Chapter 3: Shadow Bargaining and the First Seeds of Loyalty
Kael observed the men clustered in front of the dilapidated building, who exuded an aura of nervous and worn-out danger. Their demeanor, their secretive conversations, and their sharp, watchful gazes gave away that they were in the midst of illegal activity. This was one of the city's bleeding wounds; a place where despair and lawlessness were rampant, where authority was only reminded of itself by the sirens of uniformed vehicles. For Kael, this dark scene was a perfect place to test his newly acquired skills and perhaps make his first meaningful move. He placed the flowers gently next to a nearby trash can; grace and politeness were not the currency of the world he was about to enter.
As he approached the group with cool steps, his presence was not noticed at first. However, when Kael stopped a few meters from the rough man with an old scar on his face, who was clearly their leader, just as he had calculated, all eyes turned to him. The tension in the air was like a wire about to snap. The scarred man growled, "What do you want, stranger? You must be lost," he said, a tone of contempt in his voice. The man's eyes shone with suspicion, disturbed by Kael's calmness.
"I'm not lost," Kael said, a faint smile on his lips, his voice calm yet sharp. "In fact, I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be. This is my territory now."
This bold statement brought a hush from the group, then a scoff of laughter. "Who are you to try to land in our garbage dump, runt?" the scarred man said, taking a step toward Kael. Both men beside him had their hands on the bulges at their waists.
Kael didn't back down in the slightest. His eyes fell on a small, almost invisible crack in the wall just behind the scarred man. "I," he said, without changing his tone, "am the one who will rewrite the rules." And at that moment, with incredible speed, he reached for a small, sharp-edged stone that he had picked up from the ground. As the stone flew from his fingers, as if guided by a ghost, it passed an inch from the wounded man's ear and lodged itself in the very tiny crack that Kael had focused on. The high-pitched "whoosh" sound and the definite "click" as the stone hit the wall cut off all laughter and mockery like a knife.
The place had suddenly turned cold. The mocking expressions on the men's faces had given way to surprise and anxiety. The wounded man involuntarily put his hand to his ear, feeling the draft created by the stone. Kael's demonstration had been much more effective than words. This was not something an ordinary street thug could do.
"It was only a warning," Kael continued, his gaze still roaming over the group. "You have two choices now: either quietly disperse and never be seen again in this region, or join me. If you pledge your loyalty to me, you can attain power and order in this city that you have never dreamed of before."
The scarred man swallowed hard. His eyes were filled with awe mixed with fear. "What do you promise us?" he asked, his voice less bravado now.
"Protection, opportunity, and most of all, a purpose," Kael said. "Those who work with me will never be stabbed in the back. But if anyone thinks of betraying me..." Kael paused for a moment, his gaze hardening to steel. "...then the stone stuck in that crack will find a much more vital target."
At these words, a young boy from the group—a thin but agile-looking man in his early twenties—stepped forward. "I'm in," he said without hesitation. "I'm tired of crawling through this cesspool. If there's a way out, it's worth a try." The boy's eyes were sincere; there was a glimmer of hope, a spark of loyalty. Kael felt that familiar energy flowing through him again the moment the boy took that step. This time, what was going through the boy's mind was clearer: his ability to know the streets like the back of his hand, his astonishing ability to pick locks, and his incredible powers of observation. These small, fleeting "echoes of talent" were etched into Kael's mind.
The others seemed more hesitant. The man with the scar looked at Kael for a moment, then at the men with him. Finally, taking a deep breath, he said, "Very well." "Let's try. But if there's the slightest mistake…"
"There won't be any mistakes," Kael interrupted. "There will only be loyalty."
But at that moment, Kael caught a glimmer of betrayal in the eyes of a quiet, stealthy-looking man standing at the back of the group. Although the man seemed to have accepted this new order, he was planning to stab Kael in the back at the first opportunity. At that moment, he felt a slight flutter, a momentary "blur" in Kael's impeccable marksmanship. At the same time, he realized that the "street knowledge" and "lock-picking" skills he had inherited from the young boy were also fading from his mind. His powers were weakening even at the thought of betrayal. It was a painful but valuable lesson. Loyalty