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Summoned Eight
Prologue 1

Prologue 1

My eyes opened to a scene that made my stomach churn. I was in a dungeon, tied to a chair. The damp air reeked of mildew and rust. I struggled against the ropes binding me, but they didn't budge. With a sigh, I gave up.

Skud. Was this how my life ended? Pathetic.

"Indeed, it would be pathetic if your life ended here," a gruff voice answered my thoughts.

I froze, my heart racing. "Hey there, buddy. Mind telling me why an honest street kid like me is tied up in a scary room like this?"

"Honest?" The man's voice dripped with flat disbelief. I sensed a flicker of amusement, a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, I could talk my way out of this.

"Do not worry," he said, his tone flat. "You will leave this place eventually."

What? Could this son of a skud actually read my thoughts?

"Mister?" I said, trying to sound as clueless and innocent as possible.

"Yes, child?"

"Why am I here? I swear I haven't stolen anything worth this much trouble. A bite of food here and there, maybe a coin or two, but nothing expensive. You've got the wrong guy."

This time, I was being honest. If this man could read my thoughts, lying would only make things worse.

"Honestly, I have no idea why I'm here," I added, my voice trembling slightly. I wondered if I was being too pushy with the scared innocent child act.

"Liar," he said, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. "You might deceive others, but never yourself. You know that better than anyone."

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I let out a shaky breath and forced a chuckle. "I'm telling you, you've got the wrong criminal."

"You want more, don't you?"

"More?" I asked, irritation creeping into my voice.

"Yes. More money. More strength. More renown. No matter how much you pretend, we both know you won't be satisfied as a mere petty thief."

I clenched my jaw, anger bubbling beneath the surface. Satisfaction? Of course skudding not. I was less than human as far as the world was concerned. Who the skud would be satisfied with that?

The man stepped closer, his presence oppressive yet strangely encouraging. It was as if he could hear the thoughts I was too ashamed to voice.

What I wanted wasn't just wealth or survival. I wanted to walk in the presence of the most powerful men in the world and steal their attention—steal their admiration—right out from under their noses. Renown. Strength. That was what I truly desired.

The man pulled out a dagger and placed it in my hand.

"Your choice," he said. "Let it go or take it."

I gripped the dagger like a drowning man clutching a lifeline.

"Abandoned at birth, ignored by the world, forced to survive in the mud," the man said. "I recognize your resilience. From now on, you shall walk the path of the thief."

My breath hitched at his words, though I couldn't fully understand their meaning.

"There are seven others like you," he continued. "Once you wake, close your eyes for 20 seconds."

As his final words echoed in the dungeon, darkness enveloped me once more.

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