The goblin's body lay in a dark puddle. Cain wasted no time contemplating his first kill. His mind, sharpened by years of suffering, had immediately switched to survival mode.
He bent over the corpse, ignoring the black blood. 'Stats acquired: 0.4 total. Scraps,' he thought. 'Now, how much is this goblin worth?' Life had a price. In the dark alley, that price was the bounty.
He took the goblin's pointed ear, the necessary proof, and the rusty dagger. Then, with an accuracy unbefitting his inexperience, he cut open the creature's chest.
He found a small, opaque stone, the size of a walnut, embedded in the muscle. The Magic Core. Rare for a Level 2 Goblin, but it was his luck. He put it in his pocket, ignoring the disgust for the entrails.
When he stepped out of the alley and into Orynth, he felt naked. His base stats—Strength 4.2, Stamina 5.1—still placed him in the lowest bracket of Rank F. He was a walking target.
The first thing he did was buy a coarse, dark ash-colored wool cloak from a used clothing merchant, spending a few copper coins. He pulled the hood over his amethyst hair. Its unnatural color had to remain hidden to avoid unwanted attention.
The streets were a mix of races: elves who walked with an air of superiority, hairy beast-men pushing carts, and humans of all types, most with faces marked by fatigue.
Walking down a crowded side street, he was abruptly shoved aside. "Move it, brat. Can't you stand still?" Three low-rank adventurers blocked his way. They laughed loudly, reminding Cain of the faces of his old bullies.
Ding.
[Passive Analysis]Target: Human Warrior (Level 18, Rank E) Estimated Strength: ~35. Estimated Agility: ~40.
Cain felt the familiar pang of cold rage his soul carried with it from Earth. They were Rank E, almost ten times stronger than him. Killing them would be a "Feast" of Essence, but he would pay for it with his life.
His lightless gray eyes fixed on the leader. Cain didn't answer. He didn't apologize. He let his gaze speak: If I were strong, you would die.
The leader stiffened. It wasn't the expression of fear he expected. He felt uneasy, confused. "Fucking weirdo... Move, before I break your leg." The group walked past, their laughter a little less confident.
Cain resumed his walk. It wasn't anger he felt, but calculation. They are tools. Prey to be hunted later, when the gain outweighs the risk.
He found the Adventurers' Guild in a busy square. It was a massive stone structure, noisy and chaotic. Cain went to the counter, where a red-haired woman named Elara was processing paperwork with a bored air.
"Here for a job, kid? Market rats don't count," Elara said.
"I want to register. And sell this." Cain placed the Magic Core and the Goblin's ear on the counter.
Elara's eyes widened slightly at the sight of the core. "A core. Rare for a Level 2 aberration. Not bad, kid. It's worth 8 Silver." She weighed it, then returned to normal. "Registration as a Rank F Adventurer costs 5 Silver, including the engraving of your symbol on the card. The rest you can keep. You get 10 Copper for the ear. You owe me for the first sale."
Cain accepted the judgment without blinking. Five silver for a license to kill. An excellent deal.
Then, looking at Elara, he said, "I want information. About Dungeons and methods to quickly earn Ether."
Elara shrugged, taking a crude metal token with an F engraved on it and handing it to him. "Soul Essence, kid, you earn it by killing what's stronger than you. Dungeons are full of dense Ether, but they are for Rank D. For you, the only fast way is forest hunting or Human Hunting." She said the last part in a hoarse whisper.
Cain nodded. He didn't need to hear the ethical side, just the naked fact. Killing humans pays more. It was exactly what he expected from life.
"Those ears and the Core have given you Essence to boost your attributes by about 3 total points and given you 3 Silver in change," Elara continued, looking at his empty gray eyes. "You're the weakest Rank F I've ever seen, don't waste your money."
Cain took the card and the change, ignoring the warning. "I waste nothing," he replied, sliding the card into his pocket.
He left the Guild, the weight of the dark cloak and the Rank F license on his shoulders. His stats were paltry, but he had found his path: power through death. The next step was turning that money into tools to survive the night.