"What a mess."

It had been about three days since the fight in the inn took place and completely ruined the insides of the building. Anton had been busy the past two days reattaching the legs on the bar stools and overall cleaning the bar area, as that just so happened to be his most favorite spot to sit during clean-up breaks and talk to the still somewhat devastated innkeeper. Though he felt like saying something more to the man than just 'sorry', he couldn't think of anything. All he felt he could do was fix and set up tables while nodding his head to anything the innkeeper said to him, two of those statements generally resembling "My life's work is ruined because of you," and "Of all the places you could have chosen to fight some psychopath wolf man, you just had to choose my inn."

By the middle of the fifth day, minutes felt painful and hours went on forever. Anton could no longer handle the sound of wood hitting the ground repeatedly every time he fixed and placed up a table or bench or bar stool. It was time to leave and scour the city. As he got up and went through the front door, the innkeeper threw him and asked, "Where the hell are you going? We're barely halfway done cleaning your mess!"

Sick of the slave-like treatment he felt he was being given, Anton replied, "I'm off to do something that should've been done the moment that girl stepped out of the door with her pet wolf." "Oh, really? Are you just going to walk out there, out of my now sh*tty excuse of an inn onto the streets and leave me with this mess that you made yourself?" The innkeeper replied, obvious hints of displease being shown by him. "No, dear sir. I'm going to get my f*cking jacket replaced." On that note, Anton angrily pushed the door open so hard that one of the shingles went loose and the door almost flew off. "Oh, my bad," He sarcastically apologized, staring the slightly shocked innkeeper down, "I'll just fix that too when I get back for the night." He stepped out of the inn, curved left, and started walking to where he remembered the location of store he got his clothing.

It was true, Anton's jacket had been unreplaced for the past few days he was helping put the inn back together. The cut that the crazed fallen male left across his chest healed completely, which made the jacket look as if its tear was the result of a game of tug-of-war turned messy, the jacket being the rope. It was bearable to wear at first, but the more Anton wore it, the more he pitied himself and his need to throw it away. Maybe if he was lucky, the lady with the brown apron that sold it to him earlier would have a spare jacket for sale.

Anton continued down until he was back in the more marketed area of the street. Looking left and right, he did his best to avoid bumping shoulders with any random people. The last thing he wanted was to do so and chase after a pickpocket or, if he was desperate, pickpocket the other fellow himself. Though he came from Purgatory as a Demigod did not necessarily mean he thrived off of the pain of others. After all, the pain of others was the reason he left in the first place.

While he searched for the store with the lady wearing the brown apron, Anton couldn't help but notice all the beautiful accessories the other stores had on display. At one moment, he even stopped and stared to his left for a chance to examine some earrings with an unusually piercing light brown color. The earrings were quite ornate too; there were beautifully crafted symbols inside translucent pearl-shaped gems that gave those earrings a strong visual appeal. Whatever those symbols meant, if anything at all, Anton wanted them.

Looking up to face a middle-aged man holding a cane topped with a large blood diamond, he asked, "Excuse me sir, how many green papers for that pair of earrings?" Confused by the way Anton phrased the question, the man laughed softly to himself. "A tourister, I see?" The man replied, holding his cane in his right hand and using his left hand to play with a medium length beard. Unsure what the word the man just used meant, Anton nodded his head with a hint of uncertainty. Laughing again, the man said, "My dear customer, these earrings will go for a total of two hundred 'green papers'." Anton, raising his left eyebrow to the middle-aged shopkeeper, started digging into his left pocket with his left hand for the lwallet asked, "Are you sure these earrings are worth two hundred in green paper value?" Without a breath, the man immediately responded, "I did not say 'in green paper value'. I legitimately meant 'in green papers'." Shaking his head in displeasure, Anton let go of the wallet in his pocket and said to the shopkeeper, "I'll be right back," before walking off to talk to another shopkeeper, then the next one, and then the one after that, and so on.

One half hour, a few stores and many green papers later, Anton returned to the middle-aged shopkeeper with a large stack of them, ignoring the looks of all the confused passersby when placing the stack on top of a table in front of the man. "I believe that's the two hundred 'green paper's you requested in exchange for those earrings," he explained, grabbing the light-brown earrings and placing them in one of his pants pockets, "Thank you and have a nice day, sir." While Anton turned and continued on his way, the dumbfounded shopkeeper looked at the stack of one-value green papers for a moment before violently pulling on his beard out of stupidity and yelling, "Wait! I think I might have forgotten the sales tax!"

Later laughing to himself five minutes later about how the man failed to scam him, Anton finally approached the store from which he bought his current set of clothes. Ringing the automatic bell by opening the store's entrance door, he walked in and observed his surroundings. The place was surprisingly empty, the only customer other than himself being a well-tailored gentleman with an uncommon aura. Though it was obvious to him that this other 'customer' was merely disguising himself as a gentleman, he decided it was best not to start quarrels. If he did, chances are that the next coat he'd buy would probably need to be replaced before even leaving the store. If anything, I'll probably run into this fellow in the future, He thought as he approached a desk with both a cash register and small, silver bell on top of it.

Anton rang the bell on top of the desk, roughly slamming the little top down with the palm of his left hand. About fifteen seconds later, the oh so familiar woman in the brown apron came out of a door and then a curtain in the back, shaking her head in disappointment. "Next time you ring the bell, use your damn finger," she ordered, noticing the torn coat he wore but not yet recognizing him by face, "And what the hell happened to your jacket? Did you get attacked by a rabid dog or something?" Sighing, Anton put the coat on the desk, consequently revealing his muscular build and cut across the chest, and replied, "If they have long claws and a strong desire to hurt strangers, then yeah." Already shaking her head again, the woman in the brown apron took the coat and said, "I really hope for your sake that you're not one of those weirdos that likes to go down on one knee and get licked all over the face. Whatever, though. I'll quickly get you a replacement, if that's what you want." When Anton nodded in response, she continued, "Good. It'll be ready in about three minutes. Just give me a moment." On that note, she left the room through the door from whence she came, leaving Anton alone in the store with the 'gentleman'. While he rested his left thumb on the desk and repeatedly tapped it with all other left fingers, Anton glanced over to the 'gentleman', who pretended to observe the same shirt since the lady walked in until he hung it back on its place, eyed some symbol on the leather wallet Anton just took out, and walked out. Shrugging the man off, Anton stayed in place until the lady finally came back with a new coat after what seemed like more than three minutes.

"Here you go, wierdo," She began, handing him the new coat and opening the cash register, "That should be about..." She stopped talking when she finally recognized Anton as the man that asked her about food and a place to sleep a couple days back. "Oh, I remember you now," she said, pulling a key out of a pocket in her brown apron and opening the cash register, "Since you've been here in the past week, I'll let you take that coat as a free replacement." Raising both eyebrows out of pleasant surprise, Anton hid the leather wallet in one of the coat's inside pockets, put on the coat, and said, "Thank you, miss... What is your name, by the way?" The brown apron lady placed her right hand on the desk and replied, "If you'd really want to know, I go by Kiele. And yourself?" Buttoning up the lower half of the coat, Anton said, "I am known by the name of Anton Corliano. Good day to you, miss." Taking out a green paper with a value of five from his pocket, he put it on the desk as a tip and walked out of the store, veering left to continue in the direction he walked from the inn.

Smiling to himself about his new coat, Anton proudly walked down in the middle of the street, his sheathed sword tapping the side of his right leg a couple of times. Ignoring the looks that random passersby gave him because of his weapon, he thought, Now to just kill some more time outside of that wretched inn and possibly find that damn fallen girl from earlier. Not even a moment after finishing that thought, he heard a scream come out from the around the next corner. Running towards it unlike the civilians that fled from the scene, Anton turned on the corner and instantly gripped his sword hilt with his left hand, observing the cause of the noise. There was a group of five finely tailored men armed with swords, one of which he recognized as the gentleman from the store. They were circling around a female figure whose clothes had been torn a bit. It looked to him like a public rape attempt. Right when he was about to unsheathe his weapon and end the gentlemens' lives, Anton heard the female in the middle yell out, "Get the f*ck off of me, you sick people!" By the sound of the voice, Anton instantly recognized the female as the fallen girl.

Damn it! I knew she wasn't going to go long without any trouble, He thought, contemplating what he was to do. Was he going to leave the b*tch and the five men alone, possibly resulting in her rape and death, or was he going to do the un-Demigodly thing and attempt to save her from the men? Trying to quickly choose what move he'd make, one of the men jumped at her, resulting in her screaming again. Gritting his teeth behind closed lips, Anton unsheathed his weapon and approached the group, thinking, I have a feeling I'll regret this later.