A frail-looking boy stood beside his father.
Malnourished corpses cluttered the alleys around them, the stench of rot clung to the air.
"Weakness breeds suffering, Karion."
Karion was born beyond the kingdom's walls, in an eastern town called Ashtern. Far from Lethium, the luxurious capital, Ashtern was a cemetery disguised as a settlement.
Starvation was common. Death was ordinary.
At an early age his father taught him the cruelty of the world, teaching him what he called: "Life's lessons."
"Karion, survival is everything in this world…"
His father paused, pointing towards a nearby alley.
Five men stood there. Four wore expensive suits, a rare sight here. The fifth lay on the ground beneath them. Blood stained the stone road, broken teeth glimmered near the gutter.
"I-I can get the money! Just one more week! I just need another chance!"
One of the suited men crouched beside him.
"You know our policy. Debt ends in death."
"Please! I'll do anyth-"
A fist crashed into the man's mouth.
"Enough talking."
The suited man calmly pulled out a handkerchief and wiped the blood off his knuckles.
"He doesn't exist anymore, exploit the family next."
Karion's father sighed.
"His life is already over. Owing money here is a death sentence."
Karion looked away.
His father placed a rough hand on his shoulder.
"Remember this Karion, the world is cruel to those who play fair."
Death came swift to those that owed.
Days passed after that.
Then his father began to change.
He paced the house at night, muttering under his breath.
"What am I gonna do…?"
One evening, he slammed his fist into the wall hard enough to crack it.
"Those shark bastards!"
His gaze lingered on the front door. A distinct clock, seemingly counting down, had been carved into it.
After that, silence settled over the house.
Dinner became quiet, his father looked exhausted. Arguments sparked without warning. Enraged outbursts lingered. Karion's mother would try to assure him, yet her smile wavered. Even the warmth in her voice began to fade.
His father disappeared days at a time, returning with bruises hidden beneath his sleeves and dried blood staining his clothes.
Men in suits frequently visited, often ending with heated arguments. Then one day, the clock on the front door hit twelve and his father stopped returning.
A week later, whispers of his death spread through Ashtern.
Debt collectors killed him.
Apparently he ran to a life of crime in his final moments. Anything to survive as they say. His time ran out, so an example was made.
Karion struggled to believe it. His father was always strong. Stronger than the starving corpses in the streets. Stronger than the desperate men in alleyways.
Strong men survived, didn't they?
It rained constantly in Ashtern, it wasn't unusual for a week of rain to pass by. Sunny days were rare. Towns further away associate Ashtern with cures. Parents would scare their children by threatening to send them to the cursed town. Common folk here believe it as well, saving up enough funds to abandon the town entirely. Street rats, thugs, and other criminals thrive in it's bad reputation. Mugging weary merchants, threatening store owners, and looting houses.
Karion sat in the living room, tears stained his face. Rain pelted against the windows as he heard knocking in the distance. He glanced towards the door, noticing it was normal.
"That's strange… Wasn't a clock there before?"
He walked up to it, tracing his fingers along the previous carving. There was a faint burn, a lingering sensation.
"Why does it burn? What's going on here?"
Knocking in the distance grew louder, as thunder roared.
Karion's mother had no time to grieve, working longer nights to keep them alive. But, exhaustion hallowed her out day by day. Her skin grew pale. Her coughing worsened.
A few weeks later she died from fever and overwork.
Karion was six years old when he became alone.
Ashtern didn't care.
Children starved in the streets everyday. Some stole, some disappeared, and Some became another statistic. Others lived inside the abandoned sewer tunnel, they call it "The Vein."
Karion learned quickly.
Stealing food earned him beatings if he was caught, so he learned to avoid it. His small frame and natural agility kept him alive. He learned how debt collectors "execute" their targets. A suited man with an umbrella always showed up on rainy nights. He would knock twice, awaiting an answer. People learned to ignore knocks, they say trouble follows after.
If there was no answer, he'd grab a stick. A mysterious glow would envelop it, as he carved a clock onto to door. Afterward, he'd clasp his hands together in a praying motion. Continuing to knock on other doors.
Karion grew weary just thinking about it, memories of his father flooding his mind. He continued to steal, creating new tactics and narrowly avoiding danger.
But survival demanded more than scraps.
One evening, he found a group of men raiding a store in the lower district. Tiger symbols were stitched onto the backs of their jackets.
One of them noticed him staring.
"What're you looking at? Huh?!"
Karion met his gaze.
"What does it take to be strong?"
The man chuckled.
"Seems like you're down on your luck. How far are ya willin to go?"
"As far as I need to…"
He pointed towards a well-dressed man walking along the street.
"Steal his wallet."
He tossed him a pocket knife.
"And if you fail, you're dead."
Karion clenched the handle of the blade, shaking.
'The knife feels heavier than it should.'
He blended into the bustling street. Passing through vendors, stepping on decrepit dress shoes, and avoiding incoming passerbys. He approached and struck. The knife sank into the man's lower back. A sharp gasp escaped his lips as he collasped to his knees.
Karion froze.
For a moment, his hands trembled uncontrollably.
'Calm down, calm down!'
He faltered, 'i just stabbed him.'
Shuffling footsteps snapped him out of it, as he grabbed the wallet and disappeared back into the crowd. By the time screaming started, he was already gone.