Hector strolled down the cobblestone streets, smiling to himself, as he walked towards the dump. His sister had done it—she had begun her journey as a Mana-cultivator. He was proud in many ways, but worry still lingered.
Protecting Mirae was second nature to him, but he also knew that as a mana-cultivator, she’d be able to protect herself. After all, he wouldn’t always be around. Even now she had headed back home while he went to scavenge in the dump.
This is a good thing; I know it is. I just need to make sure I can keep her safe, no matter how strong she gets.
His own cultivation wasn’t going well—in the time it had taken him to make it to Gravity Forging realm one, others such as Jodie had made it to Gravity Forging two. And from the looks of it, Jodie was on her way to three.
He was falling behind. Maybe not with pure fighting skill, but eventually, without the system anyway, his skills wouldn’t help much.
Yawning, he watched as people milled by, some despondent looking for something to do with their days. Others had a sense of direction—they were perhaps going home after a long day of work.
Maybe his father was heading home now.
I wish he would just rely on me more. But it’s fine. I’ll make it so he knows he can count on me.
After a few more minutes of strolling, he entered the dump. The smell, as usual, hit him like a rampaging horse, but after all these years, he no longer felt like puking. The smell had, in a way, become a part of what he had to bear.
He strolled through the gates, heading deeper in. The dump was quiet, which made sense as it was afternoon and as it got darker, it would be hard to work—you were bound to hurt yourself during the day, let alone at night.
But as he made his way over to his spot, a sight he hadn’t seen before made him pause.
It wasn’t unusual for fights to break out in the dumps—there was always someone trying to push their weight around Adrien, usually. But they would take your stuff and then leave, fearing you might gather yourself and come back for round two.
But what he saw made no sense: a group of men much older than him stood in front of a small crowd. A large man stood at the front of this crowd, his muscles bulging and his arms crossed. “This area now belongs to the Scoda gang. If you want to scavenge, you come to us. Anyone found scavenging without our permission well...” the man gestured to his side.
There lay a small boy. He looked familiar, but Hector couldn’t place him. All the faces in the dump tended to blend together after a while. Hector watched on, slowly making his way closer as the man continued.
“If you find something we like, we will pay you in good scrap. If not, you’ll keep on searching until the job is done.”
The crowd of Hector’s fellow young slum rats groaned, which was the best that many of them in their malnourished state could manage.
As Hector approached, he spotted someone. They stood by a small hill of trash, which they had no doubt been searching before this gathering. He approached them. Perhaps they knew what was going on.
“Hey,” he said, tapping them on the shoulder.
They swivelled, their thinning hair twisting in the wind, and frowned. “Who are you?” They, a boy, said, taking a step in front of his trash pile. “If you’re thinking of stealing from me, you better not. I got Scoda’s permission.”
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///: No Talent found.
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Hector grunted, but he wasn’t too surprised—of course, he wouldn’t have a talent. He regarded the malnourished boy again. Scratches ran along his stick-thin arms, and he had a busted lip. It seemed he’d taken a beating to claim this small pile.
But that tended to be the life of someone without any cultivation. Hector smiled. “That’s actually what I want to ask you. Who are these Scoda guys?”
“What?” the boy said, looking at him as if he were stupid. “How do you not know Scoda? They’ve been here all day. Passed around a few lumps, and claimed this part of the dump for themselves. Filthy dogs.” The boy jolted, his head snapping around to see if anyone had heard him. A few slum rats rummaging about nearby looked over, but when no one from the crowd spoke up, he let out a sigh.
This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.
They are a bit too far to hear you. Maybe if they were in the third level of the Gravity Forging realm, that reaction would have made sense.
The group of men didn’t look like mana-cultivators, just a bunch of thugs here to exploit the weak. They wore clothes that barely looked better than his own. So they were no doubt slum dwellers like himself.
But why were they here recruiting in the dumps? No one did that. The children in the dump tended to be malnourished and struggling, all of them looking for a piece of treasure that could change their lives.
They were not people who would seek out the gang life in any way. Hector felt at his side, his hand brushing over a bump, feeling the pill in his pocket. It could be his treasure. By the heavens, it had caused him enough trouble to be considered one.
“So, what do you want? I can’t introduce you to them,” the boy said. He threw the occasional look at the pile behind him, but kept his guard up. His hand twitching, as if waiting for Hector to attack.
“No,” Hector said with a sigh. He shook his head and moved away from the boy. Slowly. The last thing he needed was for the boy to attack him. It wouldn’t be much of a fight, but he didn’t need to draw the attention of a gang who was clearly up to something.
It was hard enough to find good scrap as it was. If he had to give it away when he found it, that would be more than frustrating.
I just hope that they do what they are doing and move on. Heaven knows, we have enough troublemakers in this place as is.
Putting the activities of this unknown group to the back of his mind, Hector made his way towards his section of the dump. The gang surely hadn’t spread that far yet, as the dump itself was quite big.
If his guess was right, the gang didn’t have enough men to look after all the dump. Otherwise, why would they be forcing a bunch of malnourished children to do it for them?
He spent the next few minutes walking in silence as he thought about the upcoming events. The pickpocketing operation would be difficult. The worst thing that could happen is that he or one of his friends got caught.
Then not only would it be doubtful whether they would have the money to help with the debt, but they would also lose a friend. The Middlec city guards weren’t known for being particularly merciful.
Hector cringed as he remembered a young man called Kable. He wasn’t great, but he wasn’t the worst. But one day, he did something—no one had seen what happened, only talk of theft—to catch the guards’ attention. The next time Hector saw Kable, the guards had strung him up from a lamppost. Dead.
The city guards stood underneath him, to ensure no one took down the body before the day was done.
I can’t let anyone suffer the same fate. I mustn’t. Should I call this off?
On one hand, it made sense, but on another. If he called it off, who knows what the Collar gang would do with his father? Who knew what they would do with his sister?
Debt in the slums didn’t just end with one person.
Hector sighed as he came to the bottom of his trash pile. He glanced up at its peak as the sun slowly dipped behind it. He wouldn’t have much time to search, and the chance of it being a fruitful search was low.
He felt for the pill in his pocket, its smooth surface brushing against his hand. He could take it now, but would it be worth the risk? On one side, it could be a huge boost in power, but on the other, it could leave him comatose.
If something bad happened while he was out, everything would be ruined. And it’s not that he didn’t trust them. But the idea of his friends having to do the operation without him left an unpleasant taste in his mouth.
Shaking his head, he trudged up the trash heap. He could think about this stuff later. Right now, he needed to, hopefully, gather valuable scrap. And no one was on their way to do that for him.
“Get up you welp!” A voice broke him from his thoughts, and he paused. “If you want it, you are going to have to work for it.” The person then laughed as the sound of something thudding and a grunt caused Hector to frown.
He turned. Across from him at the bottom of a pile a little smaller than his were two individuals. One, a girl, stood over the other, who lay on their side clutching their stomach.
“What, don’t you want it?” The girl drove her foot into the person’s side with a thud and cackled as she held something up to the person on the ground.
The person let out a scream as they shielded their head. “Please. I need it. Please.”
Another person picking on the weak, who couldn’t defend themselves. He contemplated turning around—after all; the sun was going down. But no.
If this were back on earth, he would at least say something, and here he could actually help—he could defend those who couldn’t defend themselves. Plus, his father had taught him better, and would probably want him to intervene.
Ah well. Let’s at least see what I’m dealing with.
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///:
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Cultivation Level: [Gravity Forging - 1]
Talents: [Nimble Sole [•○○] (1/3)]
Talent Fragments: ( 2-Normal )
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///:
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Hector paused. The girl had Talent fragments. Which was fantastic—on the downside they were normal, which sadly meant they couldn’t be fused with the (1-Mystic) fragment that he got from Mirae.
Rarity levels didn’t mix after all. But it was a start. After all, so far, aside from Mirae, he had only found Talents within the normal range.
I should be able to take her. As long as she isn’t hiding techniques. Or a knife.
The girl wore a tattered tunic, and pants stained with dirt. But not in the same way as some who went dump diving. No, she was just your average level of dirty. So that begged the question. Why was she here?