I walked through the streets, absently rubbing the persistent ache in the nape of my neck. People dressed in rags glared at me, but I felt nothing as I passed them by.
In this place, kindness is a liability. Those who look easy are devoured instantly, while the strong climb to the top to reign as kings of the gutter. Living in such a place had certainly warped my personality a bit.
Upon reaching a secluded, empty lot away from prying eyes, I sat down and closed my eyes. I could feel the texture of the parched earth beneath my legs. I focused my mind, channeling my will.
Even in the darkness behind my eyelids, I could subconsciously feel something floating around me. An energy like a warm light.
Feeling the stone—no, the Originium—in my pocket grow warm, I concentrated further. What had started as a simple meditation exercise out of boredom had led to this result, a series of coincidences piling upon one another.
After some time, I gathered my thoughts and opened my eyes. The Originium in my pocket had already vanished.
"Sigh, if I had sold that, I could have at least had something decent for dinner tonight."
I let out a sigh and looked into the distance. Even a "delicious meal" here was just meat soup with a few scraps of gristle, but it was still better than rummaging through trash for leftovers.
I pulled out a wooden sword I had hidden in a corner of the lot. It was far too well-crafted to be called a mere wooden sword, thanks to a skilled blacksmith in these backalleys.
Grip the sword, take the stance, and focus on the tip.
It's not about overwhelming force. A sword is a blade meant for cutting. I swung the wooden sword, slicing through the air as if carving through the grain of meat. Not just with the strength of my arms, but from my planted feet, through my torso, to my hands.
As the power traveled up from my feet—rooted like a tree—and through the sword, a sharp whistle cut the air.
I didn't know if my swordsmanship was actually improving. I had no proper master, and this wasn't even a real blade. But I was putting in every ounce of effort I could. Even if it was just some half-baked advice from a flashy mercenary, I wanted to dismantle that advice in my mind and forge it into something real.
"Yujin."
At the sound of a voice behind me, I stopped my training and turned around. A boy about my stature was watching me.
"Theresis."
"I'm sorry to interrupt your focus. But there is work..."
"What?"
I wiped the sweat from my brow with my sleeve and listened intently to what Theresis had to say.
"...Right. So that piece of filth finally crossed the line."
I didn't know what kind of expression I was making. But considering Theresis took a half-step back, it probably wasn't a pleasant one.
"Are you going now?"
"I have to. Before things get out of hand."
I was simply doing the one thing I could in this hellhole.
Theresis stood staring at the spot where Yujin had been, idly kicking the ground.
Yujin was the leader of the group they operated in. After Yujin took down the adults who used to beat the children and extort their money, they had tacitly accepted him as their leader.
They were children who held nothing but painful memories and scars. Theresis and his sister had tried their best to protect the others, but when their strength failed and they were forced to watch helplessly...
A nameless boy appeared like a flash of gold and cut down the adult who exploited them.
'Damn bastard. Using me for this crap and not even paying?'
Cursing, the boy had cut the man down without hesitation. The adult stumbled and tried to react, but the second strike severed his throat. Thus, the evil that had tormented them for years met a miserable end.
Naturally, with nowhere to go, they followed the boy. At first, he barked orders and cursed at them, but by now, they treated each other like family.
Yujin was different from the others. Even among children here, betraying a friend and stabbing them in the back was everyday life. Yet Yujin shared what he earned with his own strength with the weak. He said it was simply the right thing to do.
Back in the present, the ground where Yujin had just swung his sword was scorched and fused, as if the earth itself had been sliced and melted by something.
A talent for combat that refused to accept a single defeat. Remembering that this was how people described Yujin, Theresis stared at the melted ground.
In a tavern frequented by vagrants, someone pounded on the door with an irritating thud, eventually forcing someone from inside to come out.
"Dammit, who the hell is it!"
"Me, you bastard."
Boom. The giant man who opened the door was sent flying. He crashed into a table inside the tavern, shattering it as cheap booze sprayed everywhere.
Approximately twelve. Yujin's eyes quickly scanned his opponents, mapping out the interior. On a somewhat luxurious sofa, the owner of the tavern sat with his legs crossed arrogantly. As the others began to creep closer, Yujin raised his hand.
"Starting now, anyone who moves besides that guy loses their head."
Like magic, everyone froze. They knew that whoever tried to ambush him first would likely be the first to die. Yujin trudged forward, pulled up a chair, and sat across from the man.
"What brings you all the way here?"
The man on the sofa lit a cigarette and looked at Yujin. Yujin looked back, unimpressed.
"I told you to be moderate in your greed."
"About what?"
"That's a damn nice sofa. I'll have to tell the kids to come pick it up for my room later."
As the conversation went nowhere, the man scowled. Near the entrance Yujin had used, the sound of someone locking the door echoed.
"Ah, what was your name? Theresis told me..."
"Hmph. It's Tur. You come all this way without even knowing my name?"
Tur clicked his tongue, looking at the arrogant boy. If it were anyone else, he would have lunged forward to slit his throat and sell his organs, but because of who he was facing, he held back.
Then, Yujin spoke with a chilling smile.
"If you're going to do it, at least do it quietly so it doesn't reach my ears. You're kidnapping kids to sell their organs now?"
Tur had tried to handle it quietly, but news had already reached Yujin. Tur laughed, swirling the drink in his hand.
"There's an easy path and a hard path. Why walk the hard one? Doing that pays much better than running a dump like this."
"Is that so?"
Yujin scratched his head. Tur considered provoking him further, but he didn't want to make an enemy of the boy just yet. He'd rather bring him over as an ally.
"Why don't you join us? If we keep this up, we can leave this place and head to another country—"
"Enough. I've heard enough."
Dialogue was over. Yujin reached out his hand toward Tur.
"As I thought, there's no need to remember the name of a man who's about to die."
Immediately after those words, the table between them went airborne.
The sudden shift in the atmosphere caused Tur's subordinates to draw their blades. Tur, drenched in the spilled alcohol, snapped his fingers, and men appeared from the shadows to surround Yujin.
"Do you have the confidence to spit out everything you've swallowed?"
"If you die here, I won't have to."
Exhaling a slow breath, Yujin's eyes flared with a golden light.
"You failures who couldn't even make it as mercenaries... just die."
At his words, blades flew in from all sides. Yujin lightly stepped onto the overturned table, leapt into the air, and swung his sword.
A flash of light accompanied a sickening cutting sound. One of Tur's men screamed.
"Aaargh!!"
Blood sprayed from a severed arm, staining the surroundings. Regardless, Yujin immediately delivered a kick to the solar plexus of another charging thug.
"Gah!"
With the sound of air being knocked out of him, the man collapsed. Like the first, one of his limbs was cleanly severed.
"Tch, killing is easier."
Glancing at his blood-stained sword, Yujin muttered.
"Get him! Surround him! We have the numbers!"
"Hmph!"
"Die!"
Tur's subordinates rushed Yujin. But Yujin ignored them all, his gaze fixed on only one man.
"If you try to run, you know what happens."
The mad dog bared its teeth at Tur.