Howling hyena

As Atticus walked through the town, the cacophony of shouts and haggling assaulting his ears. The air reeked of sweat, spices, and something vaguely metallic that sent a shiver down his spine. He scanned the crowd, his newfound demon tongue skill translating the rapid-fire exchanges around him. Half-bloods, demons, and even a few monstrous creatures with scales and razor-sharp claws bartered for everything from food to weapons.

A new sound, the rhythmic clinking of coins, caught his attention. Unlike the spirit stones he was accustomed to, these were a deep, blood-red color, pulsing with an almost imperceptible energy. His internal system, Rhea, helpfully informed him they were called 'blood stones' – a currency fueled by demonic qi and life force.

Concern filled him with this new plight. He had no such currency, and without it, even a simple stay at an inn seemed out of reach. He needed a way to earn some, and fast.

His gaze fell upon a weathered tavern nestled in a corner, its
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