Before he could react, the large rock in front of him exploded into fragments, and he was sent flying into the air by the force, only to crash down harshly on the ground, his body in utter disarray.
The Bone Wing Demon laughed a few times; Pulapa’s wretched state seemed to please it. It did not strike again but left behind the word “riffraff” before flying into Lassudral.
Pulapa trembled all over, his eyes filled with anger, sorrow, and self-doubt.
In the lawless Demon City, as long as one didn’t disrupt the overt order, no one would say a thing even if the Bone Wing Demon had killed him.
Pulapa licked his wounds in solitude; after a long time, he slowly got up and limped into Lassudral.
His mother had once told him that to become strong, one must endure setbacks, a necessary process of growth.
Although he knew these were just comforting phrases, what else could he do now besides convincing himself?
…
The structure of Lassudral was quite different from the cities of the indigenous people. Here, even the shortest building door was over three meters high. With doors so tall, the buildings themselves were massive, as if one had entered a city of giants.
Despite the large buildings, most of the demons walking on the streets were roughly the same size as Pulapa. These huge doors were not really meant for them but for creatures like the earlier Bone Wing Demon or other high-ranking great demons.
Oftentimes, one could gauge the clientele of a shop simply by the size of its doors.
Take, for example, the giant fortress visible from miles away here. It was actually a shop, but its scale was such that even giants could be accommodated—belonging to the highest tier of shops.
Or, for instance, to Pulapa’s right.
Hidden among the trees, there was a small, low wooden hut. Ignoring its position on the very outskirts of Lassudral, just its two-meter-tall door showed that its clientele was probably on the lower end.
Truthfully, even Pulapa felt that a two-meter door was too short; he just needed to stand on tiptoes to bump his head.
Moreover, the eaves of the cabin appeared low, making it seem like it would be so cramped inside that breathing would be difficult.
Had there not been a shop sign above the door, Pulapa wouldn’t have believed it was a store.
“Eh?” Suddenly, confusion flickered in Pulapa’s eyes, “When was this little wooden hut set up here? When I left the day before yesterday, this spot seemed to be an empty lot.”
Could it have been established in the last two days?
Pulapa looked at the shop’s sign with suspicion, which was written in a terrible font in Demon Language.
Illusion.
It didn’t sound like a respectable shop at all.
Pulapa continued walking and arrived at the place where he usually worked, a Hunting Museum owned by a Half-Blood Demon.
The door was four meters high, considered a normal size among the shops of Lassudral.
His job was actually very simple: to clean the prey that the owner hunted.
Pulapa could work here partly because the Eerie Water he released had the effect of “preserving freshness and enhancing taste,” but mostly because of the owner’s pity.
Speaking of which, the owner seemed to possess a powerful fire Demon Bloodline. When Pulapa first saw the owner, he was somewhat afraid due to the natural elemental counter.
Who would have thought that he would be able to continue living in Lassudral, thanks to the seemingly fierce but kind-hearted owner?
“You’re here? Today’s prey has been placed in the storage behind the Exhibition Room. After cleaning, remember to display them,” said a large, fiery-haired man with an imposing set of abs and a fierce face.
He was the owner of the Hunting Museum, Night.