"Congratulations, wretched slave." A voice snarled. "You're presence has been asked for by the oligarchs."

Flo started his day on the wrong side of the bed, that is, if he had one at all. He awoke to a rabid dog barking continuously at him, wondering why he was berated this early at dawn. "How old were you again, boy?" The person asked. Flo's head was still murky; however, he heard the question. Flo hesitated, but he answered. "Twelve seasons."

The person, giving away a slight excitement, wrinkled his nose like a form of habit, and Flo knew what it meant. His master was plotting something, and it wasn't something of least importance. "Hmmm." His master hummed, swinging the lantern he held in his hand back and forth. "Just barely of age."

"Make haste now lowly worm." He said as he opened Flo's cell, grabbing his shackles like a dog on a leash, and pulled him over. "It's almost high noon."

There was nothing for Flo to pack up, and so they left immediately. However, before they left the cell, his master's eyes glanced over to an empty metal cup and plate on the cold ground, giving it a look of suspicion, before ignoring it either way. Flo swore something was off about today, with something supposed to happen at around noon, but he couldn't put his little finger on it.

"Hurry on now." He said. "We are to depart for the castle immediately."

And so the resonating sound of footsteps and chains clattering took over as two soldiers, emblazoned with thick metal armor, joined the noble and slave, with steam gushing out every second or so from their magic armor as they marched in the dimly lit tunnel towards the surface of the outside world.

.

.

.

When the harsh sunlight of the surface greeted Flo's rugged face, he finally remembered a man who he met before and the promise the man said of freeing him from captivity. Flo then tried and struggled, trying to go back to his cell. The person might not have known he was to be summoned by the oligarchs, hence ruining their plan of escape.

"What is this?" His master asked. "Never been outside the tunnel and arena before? Turned you into a cowardly vampire?"

Flo struggled to no avail, as he was then dragged along by the soldiers, not having even a hundredth of the strength needed to escape their grasp.

"Look filth, do you not marvel at the scenery of this city?" His master said as he clutched the head of Flo, prying open his eyes and forcing him to see the buildings, factories, and mechanical contraptions the city offered as scenery.

It was ugly.

Ugly enough to make Flo vomit. Flo was a half-human; however, his other half, a dir within him, would find absolute disgust in the cities of the humans. Dirs were prevalent in forests and jungles, and found the stench of human and stout technology sickening.

Flo's hands and feet were then bound by shackles to keep him from resisting, and off they went, riding a clockwork-ish magic vehicle into the city proper.

It's too late now, Flo thought. His chance of escape ruined by this single unforeseen event. "Hey child, do you know why the officials summoned a dreg such as you?" His master said.

"It is because of that old man you fought." He said. "Something happened back there in the arena, am I correct?"

Flo was confused of the statement. The old man was acting strange back there, chanting a ritual of some sort in the middle of a gruesome fight. Moreover, the man didn't flinch when the blade sunk into his flank, almost as if the man didn't feel or even understand pain.

"Never do mind." He passed. "It will all end the same, with you dead, and my sentence pardoned."

Death. That one word shook Flo to his very core. He can't die here, not yet. He struggled and rampaged inside the car, almost to the brink of insanity. He was determined, deadly bent on escaping. "Now, now, stop struggling boy." The noble said.

"You're starting to look like your mother when she pleaded me for mercy."

With that one sentence, something inside Flo snapped. Even if he was dead either way, he knew he'd never rest in peace if this bastard didn't come along with him. His eyes grew bloody red, his horns erecting with rage, eager for the death of the wretched human. As he struggled, the shackles behind his hand suddenly came unbound, and as he was about to use this chance to drag him into the afterlife, a faint voice stopped him in his tracks. "If..."

The soldier left to him muttered quietly. "If ya want to take revenge, then do it lad. I do not understand your hatred, and so I do not have a right to stop ya."

Flo, hearing the voice like a familiar one, stopped in hesitation, still shaking with bloodlust. "However, if ya want to escape, stand down, and control that anger."

Flo was in conflict. It seemed as if that if he were not to bend his anger right here, right now, he'd never be able to face his parents and himself. He wanted the head of this demonic fiend, and that was all that mattered to him. However, he could not let his emotions get the better of him. A chance to escape like this could never again come. He unclenched his fists and withdrew his bloodlust.

"I understand." He said as he took the blade of the soldier from its sheath, and slit the neck of the noble.