Kevin Adams awoke to the dim morning light filtering through his window, the remnants of last night's reflections still lingering in his mind. The crimson moon had long since faded, replaced by the dull, overcast sky of Backlund. He sat up, stretching his arms before rubbing his temples. The weight of his reincarnation and the knowledge of the world he now inhabited pressed upon him, but he pushed those thoughts aside. He had work to do.
After a quick wash, he donned his modest gray suit, adjusting his tie as he glanced at his reflection. The man staring back at him was unfamiliar, yet had become his new reality. His sharp features, dark hair, and piercing blue eyes carried the weight of secrets even he was still unraveling. He grabbed his pocket watch, checked the time, and made his way to the small dining area.
Breakfast was a simple affair—bread, butter, and a lukewarm cup of coffee. Such a meal was the new norm for him. Though simple, in the current economy of the kingdom, such a meal per week cost around a pound due to the rarity of ingredients. Kevin ate mechanically, his mind already running through the tasks of the day. As a new employee at an accounting firm, he was expected to deal with the financial records of various clients—a position that provided him with both stability and access to information that could prove useful. Information, after all, was power in this world of shadows and secrets.
Stepping outside, the streets of Backlund were as lively as ever, a stark contrast to the looming pollution that darkened the skies. Carriages rolled by, their wheels clattering against cobblestone streets, while pedestrians bustled about, hurrying to their destinations. The air carried the scent of coal smoke and damp earth, a familiar yet unwelcome companion to the inhabitants of the city.
As Kevin navigated the streets, his mind drifted back to his pathway and the careful steps required for advancement. The subtle manipulations of fate, the theft of intangible concepts, and the delicate balance of his existence all played into the grander scheme of his progression. His Sefirot continued to distort his fate, a silent guardian against the watchful eyes of those who might take interest in his unusual existence. As he thought about his slow advancement, he suddenly saw a man sitting at the side of the street. The man wore normal clothing, showing that he belonged near the bottom of the lower class.
The man walked shakily while cursing loudly. He moved forward until he stepped on a stone, losing his balance. As Kevin saw this, he took the initiative, looking at the man's thread of fate and using Whispered Influence to infuse his fate with the possibility of not tripping. Suddenly, the man found new vigor, catching himself before he fell.
Seeing that his ability use was successful, Kevin scurried along, taking the initiative to stop a carriage and continuing on to his work.
Arriving at the firm, he settled into his usual routine, reviewing ledgers and balancing accounts with practiced ease. His colleagues greeted him with polite nods, though he had little interest in idle chatter. The mundane nature of his work was a stark contrast to the supernatural undercurrents of his life, but it served its purpose—for information gathering and securing capital. This job gave him a substantial income, bringing his monthly earnings to around the same level as the upper middle class of this era.
During his lunch break, he found himself at a quiet café, sipping a fresh cup of coffee while reading the day's newspaper. The columns spoke of industrial growth, rising tensions among the lower class, and the ever-present issues of pollution. However, what caught his eye was a small article buried among the rest—an account of a missing person last seen near the East Borough. The description of the incident hinted at something more than a simple disappearance.
Kevin's eyes narrowed. He tapped his finger against the table, considering his next move. If this case bore any connection to the supernatural, it could be an opportunity—a chance to test his abilities further while gaining valuable experience. But at the same time, if he were to overuse his abilities, he might be found. In the end, he made a mental note to investigate later in the evening when the streets would be less crowded and the shadows more accommodating.
The rest of the day passed uneventfully, with Kevin finishing his work and bidding his colleagues a curt farewell. As the sun set, he retraced his steps back home, changing into darker, more inconspicuous clothing, which included gloves and a mask. He went into his room and pulled out a briefcase that had been personally made for him, with special compartments. He even personally applied anti-divination measures using Static Veil every two days. Opening the briefcase, he examined the multiple small throwing weapons he had made, one of which was crafted with Beyonder characteristics—the Reaper's Dagger, which had cost him around 9,000 pounds. He took out the dagger and hid it within his coat, along with a few small throwing knives—more for assurance than necessity—before looking at himself in the full-body mirror. In the mirror, he could see himself clearly. He wore a black coat, windbreaker, and pants, his face concealed by the mask. A top hat blocked the view of his forehead. He stilled himself before stepping back out into the night.
The East Borough was a stark contrast to the more affluent areas of Backlund. Narrow alleyways twisted between dilapidated buildings, the scent of unwashed bodies and rotting refuse permeating the air. The glow of gas lamps barely reached the depths of the alleys, leaving pockets of darkness where anything could lurk.
Kevin moved with practiced ease, his senses heightened. The faint threads of fate flickered in his vision, weaving through the environment like an intricate web. He followed them, his steps silent against the cobblestone as he traced the path of the missing individual.
Then, he felt it—a disturbance in the flow of fate. The air grew heavy, the shadows deeper. A presence lurked nearby, hidden yet palpable. Their thread of fate was visible to Kevin. His lips curled into a smirk. It seemed he was not alone in the hunt tonight.
With a measured breath, he activated Static Veil, his presence becoming more difficult to detect. He stepped further into the shadows, waiting, watching. If his instincts were correct, this night would provide him with far more than just answers—it would be another step toward being able to advance.
[End of Chapter]