I woke to a splitting headache, feeling very weak as my stomach painfully growl at me. I as if I have been starving myself for days. Laying there as my arms held against my stomach wondering why I am on a dirt floor. Slowly I begin to take in my surroundings as my eyes latch upon the ceiling of the lean-to that looks to be made of rotten wood. The last thing I remembered was that I must have had a heart attack at the age of sixty-one. One day after, I decided to retire from being one of the best cat burglars around. I had enough money to live like a king for the next fifty years if I live that long. Apparently, I didn't. Instead, I died five steps from a plane that was going to take me to an island, where I purchased a villa to live out my remaining days in peace. The only regret I have, was the fact I died alone. Sure, I had friends with benefits, but I never let anyone get close me, because of my profession. All those years of working independently, thinking tomorrow I can find someone to balance out my life. Well, that is what is call regrets. So where am I, and why am I alive?

Laying there wincing in pain as the memories of a young kid slam into me. He must have been abandoned at about eight. Barely getting by as he tries to pickpockets and steals food. Which only leads to his death from starving to death because he was shank by some punk. This boy got pinned in an area between the Eastern Slum or Pol District and a sixty-foot wall of the main city. The Pol District stops at the Smuggler District to the east along the city's wall to the north. The Smuggler district runs south along the Kapa Bay that is part of the Sea of Distress. The low water in the area keeps large ships from docking, so the city let the slum and fishermen control the Fishermen Wharf area, which is part of the Smuggler District. Having been chased out of the Dal District, the Southern slums, to the west of Pol District by the Red Guards. A local mercenary group that a bunch of merchants hires to take out the deviant population in the area to raise the value of the area. Then getting shank a few days later was something the boy didn't expect, nor was the fact that he was starving to death because he was too weak to hunt for substances. Sorting through the memories, he realizes that the Jasmine Gang of ten boys and three girls were the ones that attacked him as he moves to another location.

The real reason he flew from his home in the southern slum were the giant spiders about the size of dinner plates attack the last place he was hiding in. Forcing him to flee the Dal district. Only to leave behind what little he has gathered over the previous few months. It seems to be an everyday thing for the boy to accumulate stuff and flee every month for the last nine years. Due to lousy karma, to run into Jasmine Gang and get shank as he fled the spiders. Looking at the rags he is wearing and the grime that covers it and himself. I realizes he has not taken a bath in years. If you don't count the rain, it only made him shudder. My OCD to keep clean and organize wants to kick in, made me to shuddering again. Shivering a bit from the lack of warmth, i sats up, while looking around. Speaking of weather, winter will set in a few months from now, and no blanket or warm place to stay. It is going to be hard to survive.

It was amazing at how the boy had survived since he was eight years old. At that age, I barely remembers getting in trouble at my own home with my parents. Glad that I had good parents for that, other than leaving myself destitute in the States before I fled to Europe when I was just eighteen after they died. Which I went about creating a fake background. The ability to build a persona of a European aristocrat was easy after a few years. That and the ability to steal that I use to burglar some of the wealthiest people I could find. Oh good old years. Laughing that sent me into a painful coughing fit. Centering my thoughts, I never stolen items with symbolical value, only stuff that can sell fast, and then travels to the next city. Symbolical things cause all types of trouble that cause people to go to the extreme to get them back. I have to admit except for the first year I never stole from the poor or middle class. Like Robin Hood of old I gave away half my ill gotten earning to the poor.

Sitting with my back to the wall, I poured through the boy's memories of the Pol District. One thing, it is a mixture of western and eastern culture mixed in with other cultures thrown into a bowl and tosses together to form this hodgepodge of a medieval world where magic and I dare say it. Yes, magic survives here. Out of the one percent of the population that are noblemen, only one percent of them are magical. I can feel a little bit of magic in myself. It is like an electrical current running through you when you activate the energy. Just touching it surprise me, considering the boy never knew he had power. It must have been because i have arrived here from beyond? Having no idea how to cast a spell, I will leave it for later. There are heroes here most of them dives into places called dungeons. Where they slay monters for treasure. I will set that thought aside for later, because I really have no understanding. Sure I heard stories from teens in my world about them in games but I was too busy building my empire of dirt.

To the north is the wall that divides the rich from the Pol District. Most of the walls have a stone building built right up against the sixty-foot wall. That look abandons but eerier and scary to the boy. I should say the boy name instead saying boy, well in truth he really a teenager. Focus, there is no rhyme or reason to the alleyways of the slums, most of the buildings would fall to the ground if they were pushes too hard or burns if torched.

This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

Now tjhe fisherman wharf is on the eastern side of the Pol District is a nothing but a collection of fishermen ships and smuggler ships that can handle the low water. Docked together to wooden jetties. While the Wharf District in the city is the deepwater port for the city. Overall the area smell of death, urination and feces, of the tens of thousands of people crammed into the area.

Staring at my young hands of maybe a youth of seventeen years, considering the boy didn't count the years, so I don't know his age. I am a half-elf race that is rare in this port city of Eddenshire, a population of a million or more souls that busy all day and most of the night. Elves look down upon the various short live races and frown upon half-breeds the most. The elves have no love for any race but their own and control the forest to the west across a small river that the boy heard about but never seen. Every few dozen years, the city is attacked by the orc races that ride in on two-legged lizard-like steeds that look like raptors. They attack by the thousands from the plains to the south. Whenever they find a war chief that can gather several clans together, they attack. There are four reasons they fail. The first is the city's powerful military might. The second are tall walls, the massive slum between the plains and the wall, and their own bickering within the different orc clans upon the plains. But it is the citizens of the slums that take the brunt of the attacks. The military only responded after the orcs have made it a quarter of the way into the slums. Because the orcs get sidetrack with killing, raping, and looting. Leaving behind thousands of half-breeds. The noblemen do not care for the people outside the walls because they do not pay any taxes.

The boy has no real name other than half-breed, hey you, or punk. My original body was called Jack McLac, who was from old aristocrats that were broke when he took over his father's inheritance when his father died. Or so I create that background to turn to a life of crime to survive. No manor or land to hold me down. I travel as an aristocrat around Europe. The feeling of traveling has left me long ago. I stop looking at the beauty around me and start seeing Marks. That was the reason for a tropical island life to relax and enjoy the beauty. I guess dying made me see I need something in my life. Sadly this boy has nothing to fall back on to survive. No name, family, or friends. In a city with several hundred districts and a population of a million people crammed into a hundred square miles, some of which is behind several walls. Thousands of gangs living with a few blocks as their territory. Not travel outside their own area they grew up in and later died in is sad.

Quarter or more, the population works the fields or the bay for survival. Twenty percent of the population is military or guards. While ten percent are adventurers that hunt in several protected dungeons or the surrounding area, keeping it safe from demon beasts. The adventurers are small. They fuel the economy of the inter-city. While about fifteen percent of the population are merchants, only two percent are the wealthy noblemen who live in the affluent area near the center surrounded by a higher wall and protected by elite guards. The rest are too lazy, weak, or poor that barely are surviving. Which means he is one of the weak and inadequate that survive from day today.

There is a sewer entrance a few hundred feet from where he is hiding. Narrow, damaged stone stairs wide enough that they twist their way down, leading to a rotten door at the bottom. A door that isn't locked and has a large hole at the bottom that has been gnarl on. There should be rats below in the sewer that can be killed for food. But the large holes may mean there giant rats below. Maybe the boy is not smart enough to trap a rat doesn't mean I can't. Using a broken stick to dig up some worms along the walls of the building. Eating a few worms was not pleasant but going a few weeks of no food is not worth dying over. Hearing a few squeaks from rats when I made it to the sewer below from the damaged stone steps. I found a piece of broken wood from one of the buildings that were falling in around the area.

Setting up a dead drop trap using a few worms that I pulled apart and left below the wood holding a flat stone I found by the broken steps. Looking right and left into the darkness that is like twilight near the exit because of my elven heritage. I saw a rat in the distance. Hoping to kill something. I hid up on the steps and waited. Two hours later, the trap kills a rat almost the size of a cat. Well, not quite it took me stomping on the rock to smash the head in.

Panting from the workout, I mutter to myself. "I wish I know what is going on? People called Adventurers get a flat Jade that can tell them what their stats are. Wish we came just say 'Stat' and they appear." A scroll appears in my view that he can see through. Surprise, I fell on my butt, almost falling into the sewer water below me. The scroll shows what my stats were.

Name: Jack Mclac

Race: half-elf

Age: 17, soul age (65)

Rogue /modified/ Thief three

Physical (5) 3

Dexterity (5)7

Mental (5) 6

Charm 5

Hit points: Phy + Mental 2/9

Skills

pickpocket (Dex/2) (+4)+ 3 = 7

Burglary (Dex/2) (+4)+ 6 = 10

Blunt weapon (Dex/2) (+4) +1 =5

Piercing weapons (Dex/2) (+4) +1 =5

Lock picking (Dex/2) (+4) +3

Traps (mental/2 (+3) =1 = 4

Climbing (Dex/2) (+4) +1 =5

Backstab x1.5 (+1) = x2.5

Hide in Shadow 15%