Kairo woke before dawn, not because his dream ended, but because dreams had no foothold in a mind moving at his speed. Sleep had become more shallow lately—like dipping his face in water but never submerging fully. His eyes opened to a loft washed in dim blue light, where dust floated in quiet spirals.
For a moment, he simply lay there, staring at the beams above. Listening.
Rain.
Breathing downstairs.
A loose shutter rattling in the wind.
And somewhere farther—where the Dregs grew thick with secrets—voices arguing too early for honest business.
He turned onto his side, placing a palm flat to the boards, and pushed himself upright with measured force. Not too fast. Not too strong. A single careless moment and he could snap the floor beneath it.
"Up and at em," he murmured. "Wake as the world wakes. Speed means nothing if I'm up with the rest of them."
His voice was steadier today, not the trembling rasp it had been when he was starving. There was weight in it now—a subtle weight, but noticeable. The echo of stolen stats.
Kairo rose, dusted off his clothes, and tightened the rope around his waist. His fingers brushed the crude knife tucked beneath it: a jagged shard of metal with cloth wrapped around the base. Not elegant, not ceremonial. A tool. A threat. A promise.
He practiced several shallow breaths, regulating his mind, his body, his pulse.
A faint shimmer of the System rippled at the edges of his vision—like it approved.
He ignored it. He needed to be clear minded, nothing weighing down his thoughts at the beginning of the day.
He crossed the loft slowly, testing the floorboards with his toes. Silent Step (Enhanced) cooperated more smoothly now. He willed it to dampen sound rather than smother it, allowing himself degrees of stealth instead of vanishing entirely. This was new. This was control.
He placed his palm against the railing and peered down.
The drunk was awake today.
The man stared at the floor blankly, fingers trembling over an empty bottle. He muttered something—a name, maybe—but the syllables collapsed under his breath. The warehouse felt smaller with a conscious human inside it, as if the man's thoughts pressed up against the walls.
Kairo watched him for a long moment. If he's still here, no danger has come, yet. He had decided that so long as a harmless drunk could stay hidden in the area beneath, it was a safe place to be.
If the drunk mattered, the System would've reacted by now. He stretched one last time and turned to leave. Leaving the old man to be his one alarm for if anything changed in his current home.
---
Outside, the Dregs stretched awake.
Vendors dragged crates into position.
Shutters lifted.
Rats darted across the stones like messages delivered too fast to read.
People already argued—about rain, about debt, about bread gone stale.
Kairo walked with his hands in his rope-belt, head down just enough to remain undisturbed, eyes sharp behind the curtain of wet hair. He watched everything, missing nothing.
A pair of guards trudged past, armor dented from nights not worth discussing. Kairo felt the familiar throb of potential theft beneath his skin—Strength, Stamina, Weapon Training—gleaming like coins in their pockets.
But he moved aside politely, letting them splash through the puddles in front of him.
"No need," he whispered. "Not yet."
He needed something else today.
Something new.
Something to sharpen—not escalate.
The market was stirring with a different energy today: tense, watchful, almost hungry. People weren't just selling. They were waiting. Listening.
Kairo eased into the flow of bodies.
Two women whispered near a cloth stand.
"He's back," one said.
"He wouldn't have come this far in," the other whispered. "Not alone, there will be more."
Kairo slowed.
"He?" he asked, softly enough not to offend, clearly enough to be intentional.
The first woman jumped. "What? Who asked you little gutter rat?"
The second rolled her eyes. "Kid's harmless. Looks like he hasn't eaten in a week."
Kairo didn't respond to that.
"Who is he?" he pressed.
"A man from the Inked Knives," the first woman murmured after a moment. "One of their middle ranks. They lost someone the other night."
Kairo's heartbeat snapped like a tripwire.
"A boy," she added. "Eight or nine. His body found in the gutter behind the Mason's Row last night."
Ice crept through his veins.
"Oh, that's not out of the norm though" Kairo said, trying to play it off. He wasn't wrong. Bodies of children turned up more often than adults. Harder to acquire food as a child.
"It was like he was carved open," the woman continued, lowering her voice. "Not robbed. Cut. They said it looked like… like someone drained the life from him."
The second woman shuddered. "They're hunting whoever did it. It won't be long before they find who did it"
Kairo nodded slowly. Thoughtfully.
Then he walked away before either woman thought to question why he wasn't surprised.
---
He wasn't shocked.
He wasn't horrified.
He wasn't trembling with guilt.
But something twisted in him—not regret, but recognition.
They found the body.
People would look for monsters.
People would create legends.
People would whisper rumors and wrong answers until the right ones drowned.
The boy from the other day…
Small.
Frantic.
Cold knife in hand.
Stopped mid-scream.
Kairo's pace quickened—not from panic, but from the need to think.
He ducked into an alley, pressing his back to the wall, inhaling damp stone.
He couldn't let the Inked Knives find him.
Not because he feared them.
But because they wouldn't listen to those they thought to be the culprit. They would only follow through with what the deemed necessary.
He didn't know how to control the System fully. He was still learning.
He didn't know how close he was to doing it again. He gained everything the boy had to offer. It felt..... Amazing. Untold by the system, he felt his life expand by absorbing that boy's very essence.
He didn't know if he wanted to avoid it, at least he would only use it on those he deemed unworthy. He was evil....He wasn't good either.
He closed his eyes.
You took everything, the System whispered in memory.
He clenched his fists until his knuckles creaked.
"I know," he muttered. "It's a fact. A momentary problem. And every problem has a solution."
"Talking to yourself now?" a voice asked.
Kairo snapped his eyes open.
A figure leaned against the opposite wall—cloak pulled tight, hood low. But the man didn't belong to the Dregs. His posture was too certain, too knowing. His boots were actual leather. His hands were clean.
Kairo didn't run.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"A curious passenger passing by." a glint in his eye shown as his head fully turned to Kiaro. " I am also a messenger."
"For who?" Kiaro swallowed softly, not to let the man see. Was he found already? How?
"For anyone interesting." The man's gaze sharpened. "And you. You are interesting"
Kairo didn't reply.
"You were near Mason's Row recently." It wasn't a question.
"Many children were, have been and still are," Kairo said. "What are you trying to say? A frail child like me can do little bit beg for bread."
"Hahaha don't get all to worried," the man chuckled. "Believe me, I know monsters. You're not one. You aren't a frail boy either."
Kairo's jaw tightened. "You don't know what I am."
"Maybe not. But I know you're hungry. And smart. And dangerous in a way that isn't sloppy." The man's smile was thin. "That makes you more useful than harmful."
"To you?" Kairo asked.
"To people who pay attention," the man replied. "Listen. The Inked Knives will be searching alleys. They'll ask questions you won't like. Some of them may not even ask, and just assume on sight. But if you want to avoid being stabbed to death in a gutter—"
He tossed something.
Kairo caught it out of reflex.
A coin? No. A medallion. Bronze. Simple. Marked with a pattern of three slashes crossing in the middle.
"What's this?" Kairo asked.
"A chance," the man said. "If anyone questions you, show them that. You'll be left alone…."
"Why?"
"Because you might grow into something valuable," the man said casually. "And I prefer being owed favors by valuable people."
"And if I don't want to owe you?"
The man shrugged. "Then throw it away."
Kairo stared at the medallion.
"Your choice, boy," the man said, fading back into shadow. "But if the Knives catch you, they won't give you one."
Kairo looked up.
The man was gone.
No sound.
No footsteps.
No trace.
Kairo's heart thudded—not in fear, but in calculation.
"Damn it," he muttered. "I won't be able to stay here much longer. I need to prepare to leave, but..." He squeezed his hands. " There is more to be gained before I leave."
He tucked the medallion into his belt.
Not because he trusted the man.
But because refusing protection without understanding it was stupid.
And Kairo was many things.
Stupid wasn't one of them.
---
He stepped back into the street. Awareness spreading out. He had to be on his toes from here on out.
Movement caught his eye—a street performer juggling glass spheres. A dancer twisting through puddles with an unnatural grace. A pair of children pickpocketing with shocking precision.
Perfect day to gain some boons.
Kairo drifted closer.
A hand brushed his shoulder—accidentally, or was it?
The System awakened instantly:
---
[Target: Street Performer – Dexterity User]
Highest Stat: Dexterity (17)
Skill Available: Sphere Control (Basic)
Passive: Flow Rhythm (Minor)
> Duplicate Detected → Silent Step Upgrade Available
Accept? Y/N
---
"Quietly," Kairo whispered, "yes."
Heat rippled through his calves and arches—Silent Step stabilizing into something smoother, near invisible.
He stepped away before the performer even noticed him.
Another bump.
Another flicker.
[Target: Child Pickpocket – Agile]
Trait: Wrist Bend (Minor)
> Merge with Escape Artist? Yes
His shoulder tension loosened, joints more flexible.
A third bump.
A dancer this time.
Elegance wrapped in mud.
[Target: Street Dancer – Grace User]
Skill: Balance Flow (Basic)
> Merge with Unseen Tread? Yes
Unseen Tread hummed—now revealing footwork patterns that manipulated attention like thread in the dark.
By the time Kairo stepped out of the crowd, he was lighter, smoother, harder to notice. He continued to learn and merge the abilities. The system was amazing.
And every step he took was nearer to mastery. The more he stole, the more he used his abilities the faster he adapted newer ones.
Looking at his stats now, he was the perfect thief, at least for a place like the Dregs.
---
He returned to the warehouse at dusk.
Rain had started again—heavy this time—and the loft welcomed him with the warmth of familiarity. He climbed into the shadows, shook rainwater from his hair, and sat cross-legged on the boards.
He closed his eyes.
Listened to the new rhythm in his legs.
The new balance in his spine.
The quiet grace dancing beneath his skin.
He could run farther now.
Hide deeper.
Strike cleaner.
He could be seen… or not seen.
He could be present… or vanish.
Perhaps he was becoming something dangerous.
Or something needed.
Or both.
The System unfolded calmly in front of his eyes.
---
SYSTEM: THIEF — STATUS REPORT (Mini Update)
User: Kairo
Age: 8
Authority Level: 0
Class: None
---
STATS
Strength: 21
Dexterity: 23 (+1)
Agility: 25 (+2)
Constitution: 20
Intelligence: 21
Wisdom: 18
Charisma: 4
Luck: 7
---
PASSIVES
Physical:
Iron Grip
Hard Knuckles (Minor)
Endure the Cold
Limb Flexion (Weak)
Mental:
Calm Mind
Photographic Recall
Numb Pain
Instinctual / Street:
Streetwise
Opportunist
Brawler's Instinct
Spiritual Awareness
Flow Rhythm (Minor) (New)
Survival:
Iron Hunger
Will to Live
Will to Rise
---
ABILITIES
Combat:
Quick Strike (Upgraded)
Disarm Swipe
Stealth & Mobility:
Silent Step (Refined) – Footfalls nearly imperceptible; customizable suppression strength.
Shadowstep
Unseen Tread (Augmented II) – Footwork manipulates observer perception and directs their gaze.
Escape Artist (Merged with Wrist Bend)
Utility:
Second Wind
Prayer of Focus
Sphere Control (Basic)
---
KNOWLEDGE
Knotwork (Basic)
Line Tension (Practical)
Coin Tally (Basic)
Quick Count (Minor)
---
TITLES
Theft-Touched
Whisper in the Rain
First Reaping
Lore-Lifter
Shadow Borrower (New) — You stole from performers without detection.
Reward: Performance Insight (Minor) – Improved mimicry of repeated motions.
---
The System faded like ink drying.
Kairo leaned back, crossing his arms behind his head.
Outside, thunder cracked.
Inside, he smiled faintly.
"What a day," he whispered to himself.
"Names matter. Titles matter.…" He thought back to the being referenced as a monster and smirked. "I'll choose something sharper."
He closed his eyes.
Not to sleep.
But to plan.