Chapter 1: Emblem of Beginnings

The [Executioner]’s blade was exact and precise. Under the evening light, the slums were dyed in a warm gold that outlined the crowded, crooked wooden buildings and the scratches atop the scaffold. Sindrey had gone through a number of executioners in its years, some worse than others. This one was a professional.

A crowd clustered around the raised platform like fluttering moths. Some hollered and jeered, a few gasping and drawing back as the victim’s head was severed clean off. It landed on the worn wood with a thump, and the next person was brought forward.

No one yelled too loud, of course. The prison warden stood off to the side, staring down at the crowd with hard eyes, while a line of guards in shiny armor circled the perimeter of the area. Shrieking would draw too much attention to oneself, and no one wanted to be accused of sympathy for an Empire spy.

The newest victim walked past the executioner’s billowing, stained cloak on shaking legs, hunching in on himself. His hands were tied in front of him, and the crowd got a little louder, a little more mocking, as he kneeled. This one must be unpopular.

Standing at the edge of the crowd, Leo frowned and peered up at the scaffold, activating [Judgement].

Name: Stanley

Age: 46

Level: 13

Class: [Shopkeeper, Tier 0]

Personal Skill: [Reliance Lvl 6]

Leo clicked his tongue. Another false accusation, if his mundane class was anything to go by. Any criminal worth this sort of attention would’ve had their class altered by the system ages ago, or they’d at least be Tier 1.

Tier 0 classes, unlike the “proper” tiers, weren’t set in stone. They’d change to match whatever best described a person, which was one of the things that made poor slum folks like them so “unreliable” to all the people living in the respectable parts of town.

Personally, Leo thought it was bullshit. If you asked him, it was a whole lot easier to judge trustworthiness among Tier 0s. His [Judgement] personal skill let him view other people’s stat sheets, though it was limited to only the first block of information and gave no descriptions. It was still a hell of a lot more than other people could do, and the skill had saved his ass more times than he could count.

Being able to see that a supposed fruit vendor was actually a [Trafficker] let him stay safe. He couldn’t do that with Tier 1s. A Tier 1 [Doctor] could go on a killing spree, but their class wouldn’t change.

Leo turned off [Judgement]. It was unfortunate, but he wasn’t going to waste his time feeling sorry for the man. Not when this was such a valuable opportunity.

Scanning the crowd, he hunched his shoulders and slipped deeper into the throng of people.

“Three strokes!” someone yelled, and Leo cringed. He wasn’t going to lie and say he was a saint who wouldn’t wish that on anyone (there were some people he definitely wouldn’t mind subjecting to that fate), but for an innocent shopkeeper three slices for a beheading was rough.

His eyes sifted through the mass of figures, landing on the source of the yell. Short, middle-aged, bloody apron—some kind of butcher. His pocket was full, and he watched the scaffold with rapt attention, a manic glee in his gaze.

Leo edged closer, keeping his movements natural as he pushed through the crowd. In the corner of his eye, the executioner moved, sword gleaming in the evening light.

In the end, it only took one swing for the victim’s head to go flying. Leo didn’t see the crowd’s reaction. He was already slipping away, hand in his pocket, fingers gripping the rough fabric of a weathered wallet. He didn’t stop moving until he made it safely into a nearby alleyway and ducked behind a pile of garbage. Across his vision, system notifications filtered in.

[You have successfully stolen [1] wallet]

[You have gained experience! Experience shared with [1] other party member]

[Progress towards next level: 93%]

93%. He was a lot closer to leveling than he thought. A few more successes and he’d hit level 18. Two more levels after that and he’d reach the Tier 0 cap, when class changing became possible.

After scanning the alleyway one last time, Leo opened the wallet and started counting. A grin spread across his face. That butcher had way more than he’d thought. He counted again to be certain, mentally adding the amount to his savings along with the money he’d earned doing odd jobs that day. Thirty more arans, and there’d finally be enough.

100 gamils. That was the cost of a single Tier 1 class promotion crest. Double that for two.

Hands trembling a little, Leo stuffed the coins back inside the wallet. Without a crest, a Tier 0 was forever stuck at the level 20 cap, but once he had one, he’d be able to pick a Tier 1 class. A Tier 1 class opened up a world of opportunities. It meant a chance to finally escape the slums, a chance to get a job without getting turned away the second he was asked to show his stat screen and the [Thief] class popped up.

Leo shoved the wallet back into his pocket. He’d find somewhere to pawn the leather off later, once enough time had passed. He used to leave empty purses and wallets behind, but he knew better now. All it took was one person with a [Tracking] skill to discover it and he was screwed. Besides, they could fetch a good price depending on their quality.

The [Thief] poked his head out the alleyway. Across the street, a rickshaw screeched. The puller was old, muscles straining and sweat dripping down a wrinkled face as he struggled to pull the two passengers behind him. Leo’s eyes lingered on the struggling man for a moment before he looked away.

From here, the scaffold was a shadowy shape, the crowd surrounding it a faceless sea. The executioner was pulling out a bag for the bodies and heads, the line of prisoners all disposed of. The warden flicked his wrist, dismissing the guards, and turned away.

A few people began to turn and leave. It was as good a time as any, Leo thought. He waited until a few more passersby flooded the streets, then the [Thief] slipped out the alley and hurried back home.

—

“Home” was little more than an abandoned, half-destroyed building. The roof and doorway had long been caved in, and weathered, jagged debris blocked the entrance. The only way inside was through a small hole on the side, which involved slipping between crooked pillars barely far apart enough for a single person to get through.

Leo had found this place when he’d first arrived in Sindrey, and the shelter at night was worth the inevitable bruises and cuts from trying to get in. They would never have survived so long without it. Besides, the narrow opening helped deter “unwanted guests,” though that didn’t stop him from checking the whole place every time he made it back just to be safe.

Leo glanced up at the sky through the gap in the ceiling over the building’s old living room. Rosy streaks were beginning to filter through long, flat clouds, and he could hear the bustle of workers readying to return for the day. He should be back by now, Leo thought.

Hand clenched around the wallet in his pocket, the [Thief] glanced around. “Allan?”

No response. Leo frowned. It wasn’t like him to be late.

Silently, he pulled up the party map. It wasn’t particularly detailed, but the glowing markers did give a general sense of location. Allan’s dot was within the block.

Leo was about to check the entrance area when the creaking of metal sounded just outside the building. He spun around and moved over to the opening in the wall, pushing aside some debris and peering through the crack. He grinned as a familiar figure pulled into the alleyway.

Allan set down his rickshaw, the wheels releasing a final squeak, and he moved to chain it in place.

“You’re late,” Leo said. He stepped aside, making space for the man to slip through the hole and into the building proper. Allan looked apologetic.

“Sorry, I got caught up in the square.” The [Rickshaw Puller] scrutinized the opening, then carefully heaved himself through, wincing as his leg caught the edge of a broken support beam. Being tall always made slipping into these sorts of spaces harder. “Was that the second one this week?”

“Third if you don’t count all the floggings,” Leo corrected. “Anyway, Allan, guess what?” He pulled out the wallet, opening it and revealing its gleaming contents proudly. “46 arans.”

Allan’s eyes widened as he stared down at the thick wallet, half in awe and half in disbelief, and Leo handed it to him to count as well.

“I’m gonna head out again tomorrow morning. Two more should do it.” Normally he avoided pickpocketing more than one person in such a close time span—it was all too easy to get caught, and the bribe to get out of prison would set back their savings by months. But this was a special case. They were so close he could practically taste it.

“Actually…”

Allan reached into his pocket and pulled out a worn bag of sweaty coins. Leo’s eyes widened, rapidly counting them. 23 arans.

“The fuck? Did you rob someone?” Leo held the coins up, searching for any signs of forgery, but they were legitimate. Allan looked proud.

“One of my passengers tipped really well.”

Leo lowered the coins, frowning. Sure, Allan was a very good [Rickshaw Puller]. Tall and strong, muscular where Leo was wiry, he could pull rickshaws fast and keep them steady while he ran.

Of course, it helped that he had a good-natured personality and was handsome enough to have gotten more than a few unsavory comments over the years. Dark hair and eyes, lightly tanned skin, and well defined features that looked way too noble for the slums. If it was between him and one of the older, world weary rickshaw pullers who were one fall away from croaking, people very often chose Allan.

Still, even then it was very difficult to earn so much—not when fares were so low. There was a reason you didn’t see many rickshaws in Sindrey’s center. They were “unsightly” and the people there could afford actual carriages. Leo squinted.

“How many rides did you take?”

Allan’s voice was light. “Oh, you know. Just the usual.”

The [Thief]’s eyes narrowed further.

“How. Many.”

“...Eight.”

Leo didn’t yell, but he did level Allan with the most disapproving glare he could muster. The [Rickshaw Puller] had on one of those innocent looks that really shouldn’t work for someone with his build, but almost always succeeded with anyone who wasn’t Leo.

“At least it wasn’t ten?” Allan tried.

Leo groaned. “Just hurry up and use [Renewal].” The last time Allan had taken on more than five rides in one day, his legs had been swollen for weeks afterwards, and it had taken another month before he could run properly again.

By the end of the ordeal, Leo was seriously considering destroying the rickshaw, but he knew Allan would just go out and rent one from the old shed owner if he did, and he’d be damned if he let that happen. The current rickshaw belonged to an old puller who’d allowed Allan to use it in exchange for a percentage of his daily fares. The percentage was higher than the old one, but Leo had insisted on the switch after he’d happened to overhear some of the rickshaw shed owner’s “comments.”

Suffice to say, Leo had cussed the owner out, found somewhere else to rent a rickshaw, then spread nasty rumors about the shed owner for good measure. Sure, it was petty, but in Leo’s opinion there were certain things you just didn’t fuck with. For him, Allan was at the top of the list. He would never have survived the past five years without him.

“It’s really not that bad, they weren’t very long trips?”

“Uh huh.” Leo pulled up Allen’s stat sheet. Since they were party members, he didn’t even need to use his [Judgement] skill.

Name: Allan

Age: 24

Level: 17

Class: [Rickshaw Puller, Tier 0]

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

Personal Skill: [Wrath Lvl 1]

Health: 89%

Stamina: 17%

Mana: 14%

Strength: 16

Magic: 10

Constitution: 15

Agility: 15

Defense: 15

Resistance: 8

Mana: 14

Equipped Passive Skills (3/3): [Endurance Lvl 2], [Weather Tolerance Lvl 1], [Athletics Lvl 2]

Active Skills (3/8): [Celerity Lvl 2], [Renewal Lvl 2], [Cleave Lvl 2]

“You’re checking my stats, aren’t you.”

“Sure am.” Leo clicked his tongue. His health wasn’t as low as he’d feared, but that stamina and mana were abysmal. “Just don’t do it again. Seriously.”

The man saluted cheerily. Leo rolled his eyes and raised a hand for Allan to give him back the money. “Here, I’ll put it with the savings.”

As Allan handed over the wallet, however, the [Thief]’s eye caught on something. The cloth lining one side of the wallet was just a bit thicker than everywhere else.

His eyes narrowed, and Leo peeled the cloth back. 10 arans dropped out and landed on the floor with a clatter.

For a second both he and Allan just stared down at the coins.

“...Hey, Leo? How much more did you say we needed?”

As the shock wore off, a wide grin slowly spread across the [Thief]’s features.

“After this? Nothing.”

Five years of saving. Five years of scraping by on the bare minimum for food, dodging the guards, sleeping with one eye open, returning with aching muscles from lugging garbage and any other odd job he could find. Five years, and it was finally over.

Leo’s eyes darted up to the sky. It wasn’t quite sunset just yet. If he left now, he could make it to Wallace’s and be back before nightfall. He distantly realized his hands were trembling, giddiness and excitement in equal measure. His fingers clenched around the wallet, and he swallowed.

“I'm heading out. You stay here and rest,” he said. “No excuses.”

"You sure you don't me to go with you?"

"I'll be fine," Leo assured. "Wallace knows me. Besides, you don't like the guy, right?"

Allan frowned, but didn't deny the statement. "Be careful," he finally said.

Leo gave a mock salute, then turned to exit the building.

—

As the sun began to sink, the shadows of Sindrey’s slums lengthened, stretching across the dusty road. Workers rushed past, eager to get home before night, and beggars hurriedly searched for shelter. You could never predict which nights would be safe, and making the wrong guess would get you killed.

The closer Leo got to his destination, the faster his heart raced. He kept his eyes flitting about, moving from alley to alley. The money weighed heavy in his bag, and he resisted the urge to keep a hand over it. Doing so would just make it obvious that he had something valuable on him. Even if this was just a fraction of their total savings, it was still a high enough amount to tempt a desperate drifter who hadn’t eaten in a week.

Better to blend in, let people see nothing but another poor slum resident running home before the sun set. For most, the fear of the Silence overrode the temptation to mug someone so close to night. Without wards protecting Sindrey, they were left to their own devices after sunfall, and money didn’t matter if you were killed the next hour.

The [Thief] swerved around a passing carriage, the horses’ hooves pounding against the dusty road in the carriage man's haste to get away from the area.

On the street over, a rickshaw puller collapsed in a heap on the ground, the rickshaw collapsing and his customer spitting curses from the back. How many times had Leo feared he’d return home and see no one there, only to find Allan fallen somewhere on the street, just another rickshaw puller left to die? How many times had he feared the guards would kick them out of that abandoned building, leaving them the ones to scramble for shelter when night came?

No more, Leo thought. With this final installment, they’d finally, finally be able to buy the badges, and it would all be over.

At the end of the road, warm light spilled from the windows of a two story shop. The building was constructed out of stone unlike the vast majority of wooden buildings in the area, and it stood on the border between the slums and the “respectable” parts of Sindrey.

Leo’s pace slowed. Surrounding the building, a few guards mulled about, casually eyeing the passersby. Wallace had never hired guards before.

Leo took a second to straighten out his clothes, attempting in vain to brush some of the filth off of them. He peered at his reflection in a nearby dusty window, and hazel eyes stared back.

His brown hair was a mess, jutting out in every direction despite his attempts to smooth it out. Dirt smeared bronze skin, and he tried in vain to get it off. He would never look truly presentable, not in clothes that tattered, but he had to at least look decent enough for the guards to let him in.

Inhaling, the [Thief] straightened his back and strode forward confidently. He didn’t give the guards a second glance even as he felt their eyes following him, simply pushing open the door like he belonged there.

It was immediately obvious why the guards were there.

Sitting at the back counter was an unfamiliar elderly man. He wore a fine coat with shiny silver buttons that matched his thin eyeglasses. His greying hair was combed neatly back, and he eyed Leo with shrewd, glittering eyes. Across his chest was a small nametag. Aldas, it read.

Leo came to a stop a foot away from the counter.

“Where’s Wallace?”

“If you’re referring to the former owner, he’s been arrested for conspiring against Avel.” The man adjusted his eyeglasses, and his lips thinned in distaste as he studied Leo. “I’m afraid you’re out of luck if you’ve any business with him. The warden sent me a notice just this morning that he’s in line for tomorrow’s execution. You’ll have to head to the prison yourself for a word.”

Leo’s eyes narrowed. Wallace wasn't the best person or anything—Allan's constant avoidance of the man was enough to make Leo take a second glance at him, but the [Rickshaw Puller] had claimed it was a personal issue.

Wallace had been one of the few people who'd helped him when he first arrived in Sindrey five years ago. They weren't close, but he had more faith in the man's integrity than in probably the rest of the slums combined.

The shopkeeper certainly hadn’t had anything to do with the Empire from what he knew. And another execution? At this point, he suspected the warden was simply trying to clear out the prisons. “Taking out the trash,” he’d probably say. If he and Allan stayed here much longer, if they happened to be thrown in prison themselves, then it was very likely they’d meet the same fate.

Schooling his expression, Leo stepped up to the counter.

“No need. I’m here to buy two Tier 1 class badges.”

The shopkeeper’s face didn’t move.

“That will cost you 200 gamils.”

Leo pulled out the small pouch containing the savings, the coins inside clinking a little. He hadn’t even pulled the drawstring yet when Aldas laughed, eyeing the bag with derision.

“I said 200 gamils. Do you take me for a fool?”

Leo inhaled, attempting to calm his growing irritation. He spoke as politely and formally as he could.

“If you check Wallace’s notes, you’ll see I already reserved two badges to pay for in installments. This is the last one. I’m guessing you have access to those records.”

The man frowned, but Leo heard the wooden sliding of a drawer and a few papers being flipped. Aldas squinted down, eyes rapidly scanning the words.

“…Your name?”

“Leo.”

The shopkeeper clicked his tongue. “I see.” He straightened again, the drawer sliding shut. Aldas peered at Leo through those eyeglasses, and Leo stubbornly refused to look away. Internally, he was aware of the quickly reddening sky. Night would fall soon.

“And you claim to have the final payment installment.”

In response, Leo opened the bag, revealing the clinking coins within. He didn’t hand it to the man, however. As a store owner, he should have a class skill that let him count money at a distance, and he wasn’t handing a damn thing over until he knew he was getting those crests.

“I’ll need to see some form of identification.”

Leo silently pulled up his stat sheet, making sure to only display his name and nothing else. Aldas frowned.

“Show me your class.”

Leo froze for a second, but he quickly shook it off. From the gleam in Aldas’s eyes, though, the man had noticed his hesitation.

“I’m under no obligation to show you my class,” Leo said, words measured and precise. “You asked for identification. I’ve already proven my identity.” He didn't mention that no one in the slums ever asked to see your class; the stores usually didn't even ask for your name. He suspected the man wouldn't care for the slums' customs.

A thin smile spread over the shopkeeper’s features.

“On the contrary, I’m well within my right to verify your class whenever I deem it pertinent. I don’t see why that should be a problem.” Beady eyes narrowed into slits. “Unless you happen to have a more, ah, unsavory class.”

Leo wanted to say he’d never wanted to become a thief. That he’d tried over and over again to get an honest job, but got stopped the moment they asked to see his stat sheet. That even when he went months without stealing a thing, the [Thief] class remained stubbornly in place, as if the System was mocking him, telling him he could never change his ways. Telling him that deep down, no matter where he went, he would never be anything more than the scum of society.

That first year after meeting Allan, he hadn’t stolen a single thing. He’d watched Allan’s class easily change to [Rickshaw Puller] with a mixture of resentment, guilt, and anger at himself. He could only get minor jobs with his class, and eventually he’d had enough of watching Allan work himself to the ground and started stealing again. Even then, he still kept his pickpocketing small and did what he could to stay off official records.

And after all that, it looked like it wasn’t going to matter.

Leo inhaled, forcing his nerves to calm down. He pulled back the bag and tightened the drawstrings. This wasn’t going to work. The shopkeeper had no intention of letting him buy the crests, and as much as it stung, as much as his anger boiled to think of losing the rest of their savings, he was better off getting out with at least the current installment’s money.

Voice tight, Leo said, “Sorry for wasting your time.” He turned to leave.

Aldas clicked his tongue and waved a hand. Too late, Leo jerked around just as two guards came rushing inside. He hurried to put the coin bag away, but one of the guards grabbed his arm. Leo yelped in pain as the fingers squeezed, and his hold on the bag loosened enough for the other guard to grab it.

“Hey!” Leo stomped down on the guard’s foot, and he heard the man curse.

Wrenching himself free, Leo elbowed the second guard, but a punch to his stomach sent him sprawling. He gasped, struggling to regain his breath. The whole time Aldas watched impassively from behind the safe confines of the counter.

“On second thought, we’ll need to take these coins for inspection,” the shopkeeper drawled. “Once we’ve confirmed you haven’t earned them through illegal means, we’ll return them to you.”

“Bullshit,” Leo grounded out. He was never going to see that money again, not even when the majority of it was completely legitimate. He glared up at the dispassionate store owner, making sure to memorize his features, the tilt of his frown, the derision in his eyes.

Aldas’s voice was cold when he spoke.

“Take the rat away.”

A guard yanked him back, throwing him out onto the street. Another blow sent him to the ground, and Leo gritted his teeth and curled in on himself, protecting his vitals. He inhaled, waiting out the beating until the guards got bored. If he fought back now, he’d just end up in prison.

Wait it out, he told himself. He clenched his fingers. Just wait.

A heavy boot stomped down on his fingers, and he muffled a scream as bones cracked. His vision was starting to blur, his ears ringing as more and more hits rained down on him. He couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t feel anything past the rising pain.

A shadowy figure looming overhead, the hard floor, yells that barely sounded human, layers of aching bruises—

The next blow knocked him unconscious, and everything faded to black.

—

Leo groaned as his shoulder slammed into the brick wall. He paused, using it to keep himself upright as he struggled for breath. His entire body ached, and he squeezed his eyes shut, gritting his teeth and using [Renewal] once the cooldown was up.

The relief it provided was minor, but if he kept at it, eventually the worst of the injuries would be bearable. Aside from his broken fingers, clutched protectively close to his chest, everything else could be fixed.

His bag hung empty. Everything was gone.

The sun sunk quickly down, now halfway below the horizon. Leo shoved himself up and forced himself to keep going, half limping and tripping over himself as he made his way back. He had to hurry, he kept repeating to himself. Just a little further. It was almost night.

“Leo!”

A familiar voice sounded down the street, and footsteps pounded towards him. Leo couldn’t help but smile a little to himself, even as the action pulled on a bruise rapidly blooming across his cheek. Of course Allan hadn’t stayed still.

The [Rickshaw Puller]’s eyes widened as he approached, and he quickly grabbed Leo, steadying him just as he stumbled.

“What happened?” Allan’s voice was frantic as his eyes darted about, rapidly taking in the wounds. “Who did this? I—”

“Allan.”

Leo cut the man off, surprised at how even his own voice was. He exhaled a rasping breath.

“It’s almost nighttime. We need to get inside.”

Allan’s jaw clenched, and he breathed out, visibly calming himself.

“Right. Yeah. Of course.”

The [Rickshaw Puller] straightened, carefully grabbing onto the [Thief]. With one smooth, effortless motion, he swung Leo onto his back and hurried down the darkening streets.

Somehow, they managed to get through the building’s opening, and Leo gritted his teeth as his wounds were knocked into the edges of the crack. He didn’t voice any complaints though, and it wasn’t until they were fully inside that he slumped down, heaving for breath.

“The store,” he finally managed to get out. “There’s a new owner. Wallace’s gone. They’re executing him tomorrow.” His hand stung, and he attempted to shift it to a less painful position. He laughed roughly.

“I fucked up. I should’ve left the second I didn’t see Wallace.” Then they would’ve at least had something left, even if the earlier payments were lost. The fingers of his uninjured hand clenched into a fist.

Slowly, Leo raised his head. “They took the money, Allan. It’s all gone.” The [Rickshaw Puller]’s eyes widened, and Leo exhaled a shaky breath. “I’m sorry. All that work, and I—”

“Stop it.” Allan shook his head, eyes hard. “It’s not your fault. We’ll earn it back. It’ll be fine.” He swallowed, attempting a reassuring smile. “We’ve already done it once.”

“No.” This time Leo was the one who interrupted. He forced himself to straighten despite Allan’s protests, sitting up until he could look his friend in the eye.

“No more. I’m sick of this shit.”

Hazel eyes gleamed with determination. The world would never see them as anything more than slum garbage, so he’d keep doing what he did best. An honest job and life? Keeping their hands clean? For people like them, that had never been possible from the start.

“We’re gonna steal those badges.”

—

Name: Leo

Age: 24

Level: 17

Class: [Thief, Tier 0]

Personal Skill: [Judgement Lvl 2]

Strength: 13

Magic: 9

Constitution: 11

Agility: 19

Defense: 10

Resistance: 11

Mana: 16

Equipped Passive Skills (3/3): [Stealth Lvl 2], [Thievery Lvl 2], [Manual Dexterity Lvl 2]

Active Skills (3/8): [Mana Recovery Lvl 2], [Fade into Background Lvl 2], [Renewal Lvl 1]