The morning sun had barely risen when Alaric slipped into a secluded alley, hidden deep within the labyrinth of the slums. This place had become his refuge, quiet enough to practice away from prying eyes. Summoning the scrap dagger, its familiar weight reassured him as it materialized silently in his hand. His newly acquired eidetic memory replayed every precise motion the assassin had displayed, allowing him to meticulously mimic each graceful, deadly movement.
Minutes turned into hours, the early chill gradually replaced by warmth as the sun climbed higher. He noted with quiet satisfaction the slight ease provided by his newfound vitality, allowing longer periods of intense focus and quicker recovery from exertion. Sweat dripped down his forehead, muscles aching pleasantly as each repetition grew smoother, more instinctive.
However, practice alone wouldn't suffice. His abilities needed real-world testing, and he had no illusions—this newfound strength was only the beginning.
As he concluded his practice, Alaric became aware of a rising commotion echoing faintly from the bustling streets beyond the alley. Exiting carefully, he blended effortlessly into the shadowed corners, overhearing hushed conversations of passersby. The name Cassian dominated whispers and fearful murmurs.
"Heard Cassian's dead," one voice muttered, laced with fear.
"Police raids are everywhere," another replied anxiously. "They're cracking down on everyone they suspect."
"Or maybe it was a rival group? Gang wars getting worse lately," suggested a third.
Tension thickened palpably, settling over the slums like smog, poisoning the atmosphere with suspicion and dread. Alaric quickened his pace subtly, careful not to draw unnecessary attention.
Approaching Murdock's shop cautiously, Alaric spotted the overseer in an animated, whispered phone conversation, his posture tense, eyes frequently scanning his surroundings. The unsettling feeling returned, a gnawing suspicion about Murdock's true intentions.
Stepping back into the shadows, Alaric made a mental note—he would investigate further. But carefully, and later.
"Al?"
He turned to find Axel nearby, leaning against the wall, observing him curiously.
"Hey, Axel," Alaric responded calmly, masking his internal tension.
Axel lowered his voice slightly. "Something's brewing. Murdock's on edge, and now Cassian's people are sniffing around. Heard anything?"
Alaric shook his head slowly. "Nothing concrete. But we need to stay careful. Watch your back."
Axel nodded, visibly troubled. "You too, Al. Something feels off."
"Always is," Alaric murmured quietly, patting Axel's shoulder briefly before moving on. Trust was valuable and scarce—Axel was reliable, but caution was essential.
That afternoon, as Alaric headed back home, a shadow emerged fluidly from a nearby alcove, blocking his path. A tall, powerfully built man stood confidently, wearing a dark tailored suit distinctly out of place amidst the slum's grime. His presence carried a quiet threat, refined yet unmistakably dangerous.
"Alaric Vale," the man greeted him, voice smooth yet commanding. "My name is Marcus. A moment of your time?"
Alaric studied him cautiously. "Regarding?"
Marcus smiled, but his eyes remained cold. "Cassian's demise has stirred questions. My employers need clarity, and you're currently our best lead. Lunch?"
It wasn't truly a question, and Alaric recognized he had little choice. Reluctantly, he nodded, following Marcus into an unusually upscale café tucked discreetly between two rundown buildings.
Seated across from Marcus, Alaric noted every detail with perfect clarity—Marcus's posture, his confident yet controlled movements, the expensive fabric of his suit, and the way his eyes constantly assessed threats.
"Now," Marcus began pleasantly after ordering. "Let's discuss Cassian. You were at his residence. Surely you saw something."
"Just finished my job and left," Alaric replied with calm resolve. "Didn't witness anything."
Marcus's smile tightened subtly. "Cassian was meticulous about security. It seems unlikely you left before something happened."
"Yet that's exactly what happened," Alaric countered smoothly, eyes steady.
Marcus leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice dangerously. "Let me clarify, Alaric. My employers have zero tolerance for loose ends. It would be unfortunate if you became one."
The implied threat hung between them. Alaric remained outwardly calm despite his racing heart. "Like I said—I saw nothing. Your boss has no reason to worry about me."
Marcus studied him intently, weighing his response. Finally, he leaned back, nodding slightly. "Very well. We'll speak again, I'm sure."
The meal ended abruptly, and Marcus stood, adjusting his suit jacket with meticulous care before exiting without another glance. Alaric exhaled softly, waiting until Marcus had fully disappeared from view before standing himself.
Marcus wouldn't let him go so easily. Alaric understood this deeply. He needed more power, more skill, if he hoped to survive future encounters like this.
Walking briskly home, Alaric couldn't shake the sensation of being watched, his senses heightened with alertness. Someone skilled followed him, hidden expertly in the shadows. Every time he paused and glanced back, nothing but darkness greeted him.
Finally reaching his shack, Alaric paused, scanning the area once more. Still, nothing unusual was visible. Yet, hidden on a nearby rooftop, emerald eyes observed him intently—a striking woman clad in dark attire that blended seamlessly with the night.
Her gaze lingered, a flicker of surprise crossing her features as she noticed Alaric glance back more than once—somehow sensing her presence despite his lack of skill. "How intriguing," she murmured softly, voice barely above a whisper. "Alaric Vale… Perhaps you're worth watching closely after all."
As she withdrew soundlessly, vanishing effortlessly into the darkness, Alaric entered his home, unaware of the dangerous new observer who had silently entered his world.
Inside, Lia greeted him with a worried smile, visibly relieved at his return. "Everything okay?" she asked softly.
Alaric forced a reassuring smile, nodding. "Just a long day. We'll be fine."
As Lia returned to her tasks, Alaric's mind raced. The encounter with Marcus had made one thing clear—survival now meant proactive growth, deliberate training, and strategic preparation. It was no longer enough simply to react.
Now that Alaric had time he decided to investigate this "System" because he knew it was his ticket to a better life.
Alaric then called out, "Status"
[Name] Alaric Vale
[Stats]
Strength: F Agility: F Vitality: F
[Traits]
Poison Immunity (Passive) Slight Vitality Boost (Passive) Eidetic Memory (Passive)
[Equipment]
Scrap Dagger (Bound)