Ninth couldn't let hunger distract him, but the more urgent need was to disappear. His wool clothing, though drab, was too neat for the filthy alleys where he was hiding.
He ran across a narrow alley, absorbing the strange sensation of his new body. Every step felt light, every change of direction felt instinctive. His new body wasn't just fit; it was trained.
As he turned into a wider alley, his Instinct suddenly screamed: Threat! Upper right!
Without thinking, Ninth turned and immediately rolled forward.
SRAK!
Something sharp and cold struck the wall behind him. It was a black-bladed, rusty, double-edged throwing knife. The knife was lodged two centimeters deep into the old brick.
"Damn it!"
From the roof of a three-story building, two more figures appeared. They were dressed differently from the previous pursuers; they looked like holy knights from a church, but they moved with a different kind of agility. They were hunters, not sorcerers.
One of them jumped from the roof, landing on a pile of garbage with an almost inaudible sound. The other, the skinnier one, reached inside his clothing and took out a box-shaped object that looked like an artifact, which emitted a magical light—not an offensive magic, but more like communication magic.
"Ninth is here!" the skinny man's voice was sharp and shrill.
Ninth knew he couldn't run. In a narrow alley, with two professional killers, he had to fight. He squeezed the copper coin in his hand.
"If I'm going to die in this world, at least I should know what it's like to fight!" Ninth thought, letting the adrenaline take over.
The man who jumped approached, swinging his fist. Ninth instinctively parried, but the force of the blow was far beyond his estimation.
BAM!
Ninth was thrown against the wall, his breath knocked out of him. The pain was severe, but the healing in his new body immediately kicked in, overpowering the ache.
The second man, the skinny one, sneered and threw another knife. Ninth dodged, feeling the sharp wind of the blade brush his cheek.
The first man prepared to attack again.
Is this the end?
SHOOOTT!
A thick, milky white fog, whose origin was unknown, covered a three-meter radius around Ninth. The men coughed, their vision totally obscured.
"Damn it! What is this fog?" the skinny man yelled, sounding panicked. "Don't let him get away again!"
Although he didn't understand what happened, Ninth seized the moment of confusion. He moved within the fog with incredible speed.
Swoosh~~
He moved quickly, his posture slightly bent, utilizing his body's speed to close the distance toward them.
Target One: The large man near him.
Ninth leaped low, slipping between the large man's waist. He used the momentum of his jump to sweep one of the man's legs.
THUD!
The large man fell with a deafening sound. Ninth immediately landed on the man's back, locking his neck with his elbow—a very efficient and quick chokehold. The man struggled, but within seconds, he went limp, forcibly put to sleep.
CRACK!
The skinny man still hadn't realized what happened because of the fog. "Damn—What's going on? James! Where are you!"
"You rat!" the skinny man shouted. He prepared his throwing knife, knowing that attacking recklessly would be dangerous. So he waited for a definite movement.
Ninth didn't attack from the front. He knew the skinny man was more agile. Ninth grabbed the throwing knife stuck in the wall and threw it toward a metal sheet across the alley—not to injure, but to create a sound distraction.
CRANGG~~
The skinny man briefly turned his head toward the sound and threw several knives in that direction, giving a pause before reaching for more.
Ninth emerged from the fog behind the man and leaped. He landed on the skinny man's shoulder, struck the man's neck with his knee, and in one swift motion, twisted the skinny man's wrist until a small, sharp cracking sound was heard.
CRACK!
The skinny man let out a stifled scream, and the black glove on his hand fell to the floor. Ninth wasted no time. He pushed the skinny man to the ground, then picked up the black glove, knowing it would be useful to cover his fingerprints later.
Ninth ran out of the fog, leaving the two unconscious enemies to wrestle in the deceptive darkness. He ran with all his might, leaving Zoutelan Street behind.
Behind a large, smoking chimney, the silhouette of a mysterious man was visible.
The man raised his right hand, and the milky white fog in the alley slowly drew back toward him, merging back into the chimney's shadow.
A moment later, a dozen men dressed the same as the hunters arrived. In their midst was a man who looked incredibly strong, wearing attire that resembled a holy knight. He also seemed to be their leader. He looked at his two subordinates lying down.
Next to him, a large man reported to him. "They are only unconscious, Lord Hardus."
The man calmly lit his cigarette. "Ninth, that bastard."
Ninth walked through the dark alleys, not stopping until he reached the edge of the city full of activity: The Dock District.
It was a dirty, noisy, and lively place. Old wooden buildings were stacked upon each other; large steamships were moored along the docks, smelling of fish, salt, and oil. The fog here mixed with soot and thick smoke from the ship's chimneys.
He had to change his clothes. Immediately.
Ninth spotted a small fish market area. Piles of wooden crates and wet tarps were scattered around.
In the corner, a dirty cloth merchant was sound asleep behind a pile of used clothing, waiting for dawn. On top of the pile, a thick, dark gray cloak was folded, looking large enough to conceal a body's silhouette.
Ninth's Instinct gave him a quick calculation. There is no guards in there, so success rate is 95%.
Ninth moved. His posture was crouched, his feet gripping the ground. He moved behind the nearest wooden crate, sneaking with a smooth, acrobatic motion.
He was like a shadow, making no sound whatsoever among the rickety piles of goods.
In one rapid movement, he leaped to the side of the cloth pile. He grabbed the thick cloak, a worn trilby hat, and a small amount of coins lying nearby.
Sreett!
Only the sound of fabric rubbing; the merchant stirred for a bit but did not wake up.
Ninth retreated into the shadows beneath a tall building. He put on the thick gray cloak, covering his conspicuous suit and vest.
The worn trilby hat was pulled down to cover his eyes, obscuring the handsome face that wasn't his own.
The transformation was complete. He now looked like a mysterious local or an informant seeking night business.
Ninth moved along the docks, looking for a place to listen. He found a small tavern called "The Rusty Cog."
The smell of hard alcohol, steam-tobacco smoke, and engine noise filled the room.
He sat in a dark corner, ordering a strong beer and a bowl of food with his remaining spare change. He ate ravenously while keeping his ears working.
At a nearby table, three men dressed in rough laborer clothes—greasy leather jackets and steam goggles hanging around their necks—were arguing loudly.
Ninth saw anchor and oil tattoos on their arms. They were probably members of an organization, or at least laborers working under the influence of one.
The first man, the largest one, slammed his glass. "I tell you, Duke Alistair deserved everything! Their family has been rotten from the start. The Eternal Light wouldn't bother issuing an execution decree if it wasn't the Devil's doing!"
The second man, skinny and cynical, hissed, "Nonsense! Duke Alistair was a threat to the Emperor. He had too much influence on the Council. The Church just needs an excuse, and the best excuse in Aldia is always about summoning the Devil! They will be executed this Sunday, the whole family, in the capital's Square."
Ninth sipped his beer, processing the information. Aldia. Emperor. Duke Alistair. Eternal Light.
This was likely a world of monarchy, a powerful church, and brutal politics.
The accusation of "summoning the Devil" was clearly a political tool to eliminate opponents.
The third man, who seemed drunk, muttered, "The Duke is innocent. I heard they were looking for the Family Artifact; I heard the thing is very powerful, though the exact Trench is still unknown. I heard that's what the Church wants. But it seems the artifact is shaped like a copper coin."
Ninth felt a strange sensation. Artifact? Trench?
He glanced down under his cloak, gripping the copper coin with the eye-over-fog carving.
"To hell with it, we're not followers of the Eternal Light," the cynical man said. "The Duke was a corrupt noble, but he wasn't crazy. He wouldn't summon the Devil. He's just being killed for political threat. Now, what we need to worry about is how I'm going to finish this beer—" Then he burst into laughter.
Although he had many questions, Ninth had to confirm one thing first.
"Excuse me, sirs, Trench? What is that?" Ninth asked softly, speaking for the first time.
The three men turned and gave him only cynical stares.
Ninth then pulled out a silver coin, the rest of the money he had.
The large man squinted. "You seriously don't know, kid? This is basic knowledge for everyone. Trench is a branch of power in this world, where there are 12 different branches a person can adopt based on the relic he absorbs. Everyone can only take 1 Trench, so if you have a relic with a different Trench, it won't be useful for you. Well, even though there are many relics in this world, it's hard to get them because they are very expensive on the black market, HAHAHAHAHA."
Ninth almost choked on his beer. He then tightly grasped the bronze coin in his pocket. "Absorption?"
The cynical man added, "Yeah, that's right. A relic holds a power stored within it that matches its Trench. People who have that relic will absorb the power within it; they are called Seekers or whatever. Usually, the Trench power of a relic can be identified instantly by the color of the aura it emits, but there are cases where the color of the relic is invisible."
Ninth nodded. "Then what about Duke Alistair's copper coin?"
The skinny man replied, "I heard that relic was taken by the infamous underground organization Dark Star recently. That's why the Church of the Eternal Light is hunting them too."
The large, big man then trembled slightly. "From the news I got, there are 9 mysterious and powerful people who lead them; they are called The Numbers. I also heard that Ninth, or the ninth one, betrayed them and stole the relic."
The skinny man then spoke. "Ninth? A new member of The Numbers. He came out of nowhere and immediately took a Numbers position. He's the only Number who isn't a Seeker. But he was able to become a Number because of his pure strength. I heard he is very acrobatic. He can defeat his enemies with his assassin-like abilities, using various weapons and cunning tricks."
Ninth pulled down his trilby hat. Now he knew.
He was sure that the copper coin he possessed was a sought-after artifact, but he wondered why the original Ninth hadn't absorbed its power yet.
The coin in his hand was Duke Alistair's Family Artifact, which was also hunted by the Eternal Light and his Victorian-dressed pursuers, the Dark Star, the organization that the original Ninth had joined, which was after the coin.
He had to seek out more in-depth information about this world.
Ninth finished his drink. His Instinct screamed once more, but this time it wasn't a Threat. He had to create a new identity, a new disguise; he was sure the Eternal Light and Dark Star would continue to pursue Ninth.
I also need to find out how to absorb a relic.
He stood up and walked toward the door. Outside the tavern, the fog grew thicker, wrapping the Dock District in a suffocating silence.