The night didn't stay quiet for long.
Footsteps.
Heavy. Careless. Loud.
"…Oi, check over there."
A rough voice cut through the alley.
The boy's eyes snapped open.
Instinct.
Danger.
He didn't move.
Didn't even breathe loudly.
"…Thought I saw something earlier."
Another voice. Younger. Nervous.
"…Probably just a rat."
Laughter followed.
Crude. Mocking.
The sound echoed as three figures stepped into the alley.
Teenagers.
No—thugs.
Torn clothes, but not as ragged as his. Their bodies were bigger, stronger. Their eyes carried that familiar look—
Cruelty born from survival.
"…Wait."
One of them stopped.
"…There."
A finger pointed.
At him.
"…Well, look at that."
The tallest one grinned.
"A stray."
The boy stayed still.
Watching.
Measuring.
Three of them.
All bigger.
All stronger.
His current body—
Useless in a direct fight.
"…He's still breathing," another said, stepping closer. "Lucky night."
"…Or unlucky," the first one chuckled.
Bootsteps approached.
Slow.
Confident.
The boy's fingers subtly tightened around the broken mirror shard.
Hidden.
Not visible.
"…Got anything on you?" the tall one asked, crouching slightly.
No answer.
The boy's face remained blank.
"…Oi. I'm talking to you."
A hand reached out—
Grabbing his collar.
Lifting him slightly off the ground.
Pain shot through his weak body.
But his expression didn't change.
"…Tch. This one's creepy."
"Just take his clothes," another suggested. "Might sell for something."
"…Yeah. And dump him."
The boy's eyes flickered.
So that was it.
No hesitation.
No mercy.
Just simple logic of the slums.
Take.
Use.
Discard.
"…Fine," the tall one said.
He tightened his grip.
And in that moment—
The boy moved.
Not fast.
Not strong.
But precise.
His small hand shot upward—
The mirror shard glinting faintly in the dark.
—Slash.
"…!"
A sharp line opened across the thug's wrist.
Not deep.
But sudden.
Enough.
"Ah—! You little—!"
The grip loosened.
The boy dropped.
Rolled.
Coughed as he hit the ground.
But he didn't stop.
Didn't hesitate.
He scrambled backward, putting distance between them.
"…He cut me!"
"It's nothing!"
"Little bastard—!"
They were angry now.
Not calm.
Not controlled.
Good.
The boy steadied himself against the wall, breathing hard.
His vision blurred for a second.
This body—
Too weak.
He couldn't fight.
Not really.
But he didn't need to win.
He just needed—
Time.
"…Come here!"
One of them rushed forward.
Too fast.
Too big.
The boy's eyes sharpened.
Then—
He moved sideways.
Not to escape.
To lead.
The thug lunged—
And slipped.
"…What—?!"
His foot hit something slick.
Rotten waste.
Water.
Filth.
He crashed hard onto the ground.
The alley wasn't just narrow.
It was dirty.
Unstable.
Perfect.
"…Watch it, idiot!"
"Shut up and grab him!"
But their formation was broken.
Their movement sloppy.
Their anger rising.
Exactly what he wanted.
The boy's lips curled slightly.
"…Slow."
"What?!"
Before they could react—
He turned.
And ran.
Not far.
Not fast.
But enough.
He darted through a narrower gap between broken crates—too small for them to pass easily.
"…Damn it!"
"He's getting away!"
"Go around!"
Their voices faded slightly as they struggled to follow.
The boy didn't look back.
Didn't stop.
Didn't think.
Only moved.
Until—
His legs gave out.
"…Hah…"
He collapsed behind another wall, hidden from sight.
His chest heaved violently.
His hand still clutched the mirror shard.
"…Still… alive…"
Barely.
But alive.
After a few moments, the distant voices disappeared.
Gone.
Silence returned.
Once again.
The boy leaned his head back against the wall, eyes half-lidded.
"…Three."
He muttered quietly.
"…Stronger… bigger… healthier…"
And yet—
"They lost control."
A faint smile appeared.
"…Predictable."
This world—
This era—
It wasn't kind.
It wasn't fair.
Strength ruled.
But strength wasn't everything.
Not always.
"…Good."
His grip tightened slightly.
Even in this weak body—
He could still think.
Still plan.
Still survive.
His gaze slowly lifted toward the dark sky barely visible above.
"…If this is the beginning…"
Then he would adapt.
No matter what it took.
Even if he had to crawl through filth—
"…I won't die here."
🔥 This chapter shows:
His intelligence > strength
Real danger of the slums
First "combat" moment
Survival mindset becoming sharper