Hunger was not pain.
Pain came and went—but hunger stayed.
Aureliux Drafent learned that lesson early.
Morning in Brumvale arrived without mercy.
The cold crept in through cracked wooden walls, and the smell of damp soil lingered in the air. Aureliux woke with his stomach twisted into a tight knot, the kind that made it hard to breathe. Three days. That was how long it had been since he last ate anything solid.
He sat up slowly, careful not to waste energy.
Crying would change nothing. Begging would only brand him as prey.
Since Selira Drafent's death, the world had made its rules clear: no one fed a useless mouth.
Aureliux stepped outside his hut. Smoke rose from other homes—thin, mocking trails that told him others were eating. He watched silently as villagers passed by, eyes avoiding him. Not out of cruelty, but fear. Poverty bred selfishness faster than hatred ever could.
A child without parents was a liability.
His mind worked faster than his body ever could.
Food sources, he calculated.
The river—fish, but requires time and strength.
Old Elara's stall—occasional scraps, unreliable.
Garbage pits—dangerous, but immediate.
He chose the third.
Behind the storage sheds near the village edge, Aureliux crouched low, sifting through refuse with practiced movements.
Rotten peels. Cracked bones.
Molded bread. Most of it useless. His fingers trembled—not from disgust, but from weakness.
Then he found it.
A half-eaten loaf, hardened but intact enough to survive.
He hesitated.
Not because of pride—but calculation.
Someone might be watching.
The warmth in his chest stirred faintly.
Not a voice.
Not words.
Just awareness.
His vision flickered for a heartbeat.
Condition Detected: Severe Hunger
Penalty Applied: Strength -1, Agility -1
So hunger had a cost.
Aureliux clenched his jaw and ate anyway.
The bread tasted like dirt and desperation, but his body responded immediately.
The knot loosened. His breathing steadied.
Survival demanded sacrifice—and dignity was the first thing this world asked for.
As he wiped his mouth, footsteps crunched behind him.
"Oi. That's mine."
Aureliux turned.
A boy older than him—thin, sharp-eyed, with the posture of someone used to taking things.
Roland. Not a brute like Garrik, but worse.
Roland enjoyed watching people hesitate.
Aureliux looked at the loaf in his hand.
Then at Roland. Then at the alley behind him.
He smiled.
"I found it," Aureliux said calmly. "Which means it wasn't yours."
Roland's brow twitched. "You want trouble?"
Aureliux shook his head. "No. But you do."
The boy laughed—then slipped.
Aureliux had already shifted position, forcing Roland to step onto loose gravel.
It wasn't a fight. It was positioning.
Momentum. Balance.
Roland hit the ground hard, breath knocked out of him.
Aureliux didn't strike again. He stepped back.
"Pick your targets better," Aureliux said quietly.
"Hunger makes people desperate.
Desperation makes them dangerous."
Roland stared at him, shaken—not by pain, but by something colder.
As Aureliux walked away, a faint notification shimmered in his mind.
Minor Encounter Resolved
Reward: +1 Awareness
No celebration followed.
Only understanding.
That night, Aureliux sat beneath a broken roof, staring at the stars. Hunger still lingered—but now it taught him something more valuable than food.
This world did not reward kindness.
It rewarded preparation.
He pressed a hand to his chest, feeling the steady pulse within.
"If strength is the price to live," he murmured, voice steady despite the cold,
"then I'll pay it. Again and again."
In Brumvale, hunger was a teacher.
And Aureliux Drafent was its most attentive student.