---
The rain was quieter in the morning, more a whisper than a downpour, slipping through the cracked roof in thin silver threads. Kairo woke to the sound of it, lying on his side atop warped boards warmed slightly from where his body had slept. Sleep hadn't given him rest—his mind ran too quickly now for that—but it had given him a kind of reset, like wiping a knife clean before the next cut.
He opened his eyes and breathed deliberately through his nose. The warehouse still smelled of wet wood, rusted nails, and old flour sacks. The drunk downstairs snored like a dying bellows. And Kairo's body… no longer shook. Not violently, at least. There was still a faint hum of stolen stats under his skin—power waiting to explode if he stepped wrong. But it was quieter today, less unruly.
That alone was enough to make him sit up straighter.
He pushed himself to his feet, careful—more careful than instinct wanted—and rolled his shoulders. His arms responded too fast again. He forced them to slow, not trusting speed he hadn't earned.
"Well," he murmured to the empty rafters. "Learned power is not practiced power. I'll need to understand this strength before if can be helpful."
He said it the way some people prayed. Not because he expected an answer, but because saying it aloud carved it deeper into bone.
He stepped into the open span of the loft. Shadows draped like old cloth over the beams, but the light was good enough for training. Kairo marked a line along the floorboards with his eyes—imagining a tightrope—and stepped onto it. Heel-to-toe. Heel-to-toe. His muscles twitched to quicken, but he refused them the satisfaction.
Balance wasn't speed. Balance was ownership.
On his fifth step, he turned too sharply, allowing for instability to gain hold, stumbling forward. He caught himself with a quick grab on a support beam that groaned under the strain.
"That was close," he whispered. "I am better, but I'll still eat dirt, rock, or someone's ass if I slip up on the run."
He dropped into a crouch and sprang lightly, catching the beam and hanging by his fingertips—Iron Grip eager to show off. He refused its easy strength again, forcing his forearms to work harder than they needed. Sweat pricked along his brow in the cold air.
He held tight. Iron Grip would be well enough to hold this position but his muscles wouldn't get as strained with ability assistance. He breathed in deep one last time, finally letting loose after a long exhale.
"Training the body isn't easy. Lucky for me, I can steal to gain muscle. I still must do things the hard way."
His voice barely carried in the hollow loft, but speaking made the lesson real.
He practiced Silent Step next—not on padded floors or under instruction, but across broken boards that squeaked like faulty hearts. Step. Shift. Roll. Weight on the outer blade of the foot. Soft where other street kids clattered.
After twenty passes, he barely made a sound.
He stopped by the railing overlooking the warehouse floor. The drunk was still asleep, half-curled around his bottle. Kairo studied him not with pity but with calculation. He didn't need anything from the man; taking from him again would be wasteful. And waste was for people who weren't starving.
He climbed down silently.
Outside, the Dregs greeted him with their usual cold, gritty indifference. Puddles reflected the bruised-gray sky. Doors cracked open just wide enough for hands to toss out waste. No one smiled in the Dregs. Like shoes, smiling was a luxury here.
He walked the narrow lane toward the old cord-seller's stall, hands in rope-belt, eyes scanning without appearing to do so. Streetwise settled onto him like a second spine: noticing who watched, who didn't, who pretended not to.
Old women sweeping. Rats jumping from trash piles. A butcher arguing with a man over the weight of spoiled sausage. None mattered. None were marks worth his time.
He needed control, not chaos.
On a quiet stretch of wall, he drew two lines with his fingertip in the dust: start and stop. Then he practiced Shadowstep—a flicker between places. He aimed for a single stride's difference: stepping from start to stop without the in-between.
The first attempt sent him too far left, stumbling into the wall.
The second lurched him forward, almost pitching him into a rain-filled crate.
The third blurred the world around him, but left his body aching with the force of misalignment.
He leaned a palm on the wall, closing his eyes.
"You're not wind," he muttered. "You're a whisper trying too hard."
He tried again. This time he focused not on disappearing, but on redirecting attention—letting observers remember the wrong place.
The world dimmed. He slid across space with a half-step that felt like cheating.
When he opened his eyes, he was precisely on the drawn line.
A small smile ghosted his lips—rare, slight, dangerous. "Sweet luxury."
He practiced until sweat slicked his back and exhaustion nudged the edges of his legs. But not enough to dull him.
He needed more.
A lesson in isolation only meant half the work was done. The other half required danger.
He walked toward the market alleys, where danger came cheap.
Children of the Dregs were learning their chores—stealing apples, sweeping crumbs, dodging kicks. Vendors haggled with the frantic energy of people who had no room for loss.
Kairo stopped at a baker's side window, where a woman with flour-streaked hair counted coins quickly, tying them into small cloth pouches. Her fingers were deft—trained by necessity.
He watched closely, not in greed, but pure observation.
He stepped, appearing behind her for a moment to touch her back gently.
The System flickered.
---
[Target Acquired: Market Baker – Civilian]
Knowledge Available: Coin Tally (Basic)
Skill Available: Quick Count (Minor)
Passive: Steady Hands (Weak)
> Focused Knowledge-Theft? [Y/N]
---
"Yes," he said silently in his mind.
Warmth prickled along his fingertips, subtle, like flour dust mixing with blood. Numbers aligned themselves effortlessly behind his eyes.
He pulled back. And vanished from sight.
The baker jumped and turned to look behind her, "What was that?" She reached her hand behind her back to feel where he had touched.
Looking around, she turned back to her counting only to fumble the coins, realizing she lost count.
From the shadowed corner he stepped back, he smiled. "Amazing. Who needs books?"
Knowledge theft didn't weigh on him the way ripping life from someone did. It felt… clean. Controlled. Like picking a lock without breaking the tumblers.
But he wasn't alone in the market.
Three older boys watched him from beside a fish stand—boys older than him by maybe three years, broad-shouldered by Dregs standards, eyes like sharpened junk metal. Not the trio from yesterday. A new set. Trouble that thought it recognized opportunity.
The tallest stepped forward, cracking his knuckles. "Oi, what the fuck was that you did just now?"
Kairo's expression didn't shift. " If you watched me do that and haven't realized to leave me be, this won't end well for you." He glanced at the boy and his friends as they approached him.
A ripple passed through the crowd—half amusement, half warning.
The tallest spat near his boot. "Big words from a gutter-snipe. Consider this a welcome tax."
"Those were literally, just words. Also, I'm not paying your tax."
"You don't get to decline Rat Boy."
Kairo tilted his head. "If you want to fight, you'll be losing more than the fight itself. Also, all these vendors won't like a fight near their wares."
The second boy smirked. "Then we take you somewhere quiet. You're outnumbered."
"I don't go quiet places with strangers," Kairo said. "Not unless I'm the one choosing the strangers." Ignoring the last part.
"You have a smart mouth," the third muttered.
"I have a smart everything, borrowed knowledge and all," Kairo corrected as he winked.
Somewhere behind him, a fishmonger barked, "Take it outside if someone's blood is about to be on my stall!"
The tallest shoved Kairo toward a side alley. Kairo let the shove happen, stepping lightly to avoid tripping on purpose. No need to escalate early. But as soon as they were away from the market noise, he slipped free of the tall boy's grip with a twist of his wrist.
He wasn't afraid. Hunger had taught him many things. One was that fear didn't keep you alive—angles did.
The tallest cracked his knuckles again. "You think you can beat three of us?"
"I think I can beat one of you," Kairo replied calmly. "And I think the other two will panic when they see how fast it happens."
The boys exchanged glances.
"Get him," the tall one snapped.
The first charge came sloppily—a telegraphed swing of a knife. Kairo stepped inside the arc, targeting the boy's wrist. Disarm Swipe activated cleanly, allowing the knife to clatter to the stones.
The second grabbed for him. Kairo used Unseen Tread (Augmented) to feint low, pivoting his body allowing it move like water through the boy's arms. A s ift knee to the ribs crumpling him to the hard stone.
The third boy hesitated—just a flicker, but hesitation kills. Kairo touched his sleeve as he darted past.
The System woke instantly.
---
[Target: Alley Runner – Apprentice Thief]
Highest Stat: Agility (14)
Skills: Light Step (Minor)
Passives: Limb Flexion (Weak)
> Duplicate Detected → Upgrade Path Available
Light Step → Silent Step (Enhanced)
Limb Flexion → Absorb? [Y/N]
---
"Yes," he hissed.
Energy spiraled through his calves and ankles. Silent Step grew quieter—dangerously so. Too quiet. He almost felt himself vanish from the stone entirely. The boy dropped to the ground after being drained.
The two boys who could still stand stared at him with dawning fear.
"You aren't normal," one whispered.
"No," Kairo agreed. "But I'm predictable when people try to hurt me."
He struck the tall one next—Quick Strike (Upgraded) allowing three hits in perfect rhythm: gut, throat, temple. The boy dropped like loose cloth.
The last boy raised his hands. "Wait—wait—just… wait."
Kairo paused—not because he was swayed, he paused with amused look. What could they offer?
"Why should I?" he asked.
"We—we didn't know what you were," the boy stammered.
"You took a risk, a very poor one at that. And, I feel normal, am I not?"
"Um, yes? You are, I don't mean anything ," the boy blurted. "I swear it."
Kairo considered him—eyes trembling, breath shaky. A risk if left alive. But killing for convenience wasn't the same as killing for survival.
"You'll remember this," Kairo said. "But you won't repeat it. Because next time, you'll be a shriveled corpse in the street."
The boy nodded frantically.
Kairo stepped forward, whispering: "Run."
The boy ran.
When he was gone, Kairo felt the tension leave his shoulders. Not relief—just readiness ending. He straightened his rope-belt and walked out of the alley.
He didn't hide what he was. But he didn't flaunt it either. Power needed practice.
He returned to the loft by midday. The rain had lightened to a mist. The drunk was still asleep, or dead—it was hard to tell with men who lived on what numbed them.
Kairo climbed to the loft and sat cross-legged where a patch of light warmed the boards.
He breathed in. Out. Let his stolen stats settle.
"Ahhh, it was a good day," he whispered. "Practice under calm. Chaos will demand it later."
He worked Shadowstep again, this time from one corner of the loft to the other, each blur smoother than the last. He traced knots in the air, recalling every clove hitch and constrictor he'd learned. He tapped numbers on the floor, testing Quick Count at different speeds.
Hours passed. Rain thickened again. The Dregs swallowed another afternoon.
The glow of the System came softly, like a candle deciding the darkness needed a shape.
---
SYSTEM: THIEF – STATUS REPORT (Mini Update)
User: Kairo
Age: 8
Authority Level: 0
Class: None
---
STATS
Strength: 21
Dexterity: 22 (+1)
Agility: 23 (+1)
Constitution: 20
Intelligence: 21
Wisdom: 18
Charisma: 4
Luck: 7
---
PASSIVES
Physical: Iron Grip; Hard Knuckles (Minor); Endure the Cold; Limb Flexion (Weak) (New)
Mental: Calm Mind; Photographic Recall; Numb Pain
Instinctual: Streetwise; Opportunist; Brawler's Instinct; Spiritual Awareness
Survival: Iron Hunger; Will to Live; Will to Rise
---
ABILITIES
Combat:
Quick Strike (Upgraded) – Chain up to 3 precision hits.
Disarm Swipe
Stealth & Mobility:
Silent Step (Enhanced) – Footfalls nearly undetectable; stronger with momentum.
Shadowstep
Unseen Tread (Augmented)
Escape Artist
Utility:
Second Wind
Prayer of Focus
---
KNOWLEDGE
Knotwork (Basic)
Line Tension (Practical)
Coin Tally (Basic) (New)
Quick Count (Minor) (New)
---
TITLES
Theft-Touched — +1 Agility
Whisper in the Rain — Veil in Storms
First Reaping — Extractor's Poise
Lore-Lifter — Pattern Insight (Minor)
---
His vision cleared. The light faded.
Kairo leaned back against the post, eyes half-lidded.
"Lesson learned," he murmured.
His voice was neither warm nor cold—just true.
"Tomorrow, I'll steal something worth it."