Beggar King's Bloody Fall
After my nameless mother, who gave birth to me as a young beggar, died in the winter, I wandered the city aimlessly until my hands and feet froze solid. I was curling up to meet my end when Ian, the beggar king here, took me in—and that's how I've survived to this day.
Honestly, I hated getting beaten, but I wasn't ungrateful to the beggar king who'd saved my life back then.
But now I've lost all affection for him... A 6-year-old kid works his ass off scavenging, and he snatches it all to stuff his face alone!
Clunk!
"Beggar King! Beggar King! Big trouble—those temple district bastards crossed into our turf!"
"What?! Why the fuck would those pricks?!"
Me and the other scared little beggar kids, nursing our recent beatings and huddled quietly in the corner to avoid his wrath, froze as his pickpocketing goons burst into the beggar village. They were carrying two bloodied bodies slung over their shoulders.
"D-Don't know! They crossed into our turf and stomped Phillip and Nero flat!"
Thud!
"Those motherfucking dogs! We agreed not to encroach on each other's turf, and they stab us in the back?!"
"Wh-What do we do?"
"What do you mean 'what'? You idiots! Round up the kids! Since it's come to this, we're taking over the temple district! Tell 'em to grab their weapons!"
"Got it!"
Pat pat pat!
If they're heading out anyway, I hope they all get killed in the fight!
Beggar gang brawls were something of a spectacle in this port city. The human world was all the same everywhere—fights and fires were just entertaining shows for people to gawk at, right?
Even the lord ruling this port city probably wouldn't mind if some beggars died off in a scrap; it'd clean up the streets. No guards would bother with beggar fights.
I stayed put, quietly praying that Ian and his cronies would all croak as they geared up outside...
"Hey! What the hell are you brats doing?!"
"Huh?"
"Drag all the little shits along too!"
This psycho?! I'm only 6!
Ian glared at us huddled kids in the corner like his eyes were shooting fire, now trying to drag us into the brawl—including me and kids not even 10!
"Beggar King, why the kids? What good are they?"
"They're useless freeloaders anyway! Least they can do is act as meat shields and earn their keep!"
That son of a bitch!
And so Ian rounded up every last one of us kids. Total beggar village population, kids included: 27. But the temple district crew occupying their turf numbered over 30 by a rough count. Even their youngest looked about 14. We were outmatched in size and numbers.
Worse, their beggar king—Libert, was it?—was around Ian's age but a head taller, with muscles bulging all over his limbs. No mere beggar; he'd clearly thrown some punches before.
"Libert! You fucking dog—stabbing us in the back?!"
"Pfft! Backstab? You trust beggar pacts? We're both trash rolling in the dump—why act like knights with your honor bullshit?"
"I'll kill you, you fucker!—"
Our beggar king charged first. That kicked it off—his goons shoved us kids ahead as cannon fodder, and the beggar melee erupted.
Of course, we got used as meat shields. Some died from blows, others ended up crippled with broken limbs.
I played it off with my beaten-up body from yesterday—shaking like a leaf with my scrawny frame in a performance worthy of a miracle, tripping face-first before even charging. Was I nuts enough to jump into that mess?
Face-planting into the dirt gave me a little cut on the head, but hey, the enemy beggars ignored me now. Total win!
Should've aimed for extra or actor in my past life! Who knows? Might've blown up as a celeb.
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
"Aaaagh!"
Crack!
"Uwaaaagh!"
Snap, crackle, pop—bones breaking and screams echoing everywhere.
No one on their side wasted effort on a downed scrawny 6-year-old, so attacks zeroed in on Ian and his close crew. But their bulk and numbers wore us down; we were losing bad.
Even the king-vs-king duel showed the skill and size gap. Ian couldn't land a hit on Libert before getting pulverized—nose smashed, teeth flying like corn kernels, total beatdown. Then he got grabbed by the collar.
The kids under 10, dragged as meat shields, went down after a few kicks. Ian's goons got hammered by Libert's crew—some dropped dead on the spot.
Thud thud thud thud!
"Gueeeek!"
"You retard! Know why I'm finally giving you this beatdown?"
"Guhk... Sp-Spare..."
"Shut up and listen, fucker! Our bosses said it. Remember that night you ate at the restaurant with the kids' begging cash? Spitting phlegm out front?"
"Wh-Wha..."
"That evening you pigs ate there with the money you squeezed from the brats! On your way out, you hocked that loogie. Dekilaz bosses were heading there for dinner and saw it—ruined their appetite. Said some filthy bum spitting in front made the food taste like shit."
Twitch!
"Get it now? You pissed off the big boys, so they greenlit me taking your turf."
Ah—that night we kids begged, pooled the cash, and he went off to eat alone... Selfish prick.
But who knew that meal with our money would be his last supper? Probably felt rich enough for a proper feed after ages, but his nasty habit of hawking loogies anywhere... Right as crime org heavies headed for dinner? Of course they'd be pissed—a filthy beggar spitting right there?
Even I'd grimace. With beggars multiplying in the city, time to cull the herd. Probably using Libert to clean the alleys—no need to dirty their own hands. Let the trash fight it out.
"Pleeease... For-Forgive..."
"Fuck off!—"
Stab!
"Guhk!"
Ignoring Ian's desperate pleas, Libert whipped out a knife and plunged it into his gut. He didn't stop—twisted it like gutting a fish and yanked it free. Blood gushed like a waterfall from our beggar king's belly. Ian slumped cold and dead on the street.
"Boss, we handled 'em!"
"Ooh, nice work."
"But uh, what about those kids over there?"
"Hmm, the kids? Oh, those brats he bossed around?"
"They're all little ones. What do we do with 'em?"
The thug's words made him glance at us—me and the other kids groaning on the ground, still breathing. He pondered, flashed a sleazy grin, and sentenced us to worse than death.
"Too much hassle to kill 'em all... Wait, some have decent faces? Hey boys! Haul 'em to Madam for the slave market! A few look pretty enough. Raise 'em right, they could make fine sex slaves. Plus, I hear some high-ups fancy cute boys lately. Wash off the grime and scabs. Take 'em to the river outside town."
"Can't we just sell 'em as-is?"
"You dumbass! Who buys dirty goods? Clean ones fetch more! Gotta put in the work!"
These evil fucks! From beggar to sex slave?!
"Yessir~ We'll make 'em sparkle!"
"Seized the turf, extra payday—lucky day! Boys, drinks on me! Scrub those brats good!"
"""Woooooo!!!"""
You motherfuuuuckers! Just kill meeeee!!! Kiiiill meeeee!!!
Just two days after regaining my past-life memories, I got dragged into a beggar brawl as meat fodder. And because my face looked "decent," me and the other kids were sold off as slaves.
My future? Endless hell as a slave unless I lucked into a good master.
They slung our limp bodies over shoulders, dumped us in the river, and scrubbed our faces and skin raw with rough rags to scour off the filth. It hurt like hell.
This a bath?! Just sandpaper us already!!