The tavern tensed with the presence of that man. Even the bartender swallowed dryly.
Gabriel remained in his original position, observing the opaque and rustic color of his beer in a wooden mug. Surprisingly, he had enjoyed it.
He cleaned the tips of his lips with his tongue. Seeing how a robust and long shadow imposed itself over him.
"It is a pleasure to finally et you," he said, looking at him directly.
Gabriel felt a heavy hand rest on his shoulder and squeeze gently. He made no move to stop it.
An unpleasant crack sounded from his bone.
"Why do you cause unnecessary problems?" asked a charismatic and deep voice.
Gabriel took a deep breath, without flinching. His words were blunt and without manners.
"Why are they unnecessary?"
The man let out a low laugh and sat on the adjacent stool. He gestured to the bartender.
"Erick, bring two beers."
At that instant, the tavern ca back to life. Conversations returned, although lower and more cautious. The gazes remained fixed on them, but no one dared to intervene.
"Don’t be afraid to accept my beer. I could kill you right now if I wanted to," he murmured, leaning slightly.
Gabriel took the mug he was served and lifted his mask slightly to take a sip without impatience. He knew it was not an empty threat.
"I am not your enemy. I want information... About The Despots," he said directly.
His words fell like a pin in a monastery.
The man observed him for a second and then burst into laughter. He held his stomach, laughing heartily.
"I have never heard a man seek death with such vehence!"
"Without a doubt, without a doubt, you are unique in your kind!"
The laughter spread through several tables. So pounded the wood with their fists, amused at the masked man’s suicidal spirit.
Gabriel remained calm, drinking his beer with indifference.
When he cald down, wiping a tear from his eye, he spoke in a more serious tone.
"If you want to die, I can tell you. There is nothing I am less interested in than your fate or what you want to do."
Gabriel took it as confirmation.
"I have already accepted death a long ti ago."
The man finished his beer in one gulp and reflected for a few seconds.
"This kind of information would not be paid for with a beer, but I will tell you..."
"Go to the dump in the North, the Bérsaic dump. There all kinds of outcasts hide among the outcasts. And the Despots... are dying n who refuse to die."
Gabriel pondered every word. He finished his drink in a matter of seconds, leaving the mug on the bar, and stood up.
He released a shiny silver fragnt, which spun on the bar and finally trembled in front of Erick.
When he was already heading to the exit, the charismatic voice stopped him.
"Young friend, I am known as Charles. And you? What na do you want on your tombstone?"
Gabriel responded directly without hesitation:
"Jester."
Only laughter could be heard behind him. Charles was soone extrely funny or dangerous.
***
It did not take him long to discover what the Bérsaic dump really was.
An imnse landfill where even the vilest criminals avoided entering. A legal void within Bersáic where the law simply did not exist.
The perfect place for those known as The Despots.
Upon crossing through a hidden entrance to the dump, the stench hit him like a piece of rotting at.
Mountains of garbage accumulated in small mounds, with remains of rotten food, useless furniture and unknown objects that remained forgotten.
Although he tried to see soone, there was not a soul in sight.
It was in that place and mont that his attention expanded to the maximum.
He moved carefully, avoiding the sites where he could be discovered.
His figure blended with the dirty, neglected and gloomy outline.
Soon he ca across grotesque scenes.
Rotting at hanging from improvised hooks, organic remains in an advanced state of decomposition and human degeneration in every corner.
The ground was wet and sticky under his boots.
Soon he visualized a place that rekindled his hope. It differed from the rest of the dump, maintaining a certain order.
He advanced to the small abandoned barracks in the center of the landfill. The walls were covered in mold and marks of old fires.
He entered silently through a poorly closed window. Soon he discovered that chaos reigned inside.
Overturned furniture, scattered papers and more garbage accumulated in the corners. But there were clear signs of human presence.
With a half-consud candle and footprints in the dust. Gabriel beca even more vigilant.
He searched every corner thodically. His hands checked broken drawers and wobbly shelves.
He tried to make his efforts inaudible. Maintaining superhuman control over every muscle.
Until his fingers found sothing hidden under a pile of dirty rags. It was carefully concealed behind a piece of furniture.
It was a small notebook with worn leather.
It was his first clue up to that mont. He opened it carefully and read the title it received on its first page:
The Ancient Knowledge, Alchemists of God.
His heart beat strongly.
For the first ti the clues connected and opened an even more imnse and mysterious scenario. His trembling fingers slowly turned the pages, ticulously reviewing every detail.
He even read new details about the blood crystals. Everything was part of an even bigger sche.
But his excitent was quickly extinguished. The silent environnt suddenly turned into a confluence of voices.
He imdiately tensed and beca vigilant again, like a soldier’s spear.
He closed the notebook and stored it inside his overcoat. He looked around once more, feeling that those voices ca from very close.
The Despots were nearby.
According to Charles, they were n who refused to die.
Although he pretended to understand it, he had no idea... But he would probably discover it soon.
He was prepared, because every conflict he entered began with curiosity.
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