Kael finished school, walked home, and completed his homework like any other teenager. On the surface, nothing about him was different from the thousands of other fifteen-year-olds drifting through life in this chaotic world.
But Kael was not drifting.
Every day was a calculation—one that balanced caution, opportunity, and the need to grow quietly without drawing eyes he wasn't ready for. Even small steps mattered. His first trade with Peter Parker that morning had proven that the system worked. It had given him Pattern Recognition, a skill that already helped him notice small shifts in body language and movement.
But he needed more.
Not powers. Not flashy abilities. Those came later. What he needed now was the kind of strength anyone could explain: physical skill, awareness, and survival knowledge. And unfortunately, the best teachers of such things weren't found in classrooms.
They were found in the dark.
Kael left home after dinner, telling his parents he wanted to clear his head with a walk. They didn't question it. He had always been calm, responsible, and quiet.
He made his way toward the border between Queens and the rougher industrial district—a place where police patrols thinned out and streetlights flickered unpredictably. It wasn't Gotham. But it was close enough to taste danger on the air.
He kept his steps steady. Not hurried, not hesitant. Just present.
He needed to find someone willing to fight for real. Someone who lived with danger, who understood blades, fists, and survival instincts.
The system felt dormant inside him, waiting.
He walked for nearly fifteen minutes before hearing the first sign of trouble: a sharp grunt, followed by a muffled curse. Sounds of scuffling echoed from a narrow side alley between a closed mechanic's shop and a half-collapsed warehouse.
Kael slipped to the edge of the alley and glanced in.
Someone was being cornered.
A man in his twenties, wearing a dark red jacket, stood with his back to the brick wall. Three thugs surrounded him—one holding a bat, one with a chain wrapped around his arm, and the last with a cheap folding knife. The man stood in a defensive stance, breathing hard but focused. His movements had the controlled aggression of someone who had been in more fights than he wanted to admit.
A vigilante. Low-tier. Street-level. Not famous, not powerful, but experienced. Exactly what Kael needed.
The bat-wielder swung. The vigilante dodged narrowly, countered with a quick elbow to the ribs, and kicked another attacker in the knee. But the third man slashed his arm with the knife, drawing blood.
The vigilante winced and stumbled.
Kael didn't jump in immediately. He watched, weighing the moment. The system always valued timing, intent, and balance. Helping too soon or too late held different values.
The fight shifted again—the man tried to roll aside, but the bat cracked into his shoulder and sent him down.
That was the moment.
Kael stepped into the alley.
"Hey."
Three heads snapped toward him. The vigilante blinked in confusion, blood dripping down his arm. The thugs froze, surprised by the sudden intrusion.
Kael didn't look scared, although he very much felt the sting of adrenaline. He kept his voice calm.
"Leave him alone."
The man with the knife snorted. "Beat it, kid."
The bat-wielder raised his weapon. "Or you're next."
Kael's mind sharpened instantly. Pattern Recognition fired, analyzing weight distribution, angles, aggression patterns. The system hummed lightly in the back of his skull—ready.
He didn't need to fight. He needed to tip the scales.
He pointed behind them. "Police."
All three turned.
There were no police.
But it was enough.
The vigilante surged up from the ground and tackled the knife-man into the wall. The bat swung wide when its wielder spun back, and Kael darted forward long enough to shove it off-balance. The chain-man lunged at the vigilante, only to receive a knee to the gut.
In ten chaotic seconds, the three attackers scattered, limping into the night.
Kael stood still, heart hammering, until the alley finally fell quiet.
The vigilante leaned against the wall, breathing hard.
"Thanks," he muttered, pressing a hand to his bleeding arm. "Didn't expect backup tonight."
Kael stepped closer, careful not to startle him. "You're hurt."
The man chuckled weakly. "Yeah. Occupational hazard."
His eyes scanned Kael—calculating, wary, surprised. "You shouldn't be here. This part of town isn't safe."
Kael shrugged. "I can say the same about you."
That earned a faint smirk.
The man pushed himself straighter. "Name's Razorback."
It wasn't a superhero name you'd see on billboards. More like a stubborn nickname given by locals who respected him enough to accept him, but not enough to make him famous.
Razorback wiped his blade on his jacket. A training knife? No. A real one—simple, well-worn, balanced. He noticed Kael's gaze linger.
"You ever use one?" Razorback asked.
Kael shook his head.
"You shouldn't," Razorback said bluntly. "Knives are messy. Dangerous." Then he added, "But better messy than dead."
He winced again as pain shot through him.
Kael stepped forward slowly. "Sit down. I have something that might help."
It wasn't medical supplies Kael offered. It was value. The vigilante had just fought three men and avoided dying by inches. He was hurt, tired, stressed. Emotionally vulnerable. The system weighed these things.
Kael helped him sit against the wall. Razorback watched him with tired suspicion, but didn't resist.
"That cut isn't deep," Kael said, examining the arm. "But it's bleeding more than you want."
"You know first aid?"
"A little."
Razorback nodded, increasingly grateful for the help. "Lucky you came by."
Kael didn't respond. His focus narrowed as the system flickered inside him.
Trade Opportunity Detected
Value Type: Assistance, Trust, Emotional Relief
Potential Reward: Practical combat skill
This was what he came for.
Kael steadied his breath and spoke softly. "You fight well."
Razorback chuckled bitterly. "Not well enough."
"But you're alive," Kael said. "And they aren't here anymore."
That won another faint smirk.
The system brightened.
Trade Ready
Kael accepted without hesitation.
The trade window opened.
Offering: Emotional support, practical aid, improved survival
Receiving Options:
– Street Blade Basics (Beginner)
– Close-Quarters Evasion (Minor)
– Urban Combat Awareness (Weak)
– Improvised Weapon Grip (Basic)
Kael chose Street Blade Basics.
Trade Complete
Skill Gained: Street Blade Basics (Beginner)
EXP +25
A flicker of heat moved down Kael's arm, across his chest, and into his fingers. Suddenly his body understood things it hadn't moments before: knife angles, wrist turns, grip switches, pressure points. Just enough to move like someone who had trained for a few weeks—not enough to stand out, but enough to fight if he had to.
Razorback didn't notice anything supernatural. Instead, he gave Kael a lopsided grin and reached into his jacket.
"Here," he said, pulling out a small training knife with a rubber edge. "If you're gonna walk around at night in this part of town, take it."
Kael accepted the blade carefully. His fingers naturally adjusted into a proper grip—one the system had subtly guided.
Razorback noticed and blinked. "You sure no one ever taught you? That's a solid grip."
Kael shrugged. "Just instinct."
"Well, keep your head down," Razorback muttered. "You've got potential. Don't waste it."
Kael stood. "You need help getting home?"
"I'll manage," Razorback said, pushing himself up. "Thanks again."
He limped away, leaving Kael alone in the dim alley with the glow of a street lamp flickering above him.
Kael practiced a small motion—just a shift of his wrist—and the knife moved smoothly, like it belonged in his hand.
He exhaled slowly.
He wasn't strong.
He wasn't fast.
He wasn't a hero.
But he was learning.
One trade at a time.
And tonight had been a step forward.
A soft breeze blew down the alley, carrying the faint scent of oil and asphalt. Kael tucked the training knife into his pocket and walked toward the street. He kept his posture relaxed, but his senses were sharper than before. Every shadow felt clearer. Every sound more defined.
Pattern Recognition helped him read the environment.
Street Blade Basics steadied his hands and stance.
He still wasn't ready for the threats in this world—not even close—but he was no longer unarmed in the face of danger.
The system hummed quietly.
Another step.
Another trade.
Another piece of the foundation he needed.
As he neared the main road, Kael couldn't shake the feeling that someone else had watched the fight. A flicker of movement on a rooftop. A presence that vanished the moment he glanced up.
But nothing followed.
Not tonight.
Kael headed home with careful steps, each one measured, controlled, aware. He slipped inside his house quietly, moved to his room, and closed the door behind him.
He sat on his bed, opened the system interface, and reviewed his gains.
Small, subtle, and hidden.
Exactly how he needed to grow.
Tomorrow would bring more opportunities.
And more danger.
But Kael was ready.
Slowly, he was shaping himself into someone who could survive this world. Someone who could navigate both its shadows and its lights.
Someone worthy of an omniversal destiny.
---
KAEL STATUS – END OF CHAPTER 3
Level: 1
EXP: 40 / 100
Physical Stats
Strength: 5
Speed: 6
Endurance: 5
Agility: 6
Durability: 5
Stamina: 7
Regeneration: 1
Mental Stats
Intelligence: 25
Memory: 30
Perception: 15
Willpower: 20
Instinct: 12
Multiversal Awareness: 5
Energy Stats
Energy Capacity: 10
Energy Recovery: 3
Energy Type: None
Energy Compatibility: High
New Skills
– Street Blade Basics (Beginner)
(Instinctive knife grip, simple slashes, defensive postures, basic footwork)