Discover the one-of-a-kind butcher shop run by Bill Sewagada, who has honed his craft and passion for butchering from a young age. The meats available at Bill's are ethically sourced, ensuring that every cut is of the finest quality. However, caution is advised when dining on the meats from Purple Bill's. And, for your own safety, it is highly recommended not to inquire about Bill's unique purple skin, destroy his property, or to enter unannounced. Come and explore the unusual, but delicious offerings at Bill's butcher shop! You can find it on 1168 Hombers Rd, past the street market on Strofil South!

~ A listing for Bill's Butcher Shop in a travel guide, date unknown

Bentham trudged through the rain, wondering how he'd break the news to the others about Damien's decision. He stuck to the sides of the street, hoping that the rooftops would give him some sort of reprieve from the rain. It was beginning to intensify and the boy's shirt was completely soaked as a result.

'Sheila's gonna start crying. I just know it.'

He could already imagine her sniffling and holing herself away in a corner. The girl was quiet and introverted, but it didn't mean she didn't have feelings. The boy sighed and looked up to see a pair of men going the opposite route. Out of habit, Bentham moved to the other side while keeping a subtle eye on the duo. He raised his guard upon seeing the pure-black symbol of the Twilight Bandits on one of the men's robes.

Glancing at the figure next to the gangster, he realized it wasn't a regular human. An elongated, snout-like face poked out under the hood. A bloodhound. Bentham had only seen them a handful of times in his life.

For a brief moment, Bentham made eye contact with the demi-human. Yellow, slitted eyes stared at him for a moment and the orphan felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. The bloodhound spoke, but whatever he said was drowned out by the rain. The orphan knew it was time to go.

He quickened his pace, going from a brisk walk to a full sprint. Bentham knew more than anything to trust his gut. It had kept him alive up until this point, and he wouldn't ignore it in a situation like this.

Shooting a glance behind him, Bentham saw the two pause and watch him move. It was eerie, seeing a pair of hooded figures stare at him silently in the midst of heavy rainfall. A cold chill ran down his spine when he saw the cold, dark eyes of the man beside the bloodhound. Enforcer Oliver, the most tempermental amongst the Twilight Bandit executives, who also happened to be looking for Damien.

"Shitballs."

He ran even faster, turning into the alleys and taking a non-linear route back to Strofil South. His ragged shoes splashed mud and dirt with every step. Recognizing the area he was in, he moved smoothly between obstacles and into hidden turns that would've had another person reeling from whiplash.

'Even if they chased after me, they wouldn't be able to catch up. Only a kid could fit through these places.'

The boy knew that in Strofil South, there was nobody beside them that knew the backstreets and alleyways better than he and Alvis. It was their home and battleground. It wouldn't be easy to catch them on their home turf.

Your steps falter. -15% to movement speed.

"What the hell?"

Bentham could feel his steps get heavier and nearly fell. An unpleasant sensation weighed down on every inch of his body. He couldn't recall the last time something like this occurred to him. He was rarely the target of spells and skills, but he immediately concluded it was the work of the two men.

'But I should be out of range! Did they lay some sort of trap?'

The boy continued, deciding to circle around further. He escaped into a more crowded street, making sure to keep an eye on everybody he passed. Bentham could feel his movement being affected still, and he was forced to assume that the effects were time-based.

Most people avoided him, but he could feel goosebumps rising on his skin as certain figures from the crowd looked at him with nefarious intentions. He gave them a nasty glare, knowing that any sign of weakness he showed in the streets would result in even more trouble. A hand grabbed his shoulder firmly, and Bentham, already hyper-vigilant, reacted instantly.

In one smooth motion, he drew his dagger from the waistband of his shorts and swung behind him. His wrist was caught and the boy's eyes shook upon seeing the same, hooded figure from before. The bloodhound, with his piercing yellow eyes, held the orphan down with little effort.

"Dinna fash yerself, laddie. Ye'll be makin' things worser for ye if ye dinna comply." The demi-human's thick accent made it hard for the boy to understand what he was saying. Bentham struggled in his grip. It was firm, not painful but more than enough to prevent his escape. Bentham looked around for help, but was only met with strangers whom avoided all eye contact with him. Nobody he knew would come to his rescue.

"..Fuck, where are you taking me?"

"Listen well, ye little whelp. Ye'll be answerin' some questions fer us, an' then ye'll be free t' go, got it?"

"Alright, alright. As long as you let me-" Before he finished his sentence, Bentham jerked violently and twisted his wrists. The bloodhound, even with their superior strength and speed, couldn't maintain his grip and let go. It was a practiced move, one the orphan learned in order to escape from tight holds. Heart thudding out of his chest, he ran as fast as his legs could take him.

"Catch me if you can, asshole!"

In the distance, a figure stood in Bentham's way. It was the same person he had seen walking with the bloodhound. His wide smile was on full display, showing off their golden incisor glinting in the darkness.

'Enforcer Wood! Shit!'

Bentham felt a chill down his spine as blades fell from the man's sleeves and into his hands, making the orphan veer away immediately and dart off to the left. Dropping low and using his hand as a pivot, he ran at break-neck speeds towards the nearest alley.

But it was for naught. Every step the Twilight Bandit took was the equivalent of five strides. Just as the armed individual readied to swing his blade with glee on his face, Bentham threw an orb from his pockets.

The man batted it away carelessly, but almost immediately, the item shattered in a bright flash of light and released a green cloud of gas.

It was the same orb that had been used to capture Alvis and his group. They returned to the place and ransacked it for all it was worth, gathering some unique items they couldn't observe. Although through numerous experiments, they were able to confirm the orb had some sort of tracker and kept it away from their base of operations. They also knew it expelled a sleeping gas potent enough to knock a full-grown man out for an hour.

'Thank fuck I brought one with me!'

Bentham ran off without looking back, knowing it would only buy him a few seconds of time. He held his breath while getting out of the radius of the gas, watching as people in his peripheral vision stumbled and passed out. Seeing where he was, he ran to a non-descript butcher shop, slowing down to a halt.

BILL'S BUTCHER SHOP

As the crowded street thinned out, Bentham caught the sight of the blade-wielding gangster running towards him with a firmly closed mouth and pinched nose. The bloodhound seemed to have gotten a whiff, not too far from where the ball broke. He looked sick, although not unconscious. The orphan assumed they had a stronger constitution and withstood the effects of the gas better than the civilians.

Even with the gangster rapidly approaching, Bentham didn't hasten his movement. He slipped into the butcher house quietly, as silent as a mouse. The pungent smell of bad meat, similar to spoiled milk, entered the boy's nostrils. Walking past rows upon rows of discolored cuts of different animals, all of which were clumsily labeled. Despite barely paying attention, Betham spotted labels such as 'unicorn ribs' and 'minotaur brisket' on top of marbled, purple flesh with sharp, angular bones. Others were pulsing and squirming, despite having labels that stated they were 'one-hundred percent dead'.

The sound of a knife making contact with a chopping board filled his ears, and Bentham used the rhythmic noise to time his steps. The door burst into splinters as the gangster caught up, brandishing his blades in a fearsome manner.

"Kiddo, where are you~? I just want to talk. It'll be quick." Oliver said in a falsetto voice. His back was hunched, and his eyes were cold as he analyzed every surface of the building. He looked towards an innocuous countertop with various meats on display, smirking as he detected a small presence. There was a larger one in the building, but he knew it wasn't his target.

Bentham tried to slow his heartbeat, waiting with bated breath as the enforcer's footsteps neared his hiding spot.

Oliver frowned upon feeling the ground shake. He realized the mana signature in the building was closing in on his location rapidly and he turned to where it was coming from.

A muscle-bound freak with violet skin barrelled into the main room of the butcher shop, wearing a beaten-down apron that outlined his rotund belly. His head grazed the top of the ceiling, and his arms were the size of tree trunks. In his hand, he clutched a butcher's knife. Purple Bill was zoned in on the human who dared to trespass on his property.

"YOU! INTRUDER!" His squarish head, coupled with his tiny horns and inhuman skin color were clear signs of Bill's inhuman heritage. Oliver suspected he was a demonic fiend, but had never heard of one being purple. "I KILL!"

"Hey, big guy." Despite being a man of considerable power, Oliver wasn't fully recovered from his battle with Damien. He took a small glance at the formerly-broken leg, knowing he wasn't in peak condition. "Let's-let's talk this out, yeah? I'm looking for a kid, and-"

Bentham poked his head out and snuck around quietly, encircling the purple figure who stared down Oliver. He made brief eye contact with the enforcer before bolting for the door behind Bill as soon as he did so.

The shaggy-haired man threw a dagger before the orphan could escape. It pierced through the glass displays and caused shards to fly out. Bentham cried out in pain as it nicked him in the shoulder, causing blood to seep through his already-drenched shirt.

"HA!" Oliver cackled, taking a step forward to catch the shifty boy once and for all. But the infuriated expression on Purple Bill's face stopped him in his tracks. "Oh."

"You..." The butcher's neck veins popped out, and his body began to tremble. Even with how dimly lit the area was, the enforcer could clearly see the man growing even larger than before. The transformation ended with him crouched over, with the apron coming off to reveal various cuts and scars along his belly; some of them looked like they were caused by fighting beasts.

His arms, which had grown even thicker, were raised high up in the air. Bill's demonic visage came down on the enforcer with little hesitation.

"DIE!"

Bentham ducked his head, hearing a thundering crash occur behind him as he escaped through the back door. Slowed by his injury and rising fatigue, the boy looked for home in desperation.