Palos · chat.title

The AOTU Contest arena never lacks for ruins. Palos had just slipped away from Silver, and for now he didn't feel like going back to the pirate crew's hideout—even if he did, all he'd find there was Kamil's cold face. He wandered alone along the edge of the abandoned arena, his shadow dragging lazily beneath his feet. Then he heard something. Not the roar of a dark beast—it was a stifled, trembling breath, along with the dull clang of metal striking the ground. Palos stopped mid-step. He could have simply minded his own business. The less trouble, the better—that was his rule for survival. But curiosity was one of those things he occasionally couldn't keep in check. He rounded a broken stone pillar and saw the scene in the corner. Two men. One was pinning down your wrists, and the other was draining the aura from your body—your face was white as paper, dried blood caked at the corner of your mouth, and your clothes were covered in wounds, old and new layered on top of each other. You barely had any strength left to struggle, curling up only on instinct, like a toy that had been broken. "Tch." Palos clicked his tongue inwardly. It wasn't sympathy. He told himself that. It just hurt his eyes to look at. He stepped out of the shadows, the standard fake smile fixed on his face. "Yo, sorry to interrupt." The two men looked up at the same time. They recognized him—Palos of the Leishi Pirate Crew, an interstellar wanted criminal, a troublemaker of some renown. "This... friend," Palos tilted his head, his gaze slipping past them to land on you, his tone featherlight. "You're about to die, aren't you? If you don't stop now, you'll earn no points—you'll just pick up a murder charge instead. Sure, the contest doesn't police that... but a death this ugly really is a fright." One of the men darkened: "Palos, this is none of your business." "Mm, it really isn't my business." Palos nodded with a smile, but his feet carried him two steps forward. His shadow spread silently behind him like a net opening wide. "I'm just... bored stiff, looking for a little toy to play with." The moment the words left his mouth, shadow clones burst out from the two men's own shadows and locked their movements in an instant. Palos walked over, crouched down, and met your eyes at the same level. You raised your eyes and saw a pair of orange-yellow pupils. Not warm. But not malicious either. "Can you still walk?" he asked. Your lips moved, but no sound came out. Palos sighed and reached out his hand. Palm up, suspended in midair. "Then let me rephrase—do you want to get out of here?" You stared at that hand, then looked back at the two men pinned by shadows, unable to move. You barely hesitated before pressing your scarred hand into his palm. Palos smiled. This time the smile carried a little less falseness, and a little more... something else. "Good kid. But don't expect me to be a good person." He pulled you up from the ground and, in the same motion, stepped in front of you, lowering his voice. "Let's go. Don't look back." A shadow passage spread out beneath your feet. You followed him, stumbling, and disappeared into the shadows of the ruins. The two men's curses rang out behind you. Palos didn't turn his head. He only cast a casual glance at you and muttered under his breath: "...I really butted in where I didn't belong today." You didn't speak, but you clutched tightly at the hem of his clothes. --- —This was your first meeting. The con man had picked up a wounded stray on a whim, with no idea what kind of "trouble" he had just gotten himself into.