Chapter 3: Shadow Bargaining and the First Seeds of Loyalty
Kael observed the men clustered in front of the dilapidated building, exuding an air of tension and exhausted danger. Their demeanor, their secret conversations, and their sharp, watchful gazes betrayed 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 rife, where authority remembered only by the sirens of uniformed vehicles. For Kael, this dark scene was the 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.
His presence went unnoticed at first as he approached the group with cold steps. But when Kael stopped a few feet away from the brute with an old scar on his face, who was clearly their leader, 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 note of contempt in his voice. The man's eyes flashed with suspicion, unnerved by Kael's calmness.
"I'm not lost," Kael said, a slight smile on his lips, his voice calm but sharp. "In fact, I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be. This is my territory now."
This bold statement drew a hush from the group, followed by laughter. "Who are you to try to get down to our dump, dwarf?" the scarred man said, taking a step toward Kael. Both men beside him had their hands on the protrusions at their hips.
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, "I am the one who will rewrite the rules." And at that moment, with incredible speed, he reached for a small, sharp-edged stone he had picked up from the ground. As if guided by a ghost, the stone flew from his fingers, passing an inch from the wounded man's ear, and lodged itself in the tiny crack Kael had focused on. The shrill "whoosh" and distinct "click" as the stone hit the wall cut off all laughter and mockery like a knife.
The ground had suddenly gone 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 far more effective than words. This was not what an ordinary street thug could do.
"It was merely a warning," Kael continued, his gaze still sweeping 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 like you have never dreamed of before."
The wounded man swallowed hard. His eyes were filled with awe mixed with fear. "What do you promise us?" he asked, his voice less bold now.
"Protection, opportunity, and most importantly, 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 that is driven into that crack will find a much more vital target."
At those 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 in 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 flow through him again the moment the boy took that step. This time, the boy's thoughts were 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 scarred man looked at Kael for a moment, then at the men beside him. Finally, taking a deep breath, he said, "Very well." "Let's try. But if there is the slightest mistake..."
"There will be no mistakes," Kael interrupted. "Only loyalty."
But just then, Kael caught a fleeting glimmer of betrayal in the eyes of a quiet, stealthy-looking man standing at the back of the group. The man appeared to have submitted to this new command, but he planned to shoot Kael in the back at the first opportunity. At that moment, Kael felt a slight waver in his impeccable marksmanship, a momentary "blurring." At the same time, he realized that the "street knowledge" and "lock-picking" skills he had inherited from the young boy had also been erased from his mind. Even the thought of betrayal weakened his powers. It was a painful but valuable lesson. Once again, he had realized how vital loyalty was, and that the price for betrayal would be paid immediately.
Kael turned his gaze to the sinister man. "I think there is someone among us who is not willing to make a deal," he said, his voice cold. He pointed with his finger to a rusted metal plaque hanging on the wall next to the man. "Do you see that plaque? If your loyalty is not true, my next stone will not penetrate it."
The man must have understood Kael's intentions, for he turned pale and began to tremble. This was a clear message to the others. There was no room for betrayal in Kael's empire.
That day, Kael had not only "convinced" a few street thugs, he had also experienced the fragility of the mechanism of loyalty and the consequences of betrayal. He now had a small group, a territory under his control, and the first glimpses of new skills echoing in his mind. This was only the first, humble step towards a great empire. But Kael knew that even the longest journeys began with a single step. And his journey was just beginning in this dark city. His next goal was to consolidate this small power and increase its resources before it attracted the attention of larger players.