The smell of rancid grease and rusted iron hung heavy in the narrow alley. Han Sen kept his hood low, his hand resting near the bundle of Iron-Tusk Boar meat wrapped in his cloak. Every shadow in the slums felt like a predator.
He stopped in front of a crooked wooden sign that read: Ge's Trading Post. The door groaned on its hinges as he stepped inside.
The shop was dim, lit only by a flickering tallow candle. An old man with a face like wrinkled leather sat behind the counter, sharpening a cleaver. He looked up, his eyes immediately darting to Han Sen's chest.
[Detected: Old Man Ge (Level 14)]
"Level 1," Ge spat, his voice like gravel. "Whatever you're selling, I'm not buying it for more than three copper. Trash shouldn't be wandering the slums after dark."
Han Sen didn't say a word. He placed the bundle of meat on the counter and unwrapped it.
The dim light caught the marbled, dark red flesh of the Level 8 boar. The scent of high-grade mana meat filled the room. Ge's eyes went wide. He dropped his cleaver with a loud thud against the wood.
"This... this is fresh," Ge whispered. He reached out a trembling finger, but Han Sen pulled the meat back.
"Ten silver," Han Sen said. His voice was flat, devoid of the fear Ge expected from a Level 1.
The door behind Han Sen slammed open. Three men stepped in, their heavy boots thumping against the floorboards. The leader was a man with a jagged scar across his nose and a Level 18 badge pinned to his grease-stained vest.
"Well, well," the leader said. He looked at the meat, then at Han Sen. His gaze was predatory, the look of a man who had never been told 'no' by someone weaker than him. "A Level 1 kid with Level 8 meat? You must have stolen this from a real hunter."
Han Sen felt the familiar tingle of danger. His 10 HP felt like a thin sheet of glass. If the man with the scar swung his club, Han Sen would break.
"I didn't steal it," Han Sen said quietly.
"Doesn't matter," the scarred man laughed. He stepped closer, his sour breath hitting Han Sen's face. "In these streets, everything belongs to the Iron-Dog Gang. Hand it over, and maybe I won't break both of your legs."
Ge, the shopkeeper, quickly backed into the corner, his eyes filled with fear. He didn't want any part of this. He looked at Han Sen as if the boy were already a corpse.
Han Sen's mind remained cold. He didn't reach for a weapon. He didn't even move. He opened his skill list in the quiet of his mind.
[Skill Selection: Basic Intimidation]
[Allocating Skill Points: 1,000,000]
[Basic Intimidation has evolved into: Monarch's Pressure (Passive).]
The air in the room didn't just get cold: it felt like it vanished.
The scarred man's laugh died in his throat. He tried to take another step, but his knees buckled. He felt a weight on his shoulders as if the entire mountain had been placed upon him.
There was no sound. There was only the hiss of the man's ragged breath as he struggled to stand. His two companions behind him collapsed instantly, their faces slamming into the dirt floor.
Han Sen looked at the scarred man. His gaze was heavy, cold, and absolute. "The price is ten silver," Han Sen repeated.
The man with the scar couldn't speak. He looked at Han Sen and saw something that wasn't human. Behind the Level 1 boy, he felt the presence of something ancient and terrible. He reached into his belt with a shaking hand and threw a pouch of coins on the counter.
"T-take it," the man wheezed.
Han Sen picked up the pouch. He counted out ten silver coins and left the rest. He wasn't a thief. He was a businessman.
The pressure vanished. The air rushed back into the room, and the three thugs scrambled for the door, tripping over their own feet in their hurry to escape the "Level 1" monster.
Han Sen turned back to the stunned shopkeeper. He slid the meat across the counter.
"Keep the change, Ge," Han Sen said.
He walked out into the night, the invisible Phoenix on his shoulder letting out a soft, satisfied trill. He had his money. Now, he needed a place to stay where the shadows were a little less crowded.