cheeks and frail frame spoke of long hunger.
She was beautiful, but not the kind of beauty people looked at kindly. She was the kind of beauty life had beaten down and left unpolished.
"Ivy! How many times do I have to tell you to clean the tables as soon as the customers leave?"
The voice came from an old man sitting behind a small counter. His stomach bulged over his belt, his wrinkled face resembling that of an old thug rather than a kind elder. The wrinkles weren't from age; they were carved there by greed and cruelty.
His clothes were clean and smooth, though far from luxurious. Not someone from the Inner District, but not quite like the slum dwellers either. Somewhere in between, someone who thrived off those beneath him.
"I am so sorry about that, master. I was about to clean…" she said while holding the dirty plate in her hands, but another loud voice cut her off. It was the bulky old man sitting behind the counter.
"Less talk and more walk! I don't have time for your excuses to cover your laziness. That table better be clean in the next two minutes!" He barked at her at full volume, trying to scare the little girl.
"Yes, master." She hurriedly ran toward the table and started cleaning it. The table was located near the window on the second floor of a small tavern close to the city wall.
As she wiped the wooden surface, she could see the massive wall outside, a wall made of black metal covered in strange, scaled plating. For a moment, the sight of it brought back the cold memories of her past.
"That was the last time I ever slept beside my mother," she whispered to herself, remembering the words her mother used to lull her to sleep.
Everyone told us that we were safe behind the walls, that no monster could hurt us if we stayed on this side.
No monster could cross the wall. But they were wrong. Everyone was lying.
She finished cleaning the table and hurried toward the washing area, where she began scrubbing dishes and drinking pots.
"We've been lied to our whole lives," she muttered, her hands trembling in the cold water. "The night before I last saw my mother, a monster attacked from outside the wall… it killed more than twenty people, including her."
As she spoke, the space around her began to distort and twist, pulling her back into her memories.
Now, she was standing outside the wall. It was very weird. How was that happening to her?
How could she be outside the wall?
She can also see from ten different angles, as though she had ten pairs of eyes. The sensation was strange and overwhelming. Suddenly, a chorus of howls echoed all around her.
The sound of howls filled her with rage, fury, and something darker. Her body trembled, and before she realized it, a deep, feral howl escaped her own throat.
The moment the howl left her lips, she was back inside the wall again, trapped under her mother's body. Her mother was pinning her to the ground, clutching her arms and legs tightly.
They were no longer in their small room. Instead, they were in a narrow alleyway surrounded by damp, filthy walls. The cold from the ground seeped into the little girl's back as confusion and anger built up inside her.
Why is she doing this to me?
What did I do?
You were supposed to protect me…
The woman's pale, trembling hands held her down with desperate strength. There was worry and something close to despair in her mother's eyes.
"It's me, Ivy…" the woman whispered weakly, struggling to keep the girl from moving, as though letting go would bring disaster. "My love, please hold on. Try to remember, I'm your mother. Can't you see who I am?"
Tears welled in her eyes as she spoke, but her words didn't reach the little girl. Instead, they fueled her anger even more.
Why are you doing this to me?
You promised that you would make my every wish come true, so why are you doing this to me now?!
I just wanted to see the wall… why won't you let me?
The fury kept growing.
All around them, chaos unfolded, and people were running toward the giant black wall, while others desperately tried to stop them.
There was a reason why other people were trying to stop others from reaching the wall, because those who managed to reach the wall first were already dead. They had smashed their own heads against the wall, breaking their skulls against the cold, unyielding metal.
It was a horrifying sight, a nightmare painted in blood and madness.
And somehow, the weak young woman was trying her best to keep her daughter from meeting the same fate as the others. The desperate look in her eyes, mixed with confusion over the sudden change in her surroundings, revealed every bit of her misery and struggle in the slums.
Life had already been too hard for her as it was, and now it was taking something far more precious, something she refused to let go of.
She didn't want her daughter to suffer the same fate as the others.
She couldn't bear the thought of losing her.
What would she do if something happened to her?
Tears kept swelling in her eyes, turning everything before her into a blur. All she could see was the faint, hazy outline of her daughter's face, the same daughter who now somehow possessed a power far beyond comprehension.
Her small body was emanating an enormous amount of energy. The frail woman was in no condition to hold down such force, yet defying all odds, she kept the child pinned to the ground with every ounce of strength left in her.
But that same act only made the little girl even more furious. The woman sitting on top of her, restraining all her movements, refused to let her approach the wall, and that made her both sad and angry.
Why was her mother stopping her? All she wanted was to take a closer look at the wall, just a little closer.
Her emotions burned hotter as her eyes began to glow with a red light, and with sheer force, she tried to push away the woman holding her down.
She began to overpower the woman sitting on top of her. The red light in her eyes was beginning to glow even brighter now.
I can do this.
I have to do this.
I need to look at the wall.
I need to know what it's like to see it up close.
She pushed her arms and legs with newfound strength, trying to lift the woman sitting on her. But the woman refused to let go, pleading desperately for her to come back to her senses.
"Please, God, I'm begging you. Please, don't do this to me. I haven't asked anything from you in my entire life, but please, this is the only time I ask You, don't take her from me."
She held her daughter more tightly, her trembling voice breaking as tears rolled down her cheeks.
"Why are you not listening to me? My love, please come to your senses. I won't be able to live in this cruel world if you leave me!"
A tear escaped her swollen eyes, falling onto the little girl's cheek as she struggled beneath her, trying to break free from the woman's hold.
As soon as the tear touched the girl's skin, her mind snapped back to reality. For the first time, clarity washed over her. The rage and confusion melted away, and she remembered herself and the woman sitting on top of her.
"What… where am I?" she murmured, looking around in shock. All around her, she could see people pinning others to the ground, their eyes glowing crimson. Somehow, by some miracle, she had come back to her senses.
"Where are we, Mother? And why are you sitting on me?" she asked softly, her tone calm and confused, so different from the wild fury that had overtaken her earlier.
Seeing her daughter return to her true self, the woman felt something warm blossom inside her chest. Her crying eyes softened, the tears still falling but no longer from despair.
"Thank you, thank you so much God… I don't know how to thank you, but I'm truly grateful," she whispered, still sitting atop her daughter, who lay on the cold, cracked surface of the alley, staring faintly toward the sky.
"My love, I'll explain everything, but for now, please don't try to move," she said weakly, still gripping her child tightly, while chaos continued around them. Many others were still thrashing wildly, their eyes glowing red, lost to madness.
Suddenly, a thunderous boom echoed from above. The wall's massive guns had gone online, sending a rain of projectiles and missiles toward something outside the city. The air trembled as explosions shook the ground.
Panic spread like wildfire. The possessed people pinned to the ground began to surge with even greater power, struggling violently to break free and rush toward the wall. The young woman's heart clenched as she looked around at the chaos, then turned her gaze to her daughter, dreading that she might lose herself again.
But to her surprise, the girl remained calm. Her eyes were clear, no trace of that red glow.
A deep sense of relief enveloped the woman's entire body, melting away her fear, if only for a moment.
Some of the people managed to break free from those trying to pin them down and started running toward the city.
Others were still clinging to the legs of those attempting to flee toward the wall, dragging behind them and slowing their desperate advance.
At the same time, the weak young woman was still sitting on top of the girl, the deafening booms of massive projectiles and cannons echoing from the top of the wall.
The woman felt a fleeting sense of relief knowing that her daughter had returned to her senses, but that peace was short-lived.
Another possessed man, who had managed to break free from the crowd restraining him, now sprinted toward them with a metal pipe clutched in his trembling hands. His eyes glowed a fierce, burning red as he lunged forward with terrifying speed, aiming straight for the small girl pinned down beneath the frail woman.
When the woman saw the man charging at her daughter, she felt her heart collapse within her chest.
The world slowed. The echo of gunfire faded into a dull hum, drowned beneath the thunder of her heartbeat.
The man's steps sounded like cracks of thunder, the metal pipe glinting with the red flare of explosions behind him.
She knew she couldn't stop him. A wave of despair wrapped around her entire being, freezing her in place.
Her ears went numb under the roar of cannon fire and explosions shaking the air. It felt utterly hopeless, but even then, she refused to give in to despair.
With every ounce of strength left in her broken body, she threw herself between the lunging man and her daughter. The metal pipe pierced through her back, tearing its way out from where her heart should have been. In an instant, blood poured from the wound, splattering across the small child beneath her, staining her in a flood of crimson.
"What… happened, Mother?" The girl looked up with a confused, trembling gaze.
Her trembling hand reached for the girl's cheek, smearing her face with blood that was already losing its warmth.
"Always remember, my love…" she whispered.
The girl's small fingers closed around her mother's, refusing to let them fall.
"I love you more than my own life. So live it to the fullest."
For a brief moment, the child's face lit up with a naive happiness, believing her mother's words meant comfort, not farewell.
But as the warmth drained from the woman's body, replaced by the cold stillness of death, the truth became painfully clear. The young girl could feel it; her mother was gone.
The man who attacked them was quickly pinned down by the soldiers who had just arrived, taking control of the chaos around the area.
But it was hopeless for the little girl, who now sat in the alley, crying desperately while clutching her mother's lifeless body, surrounded by the thunder of cannons and the blinding flashes of missiles raining down from the walls above.
It was a painful sight. A mother dying beneath a rain of fire, her blood painting her child's cheek, the last warmth she would ever feel.
Then, once again, the world shattered like broken glass. A sharp crack split through her mind, and she was pulled back into reality, the present. The sound that followed wasn't an explosion this time, but the harsh snap of a whip striking her back.
Pain tore through her body, making her realize she had stopped working,lost in her memories again.
The same bulky old man stood behind her, his cruel eyes glaring as he raised the whip for another strike.
The pain was real. The old man wasn't holding back. The dish slipped from her trembling hands, falling into the sink with a loud splash.
"I think it's time for you to learn your lesson now! How many times do I have to call you?" he barked, his voice dripping with venom. "Do you expect me to come here every time you decide not to answer?"
His words were soaked in poison, every syllable meant to wound. The first whip had already torn into her back, carving a piece of flesh from the teenage girl's skin.
The pain from that single whip was unbearable, yet for some reason, Ivy managed to hold it in.
Seeing no reaction from her, the old man struck three more times, each lash more powerful than the last.
The agony of every strike was truly frightening, making Ivy's skin crawl, but she kept herself composed and said in a pained voice,
"I am so sorry, Master. It will not happen again."
She bowed deeply, the dirty water from the sink running down her trembling arms as she bent forward.
"You said the same thing last time!" the old man barked, still furious, and swung the whip again. A loud splash echoed as the blow landed. With it came another wave of unbearable pain, yet Ivy stayed silent, her face calm despite the agony.
"Do you expect me to believe you again?" he roared, striking her shoulders once more. Another lash, another shock of searing pain, but still, she bore it with quiet endurance.
"You lazy rats! Why am I paying you? All you do is wander around, huh? You think I'll let it go this time?"
After seeing no reaction from Ivy, the old man's anger flared further. He wanted to teach her a lesson for real this time. This time, he would not hold anything back.
"Your lazy hide needs a mindful lesson!" he spat, pulling his arm back, preparing to strike again.
Ivy stood motionless now, fully aware that the old man wouldn't listen no matter what she said. She braced herself for the next lash.
But before the whip could land, a young woman stepped between them. She wore an old purple dress with an apron tied at her waist, her head covered by a large chef's cap. She appeared to be around twenty-five. Though her situation was no better than Ivy's, she still carried an air of grace and quiet beauty.
Raising both her hands in front of the old man, she shielded Ivy with her body.
"Please, let it go this time, Sir Zander," she pleaded, her voice soft yet firm.
"I can assure you she'll do her job properly from now on," she added, her eyes filled with genuine concern.
"Why are you defending that little wretch, Allen? She deserves this!" the old man snapped, his face red with fury.
Seeing his unyielding anger, Allen knew she had to take another approach.
"Oh, come now, Sir Zander. Can't you forgive her just this once for my sake?" she said with a gentle smile. "I know you're a man of forgiveness… and of great importance."
Her words were smooth, dipped in honey. "Why waste your time on someone so lowly? A man like you surely has greater matters to attend to."
The old man's expression softened, his anger melting under her flattery.
"I suppose you're right, Allen," he said, a glint of pride in his eyes. "As expected of you—you truly know my worth."
He gave a satisfied nod. "Very well then, I'll let her go this time, only because you asked. But I won't forgive any more laziness."
With that, he turned and left the washing area, a crooked grin spreading across his face as he went.
As soon as he walked out of the washing area, Allen turned around and looked at Ivy with a pained expression.
"What is the matter, Ivy? You seem rather off today." She gently pulled her by the arm and led her outside. They both left the washing area and entered a small, private room meant only for them.
Allen made her sit down and began tending to her wounds from the whips. She slowly lifted the fabric covering Ivy's back, revealing the deep, raw lashes across her skin, blood still seeping from some, while others bore the faded marks of old scars.
"Are you going to tell me or not?" Allen said softly, as she applied a white-colored remedy to the wounds, a thick potion or some kind of homemade medicine.
"I was thinking about my mother," Ivy said, wincing as the cool paste touched her torn skin. "Thinking how she left me helpless in this world…Allen, why did she sacrificed herself and left me alone in this cruel place."
"Don't say that!" Allen snapped suddenly, her voice sharp, her words cutting through the room.
"She gave her life to protect yours. Only a handful of parents in these slums would ever do that for their child. Most of them would sell their own children if it meant earning a few coins." She spoke as she carefully dabbed the wounds with a piece of cloth, her tone softening again.
"Yet your mother did everything within her power to keep you safe, to keep you away from the filth of this world. You should be thankful for that," she said as she applied more ointment, her voice heavy with emotion.
"Yeah, thankful," Ivy muttered bitterly. "Thankful because she left me all alone in this world to suffer? Maybe she shouldn't have left me if she wanted me to be thankful.
She should've stayed here with me, suffered with me, if she wanted my gratitude.
Instead, she left me alone…" Her voice trembled, layered with pain, sorrow, and buried warmth.
"Please stop, Ivy," Allen said, her tone breaking slightly. "I know you don't mean that. Life here is hard, I know it's cruel, but it was the same for your mother too, and you know that. The people of the Grind have always lived difficult lives."
She wrapped the last of the bandages gently around Ivy's shoulder.
"This world doesn't treat us fairly, especially those without powers. Your mother didn't have any, yet she still kept you safe. She sacrificed her life to protect yours. If it were in her power, she would have given you the best life possible."
Allen paused, helping Ivy slip her shirt back on.
"But unfortunately, she didn't have any powers to change fate. So don't you ever speak ill of your mother, do you hear me?" Her voice carried authority now, a commanding, maternal tone.
"Even if your mother isn't here, I'm still with you. If you remember her, come to me. I'll take all your sorrows and pain."
Allen wrapped her arms around Ivy from behind, holding her gently.
"We'll face that pain together. But I can't keep watching you get hurt like this. So promise me, you'll do everything the owner of this place aske of you. One day, we'll have our own restaurant, and your life will be more easier to live in."
Allen spoke softly, her voice filled with warmth and hope,the way a mother would speak to her child.
Ivy nodded quietly. She knew that Allen was the reason she was still alive, still breathing. So she complied with all her requests without protest.
"Now," Allen said, pulling back with a small smile, "why don't you go grab some ingredients from the corner store? Most of the supplies are finished, and I already told the shopkeeper about them. You just need to make a quick run and pick them up while I take care of the dishes."
"No, I can't let you do my work," Ivy protested, shaking her head. She knew Allen was the cook of the small tavern and already had too much on her plate. She couldn't allow her to handle her chores too.
"Oh, don't worry about that," Allen said with a wave of her hand. "Most of them are already clean. Only a few are left, and I can take care of those myself."
She walked out of the private room and headed toward the washing area.
"And I don't want to hear any arguments this time," she called over her shoulder with a teasing firmness. "Now get moving and grab those ingredients before more customers show up."
She picked up a plate from the sink, resuming her work. Ivy gave a small nod and quietly left the tavern.
She began walking down the narrow alley toward the corner store. The air smelled of damp stone and smoke. As she moved, her eyes instinctively lifted toward the towering wall nearby. The area was close enough that everyone could see it, the great black wall with its surface covered in dark metallic scales.
Her gaze lingered on it as she walked, and on top of the wall, she noticed a group of five people moving along the ramparts, armed, uniformed, alert. A woman in a black shirt and trousers led them, followed by four others dressed in grayish-green military gear.
A flicker of disgust crossed Ivy's face. She knew who they were, the soldiers. The enforcers of the wall. For some reason, she hates everyone related to the Army.
But when she saw the woman in black, her crimson-red hair gleaming under the sunlight, her hatred deepened further. Perhaps it was the woman's presence… or maybe just the color of her hair.
Still, she turned away. She had chores to finish, and she didn't want Allen worrying about her again.
So she quickened her pace and headed toward the store to fetch the ingredients.