It was just another Monday. Erik tightened the laces of his worn boots before leaving on his long journey to the town. The chilling air of the dawn bit through his cheeks and lips.

Through the walk, he kept creating small embers out of thin air to keep his fingers from turning blue. It was also decent training, after the talk he had with his siblings all those weeks ago, he felt that he needed to improve his magic skills before anything else—no matter how small those improvements would be.

‘Today is going to be different,’ he promised himself as he set out to the pub he worked at.

After what felt like forever, he finally got there. His face dripped with cold sweat and he held his chest with a hand. It seemed to him that he had drained all the energy from his mana core. He had a lot of training to do if he wanted to be a competent mage.

Just as Erik got to the tavern, the owner greeted him at the entrance.

“Erik, we need to talk," He began, avoiding eye contact.

Erik knew that tone. He stopped for a moment so he could breathe. "Am I in trouble?"

Lars sighed deeply. "No, It's the business. We’ve had fewer customers these past few months than ever since I created this tavern. Prices are going up and the people aren’t looking to buy alcohol or food so much anymore. I can't afford to keep you on a paycheck."

The words hit Erik like a blow. "But... what will I do? My family needs the money."

Lars gave a defeated look, the dark circles around his eyes, his wrinkled face from stress—it spoke more than a thousand words. "I’m truly sorry, Erik. If things were different…”

Erik stood still for a few moments, letting the situation weigh in before nodding numbly, the necessities of his family pressing harder on his shoulders. “I understand…” he said, trying to keep his voice steady. “Thank you for everything.”

He turned to leave, but Lars called after him. “Erik, wait. You might find some work at the guard post. They might only want you to clean their equipment a few days a week, but at least you’ll eat every day and earn some money…”

Erik stopped in his tracks, his back still turned to the man. “That won’t do,” he muttered. The idea of cleaning equipment for a few meals a week seemed laughable compared to the desperate need for money that his family faced. If Erik wasn’t strong for his brothers… for his mom, then his world would end.

Lars walked up to Erik and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I know it’s not much, but it’s something,” he said. He then placed some copper coins into Erik’s hand. “You’re a hard worker, Erik. I hope this helps, even if just a little. Something will come up,” his words were sympathetic as he understood it was hard for a kid but at this point, Erik couldn’t even look him in the eyes.

Erik stored the coins inside his pouch. The gesture was kind, but it barely made a dent in the mounting pressure he felt. He forced a smile, though it did little to ease the knot tightening in his chest.

“Thanks, sir. I appreciate it,” Erik said, his voice steady despite the turmoil roiling inside him.

Lars’s gaze softened with concern. “I’m sorry things couldn’t be different. I wish I could offer you more.”

Erik nodded, turning to leave. “It’s alright. I understand.”

As Erik stepped out of the restaurant, the cool morning air hit him like a splash of cold water, grounding him in reality. Things felt harsher than usual, more oppressive.

Each step he took felt heavier than the last. He wasn’t tired physically. Though he was unaware, his mind told a different tale.

Aimlessly, Erik wandered through the town.

‘Walking helps people think,’ or so he thought, so he did it for a long time. He watched people go about their lives, his thoughts were all about finding a solution but nothing came.

‘What if I can’t find a new, good job?’ finding this one was hard enough already, no one would want to pay a kid enough for their whole family’s survival.

His thoughts went to his mom. She was fragile now, stuck by some weird illness he couldn’t comprehend. He wanted to help her, but he didn’t know how.

His siblings on the other hand seemed reliable despite their age. All of them—including Erik—were kids, but as the oldest, he felt he should be more than that. ‘A role model,’ he thought before shaking his head. ‘What kind of role model am I? I can’t even bring them safety.’

As he passed a crowded market square, a man brushed by, Erik was immediately drawn to him by the lingering scent of his perfume in the air. Clinking sounds coming from a money pouch at the man's belt caught Erik's eye. ‘A rich man walking on the street… alone?’ he scouted all around.

The man was dressed in a red robe adorned with an emblem, his blood-red hair stood strong, and a sheathed sword at his belt. Perhaps he was a knight or someone of importance. Either way, he looked incredibly wealthy.

It was at that moment that a dangerous idea took root in Erik’s mind. It sounded desperate, there was probably a better way, but he had to look out for his own, just like his ex-boss had done.

Anticipation clouded his judgment, and before he fully realized what he was doing, his nimble fingers had already made the decision. With a swift motion, Erik closed their distance, lifted the pouch, and disappeared into the crowd.

With his heart pounding, he hid in an alley, the weight of the stolen coins in his hand. After looking around to make sure it was safe, he sat down and counted each coin. It was two hundred and fifty crowns, mostly in big copper coins. More money than he had ever seen at once.

That night, he brought food for a few weeks home, avoiding his mother's questioning eyes. Erik said that the boss had been generous and paid him well for his week—deciding to give him a few days off too—it was a lie but whether it was willful ignorance or not caring, no one questioned him on it.

“I stole from a man today… what a day,” he mumbled under his breath as he was falling asleep.

Erik never thought he would steal, he didn’t know how to feel about it. This kept him awake for hours as he wasn’t sure whether to feel shame or just accept it as how it was.

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Two months had gone by in a blur, the deep and cold winter had finally achieved its peak. During this time, stealing gave Erik the chance to earn his bread and butter and support himself and his family. It was risky. Sometimes he got caught and beaten to the point he could barely move for days but with each passing day, his skills had grown sharper.

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His family, now well-fed and warm, remained blissfully unaware of the source of their newfound fortune. He could buy Anna hunting gear, books for Ben, sewing materials for his mom, and anything else needed. He had also wandered by some magic stores, trying to see how much a grimoire or any magic book cost, but it was too high for him to buy them yet. Even a simple one was 1,000 crowns. No way he had that much money.

One chilly evening, Erik navigated the bustling streets, his eyes scanning for potential targets. Due to the weather, it was now hard to find any sort of crowd outside of the peak hours so he had to act quickly. His fingers itched for the thrill of the steal, his mind already calculating the quickest escape routes. After spotting a big man in fine clothes, Erik made his move. He had other men around him, but Erik didn’t care. Whether just bystanders or friends of his, Erik could steal as easily as drinking water.

It was something that Erik learned by pure accident. Perhaps he had been using it subconsciously for a while but it was something he only noticed when he came home one night and didn’t want to alert anyone. By transferring a small amount of mana to his feet, each of his steps became muffled and would barely be heard no matter how much force he hit the ground with.

Now, it was a technique that required him to be barefoot and be in a flow-like state to work but if done right it was like he was a ghost. And so, he placed his shoes near an alley and became one.

‘And it's done,’ Erik smirked as his hand touched the pouch.

This time, however, something went wrong. The man turned, his eyes locking onto Erik with a dangerous look. Erik's heart skipped a beat. He flicked away, weaving through the crowd with the agility of a cat. He made sure to go around corners and change streets at least three times before stopping in a dark alleyway but a sense of unease gnawed at him.

Just as he held his hands deep in his knees and caught his breath, three men appeared at the entrance of the alleyway. From the scars on their faces and smiles, it didn’t look like they wanted to just chat. They all were bigger than your average man and seemed very muscular. He couldn’t confront them directly, no matter what.

Erik’s heart felt like it was going to burst, his fight-or-flight response almost making him insane. ‘No escape, check. They have no visible weapons, check. I have.. the money pouch, check.’

The one Erik had just stolen from—the biggest one—stretched his arm forward and opened his mouth. Perhaps he was gonna say something, but Erik didn’t want to stay for it.

He threw the bag to him, hitting him on the nose, and bolted through the men’s legs to escape.

He couldn’t get much farther than a few steps, however. “Not so fast,” some unknown voice said before Erik was caught in his tracks.

A very scrawny man held him, his arms locking around Erik’s chest. He held his scarred face way too close to Erik’s own. His frail hair swayed over Erik’s head.

‘So… there were four, huh-’ that’s all he managed to say before one of them bashed his head, knocking him out.

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Everything hurt. Pain throbbed in his head, pulsed through his torso, and radiated from his arms and legs as if a hammer had battered every part of his body. His feet felt extremely cold and yet wet—he hadn’t retrieved his shoes since he took them off. Erik groaned as he forced his eyes open, the simple act sending a sharp pain through his temples.

The world around him was murky, bathed in shadows, with only a dim light coming through a small window near the ceiling.

As his senses slowly returned, Erik tried to make sense of his surroundings. The room was cold, its stone walls were full of moss. On the ground, there was a thin layer of water and some kind of sludge. In front of him, a few meters away, was an iron door, its surface rough and pitted with age.

Erik’s heart raced, each beat throbbing through his entire body as he realized the precariousness of his situation.

He struggled to move, but his body was uncooperative, heavy with fatigue and pain. It was then that he felt the rough slash of rope digging into his skin, binding him tightly to a thick pillar. The realization sent a chill down his spine. He was a prisoner. ‘I guess they brought me here… whoever they are,’ Erik thought. The fact that he had no idea who had captured him or why only heightened his anxiety. He never expected that those people would bring any trouble to him, it was supposed to be just another day.

‘If I want to get out of this alive, I need to free myself,’ Erik resolved, forcing himself to focus despite the overwhelming discomfort. He concentrated on the faint flicker of energy within his mana core, bringing to life a small flame close to his hand. The fire sputtered weakly at first, barely more than a glowing ember. He knew, however, that he had no choice but to push through the pain and exhaustion.

With gritted teeth, Erik tried to mold the flame into a concentrated beam, directing it toward the rope that bound him. The task required a level of precision and control that would be difficult even at his best. A single misstep, a momentary lapse in concentration, could set the entire rope—and possibly himself—ablaze. Sweat ran down his forehead, as he strained his mind to keep the magic under control.

Time seemed to stretch endlessly as he worked, his muscles screaming in protest with each second. The rope was thick, its fibers stubbornly resisting the heat, and Erik could feel his strength waning with every passing moment. His hands trembled, the flame flickering dangerously as his focus wavered. But he couldn’t stop – he couldn’t afford to fail. Desperation fueled his determination, and he poured the last of his energy into the flame, willing it to burn through the bind.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the rope began to give way, its fibers smoldering and snapping one by one. Erik held his breath, barely daring to hope as he saw the bonds slowly drop. With a final burst of concentration, the rope fell to the ground completely.

As soon as it did, Erik extinguished the flame. He let out several harsh breaths before calming and recollecting himself.

His hands were free. He flexed his fingers, wincing as blood rushed back into his cramped muscles. His wrists had never been so sore as they were now but this was still a good outcome to his predicament.

Before he could think of anything else, though, voices echoed through the chamber—there were people outside the other side of the door.

Before he could plan his next move, the door of the room creaked open, and the men who had captured him stepped inside. Erik quickly lifted his arms and clenched his fists into a fighting stance, summoning all his remaining strength and preparing for the worst. His legs and arms trembled slightly.

The leader of the group smirked as he took in Erik’s defiant stance, clearly amused by the boy’s determination despite his obvious exhaustion. The man was tall and broad-shouldered, his expensive clothing contrasting sharply with the rough attire of his companions. A deep scar ran down the side of his face, giving him a menacing appearance that matched the cruel look in his eyes.

"You’ve got some guts, kid. And some skill,” he said, pointing at the incised ropes. Their blackened look made it clear that it was fire. “I respect that."

“What do you want from me?" Erik retorted sharply.

The leader chuckled, crossing his arms. "Relax. If we wanted you dead, you'd be long gone by now. Honestly, I see potential in you."

Erik frowned, confused, and subconsciously lowered his guard.

"Good choice," the leader snickered. "I've heard about you. A new kid on the block, stealing money left and right... taking what's ours," he added, his tone turning serious on the last part.

“We can’t let that be the case,” the same scrawny man as before added.

“You’re fast, nimble and it seems like you got magic despite being so young. We have a place for you in our crew.”

‘So this is what this is about... I don’t want to join someone but it's at least better than dying.’

“Why would I join you?” Erik asked.

The leader curled his lips. "Because out there, you’re just a lone thief waiting to get caught or killed. With us, you get protection, training, and some pretty good pals for life,” his last remark made the rest of the crew laugh. “And… we can’t have competitors so if you don’t join us, we’ll have to kill you,” he said and extended his arm. His fist slowly became enveloped in a yellow glow. “I’m a powerful user of the wolf fist, I can kill a man with a single punch so make the right choice.”

Erik gulped dry. Despite the man seeming mostly friendly at first, he was just trying to persuade him into joining peacefully—Erik had no choice, however.

"Alright," Erik said finally. "I’ll join you."

The leader grinned, clapping Erik on the shoulder. "Smart choice, kid. Welcome to the Wolf Fist Gang. I’m Zac, by the way. Stick with us, and you’ll do just fine."

And so, Erik’s journey continued, a young boy navigating the treacherous world of crime and survival, determined to do what’s right and provide for his family.