entitled lordship

Lord of Worms kisha, since the start of the age of the stars he ruled as the underground ruler of taizai, earning him the name of lord of worms.

While most people revere him for his ability to lord over all the underground network of taizai, they mostly fear him for his equally as tyrannical strength, Giving even more control and authority almost equal to the elders of the grand pavilion.

Leaving the cabin behind and storming away, the beastly boy arrived at some sort of well washing his body full of grease, almost as if unwashed for months, revealing his skin as smooth as silk, as white as the clouds, and vibrant as the sun, shedding tears while doing so.

The boy knew already that his master's life is not long, already reaching it's end, because no matter how much his master tried to hide it, his soul couldn't do the same, his master probably knowing that, wanting one last normal conversation with his disciple.

Thinking so the child weeped looking at the sky as dark as his sadness, stretching his hand and flashing a sad smile.

While readying himself the child resolved to do all he coul'd to return alive, continuing his phases till reaching sainthood, surpassing his master and returning to his place of birth, this time taking what's his.

And so the child marched to his place of destination, resolve in his eyes and strength in his legs, carrying himself with newfound dignity, walking to his place of destination.

3 days later...

The child reached a place of rest, an inn almost as good as a camp, seeking a small amount of sleep, refreshing his body and mind.

The boy entered the inn hearing barbarous laughter, the noise annoyingly entering his ears causing him a small amount of headache, looking around till he found an empty table, sitting and hearing the conversations ongoing in the middle.

"And so I said to him if you had the balls then do it..."

"What type of people enters a martial arts contest and give up on the first round..."

"Did you hear about the conflict between the lord of Worms and the poison Pavilion Elder?"

Hearing one of the conversations the boy perked his ears trying to peak at the much needed information.

"Yeah, I heard the lord of Worms took a liking to the daughter of the poison pavilion elder, sliced her hand when she rejected him and sending her into coma after severe beating!"

"Hey be quiet, you don't know who coul'd be listening, if one of the factions heard us, we'll be done for!"

"What are you talking about, Like there woul'd be somone so prestigious in this run down inn..."

In the middle of the conversation an employ interrupted him, asking him with manners as unrefined as the place...

"Sir, what woul'd you like to order?"

"Do you have steak?"

Hearing so the employee widened his eyes, looking at the boy in suspicion, saying..

"we do have a steak but it's one of the more pricey items in the menu, are you sure you woul'd like to order it?"

Hearing so the boy took out a bag of money from his sleeve, unnoticeable to anyone the slight altercations of space it created, everyone in the inn to attentive to the amount of money presented in the bag, speaking to one another.

"Do you think he's a child from one of the seven faction?"

"What woul'd somone like that do here?"

"But if he's not then he's an idiot who ask somone to steal his money"?

Hearing it the boy frowned, looking at the one who said it, and releasing a small amount of killing intent, making the one who received it sweat and fall from his chair causing the others to laugh.

The waiter, returning to his senses took only 15 Wilson out of the hundreds in boyd's bag, giving it back to him politely, immediately hurrying to the kitchen, frightened of the possibility he treated somone from the great faction as he did earlier, resolved to deliver the meal as politely as he could.

The boy settled on his seat putting the money bag back onto his sleeve, relaxing till he felt a familiar prescience outside immidiatly entering into alert, exiting the inn as fast and silent as lightning, running in the opposite direction of the prescene, unkown to him the resolve of the waiter he left behind.