Perched silently on the rooftop overlooking the bustling street, I methodically reviewed My situation. The warehouse across the way, deceptively hidden behind the cheerful facade of a sweet shop,the holding place for nearly two dozen kidnapped children. My immediate priority was clear: rescue the children and neutralize the operation, starting with Skinner. But first, i need energy, and I hadn't eaten anyhthing good since my abrupt arrival in tI world. The pre-packaged ramen in my bag felt like a relic from another lifetime, best saved for emergencies. I needed local food, inconspicuous clothing, and more information.
I couldn't go far. The delivery schedule for the children was unknown; they could be moved at any time, though nightfall seemed most likely. the rooftop vantage offered a strategic overview, but in action wasn't progress. my thoughts turned back to Skinner. 'Why live in the Undercroft slums if he's receiving significant payments like the one from the portly man? Fear of exposure? Maintaining a low profile? Or is that just a base of operations, with a proper safe house elsewhere for his earnings?' The sheer scale of the kidnapping operation – twenty children snatched in what seemed like a single coordinated sweep within the royal capital, the largest city – hinted at powerful backing and systemic corruption or incompetence. 'How are so many children missing without a major investigation? Unless the investigation itself is compromised.
Skinner clearly wasn't working alone, despite my attempt to blend in during the payoff. The kidnapping involved multiple operatives. Was he the leader, or just a field manager? The wagon crest suggested nobility or a powerful guild was involved. 'What's the endgame for the children? Slavery seems most probable, given the location and lack of overt security. But ritual sacrifice, perverse entertainment, or harvesting for magical components are possibilities in a world confirmed to have magic.' Rescuing twenty children while simultaneously dismantling a potentially well-connected network, including Skinner and his crew, was a complex challenge. And add to that my clothes screamed 'outsider'.
I needed a disguise, quickly. Leaving the rooftop perch, I descended back into the side streets, my eyes scanning the crowds. I needed a target – someone roughly build, wearing common local attire, preferably alone and displaying some level of carelessness. Reconnaissance near the warehouse could wait until i blended in better. i suspect Skinner wouldn't rely solely on the complicit shop owner or the two guards visibly posted outside the warehouse door; there were likely hidden lookouts. Those guards… they wore the insignia of the City Guard, not hired thugs. 'Official involvement, either through direct orders or willful blindness. Killing them complicates things exponentially. Draws immediate, widespread attention. Unknown magical tracking methods are a risk. Better to neutralize or circumvent if possible.' Perhaps sparing them, making them witnesses to the operation's exposure, could be strategically useful later. Disrupting the warehouse operation would undoubtedly bring the operation's backers out of the shadows eventually. 'Patience. Precision.'
I spotted a potential target – one of the men I recognized from the kidnapping earlier. The man was browsing casually at a street stall, tucking a small purchase into a worn leather pouch at his belt after paying the vendor with copper coins. He then turned and began walking down a moderately crowded lane. 'Perfect.'
I silently moved ahead of the man, weaving through the throng of people. i palmed the two meager copper coins i'd taken from the first group of thugs. As the target drew closer, I 'accidentally' let the coins slip from I hand, ensuring they clattered noticeably on the cobblestones just ahead of the man. As predicted, the target's eyes immediately darted down, a flicker of petty greed crossing I face as he spotted the glint of copper. He barely hesitated before bending slightly to scoop them up.
In that precise moment, I 'stumbled' forward, colliding with the man as he bent down. "Ah! So sorry!" I exclaimed, pitching my voice with youthful clumsiness and fear, catching the man's arm as if to steady himself. During the brief contact, my other hand moved with practiced swiftness, lifting the worn leather purse from the man's belt. In the same motion, he subtly kicked the dropped copper coins further under a nearby cart. "My apologies, truly!"
The man straightened up, scowling, more annoyed by the interruption than suspicious. "Watch where you're going, kid!" he grumbled, shaking his hand off. He glanced down for the coins he'd seen, frowning when he couldn't immediately spot them. Seeing my fearful expression, he just scoffed and waved him off dismissively, turning back to look for the lost copper.
I muttered another apology and melted back into the crowd, the stolen purse now securely hidden. i didn't wait around. He saw the target eventually give up on the two coppers, perhaps assuming someone else had snatched them during the brief commotion. The man patted his belt, likely checking his wallet was secure, his expression turning instantly from annoyance to confusion, then panic as he realized his money pouch was gone.
"Hey! Thief! My purse!" he yelled, whirling around, scanning the crowd faces in the crowd. He started shouting angrily, drawing unwanted attention. People began to stare, wIpering amongst themselves. Seeing a pair of City Guards further down the street starting to looking in his way due to the disturbance, the man hesitated, then seemed to decide against involving them – perhaps worried about explaining his own presence or activities. Cursing under his breath, he stomped off angrily in the opposite direction, presumably giving up on the stolen purse. I watched him disappear, a cold satisfaction settling in. 'Predictable.'
After sometime the thug thinks,'why i am running away after spottting the guards that's my purse that got stollen'
Finding a secluded alcove, I quickly examined my prize: a handful of copper coins, maybe five silver – enough for food and minor necessities. More importantly, it confirmed the man was likely low-level muscle, not carrying significant wealth. I then ducked back towards the slums, heading for the familiar network of dark, deserted alleys near where he'd dealt with the first three thugs. He needed privacy for the next step.
I found a suitable dead-end, even grimier and more secluded than the last. I've waited patiently in the shadows. As anticipated, the furious victim eventually wandered into the network, likely searching for the 'clumsy kid' or perhaps intending to vent his frustration on some other unfortunate soul. The moment the man entered my chosen alley, I moved. Stepping out from behind a pile of debris, I closed the distance before the man could react. A swift, precise chop to the side of the neck, targeting the carotid sinus and vagus nerve, dropped the man instantly, unconscious before he hit the ground.
Working quickly, I dragged the unconscious man deeper into the shadows. i retrieved the well-maintained dagger taken from the target – better quality than the thugs' crude knives. I efficiently stripped the man down to his undergarments, taking his sturdy tunic, trousers, worn boots, and the dagger. The clothes were rougher than my own sweatshirt and pants but serviceable commoner attire. i layered them over my modern clothes – bulky and slightly uncomfortable, but a necessary disguise. i used the remaining rags from the first encounter to bind the man securely, adding a few shallow, non-lethal cuts to ensure weakness upon waking, just as he'd done with the leader.
After ensuring the man was stable but immobilized, I punched him sharply on the cheekbone – enough pain to jolt him awake without causing serious injury. The man sputtered into consciousness, eyes wide with terror as he found himself stripped, bound, and freezing in the dim alley. Rags stuffed in his mouth muffled his panicked noises. Ren knelt beside him, placing the tip of the man's own dagger against his throat. The man instantly understood the gesture and fell silent when I removed the gag.
"What… what do you want?" the man stammered, shivering violently from cold and fear.
"Information," I stated flatly. "The children kidnapped today. Where are they taken after the warehouse? Who buys them? What happens to them?"
Recognition, followed by sheer terror, dawned in the man's eyes. "I… I don't know! I swear! I'm just muscle! We grab 'em, drop 'em at the warehouse, get paid a bit by Skinner! That's it! I don't know where they go after! Skinner handles that! Maybe others I don't know anything else, please!" He was babbling, clearly a low-level grunt with limited knowledge, just as I suspected.
I held my gaze for a long moment, assessing the man's terror. It seemed genuine. He likely didn't know the bigger picture. "Is that truly all?" I asked softly.
"Yes! I swear! Please, just let me go! I won't say anything!" the man pleaded.
Ren nodded slowly, almost thoughtfully. I made a show of starting to loosen the bindings on the man's wrist. A flicker of desperate hope, quickly followed by vengeful fury, flashed across the man's face as he likely imagined reporting this, getting revenge…
I saw it.. Before the man could process any further thought, I moved. The dagger plunged cleanly into the man's throat, silencing him mid-thought. A quick, efficient withdrawal and two more precise thrusts to ensure finality. Blood sprayed, hot and sticky, but I instinctively angled himself to avoid the worst of it. The man made a choked gurgling sound, eyes wide with disbelief and dying outrage, before his body went limp, twitching once, then falling still.
I stepped back, observing the lifeless form. 'My first kill,' I registered the thought clinically. I've waited for the expected revulsion, guilt, or even adrenaline surge. Nothing came. Only a cold, detached assessment. 'Threat neutralized and Loose end killed.' Was this lack of feeling normal? Or was it a product of this new world, this new, younger body, this new focus on survival above all else? 'i need to think about these, Another time'
I knew the body would attract attention eventually, but decomposition would take time. The slums were full of ignored tragedies. Wiping the dagger clean on the dead man's discarded rags, I tucked it into my new belt alongside the other stolen knives. i checked my disguise – commoner clothes fitting reasonably well over his own, concealing his modern attire beneath. I exited the alley, leaving the darkness and its silent occupant behind.
Back on the more populated streets, I located a fruit vendor. Using one of the newly acquired copper coins, i've purchased several pieces of an apple-like fruit. "three for a copper?" I commented neutrally, testing the price. The vendor just grunted. 'Seems standard, or perhaps slightly inflated for the area.' I also bought a cheap, dark cloth square, suitable for a makeshift face covering later.
Munching on the surprisingly crisp, grape-like fruit as he walked, i've made my way back towards the rooftop vantage point overlooking the sweet shop and warehouse. i've felt calmer now, fueled and focused. i saved some fruit – the carrot to accompany the stick for the thugs back in the slums later.
Night fell, draping the city in deep shadows punctuated by flickering lanterns and moon glow. The street below grew quieter. I watched as the two guards outside the warehouse door settled onto stools, their posture relaxing, occasional yawns escaping them. The sweet shop closed, its cheerful lights extinguished.
I finished his last piece of fruit, tossing the core into the darkness below. I've adjusted the cloth over the lower half of my face, securing it behind my head. Midnight approached. The guards were visibly drowsy now, heads occasionally nodding.
'Optimal conditions,' I assessed. I rose silently from his perch, a shadow detaching itself from the deeper darkness of the rooftop.
It was time.