Akshran lay in the narrow alleyway, his breath ragged, the metallic taste of blood on his tongue. His body ached from the stab wound, the pain pulsating with each heartbeat. The wound was shallow, but it was enough to slow him down.

The whisper was gone.

No more disembodied voices guiding his every move. Just the cold, harsh reality that if he didn't act now, he would die again—this time for good. No magic, no second chance. It was just him and his mind.

He forced himself to sit up, pressing his hand against the wound to stop the bleeding. The alley was cramped, barely wide enough for one person to walk through without brushing against the walls. Behind him, the shouts of the men echoed louder.

Akshran's mind was already racing, thinking back to his old life. His skills as a psychologist hadn't just been about analyzing patients' minds; he had learned to manipulate people, to get into their heads. Predators, criminals, manipulators—he had understood them all, and now, he had to use that knowledge to survive.

He wiped his bloodied hands on his clothes, feeling the dirt and sweat mix with the crimson stains. His thoughts turned to the men chasing him. Thugs, likely hired muscle. They'd be angry, reckless, not thinking straight. 'That's my advantage.'

Footsteps thundered closer, and Akshran's pulse quickened. He glanced around, taking in every detail—the walls, the narrow exit, the faint sound of water dripping from somewhere above. The layout of the alley was a trap waiting to happen.

He had to turn it into his trap.

He staggered to his feet, using the wall for support, and moved quickly toward the end of the alley. His gaze darted upward. A ledge. It was old, the wooden planks rotting, but if he could reach it...

Footsteps. Louder now.

Akshran's heart pounded, but his mind remained clear. He grabbed an empty glass bottle from the ground, its surface slick with mud. A plan formed in his mind—simple, but effective.

He positioned himself behind a large stack of discarded crates and barrels, just as the first thug rounded the corner. The man, tall and muscular with a jagged scar across his cheek, was breathing hard, his eyes scanning the alley for any sign of movement.

Akshran crouched low, his hand tightening around the bottle's neck. He waited, listening to the man's heavy footsteps as he moved further into the alley. The others were still behind him—at least three more, from what he could tell. 'The leader,' Akshran thought, his criminal mind analyzing. 'He's the muscle, but he's not the brains. He's impatient.'

The man passed the stack of crates, oblivious to Akshran's presence. 'Perfect.'

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Akshran slipped out silently, the bottle in his hand swinging down with precision. It smashed into the back of the thug's head with a sharp crack. The man let out a grunt of surprise, collapsing to the ground in an unconscious heap.

Akshran didn't waste a second. He quickly dragged the body behind the crates, covering it with debris to keep it hidden.

The sound of the other pursuers grew closer. Akshran's mind was racing now. He glanced at the unconscious man's belt—a dagger, roughly made but sharp enough to be useful. He grabbed it, slipping it into his waistband.

'Time for phase two.'

He reached into the man's pocket, pulling out a small pouch of coins. The sound of footsteps made his heart race, but instead of panicking, Akshran grinned. 'This will work.'

He took the pouch and tossed it into the opposite end of the alley. The clinking sound of coins scattering across the ground echoed, grabbing the attention of the approaching men.

"Over there!" one of them yelled.

Akshran didn't wait for them to investigate. He leaped onto the nearby barrels, using his small, agile body to climb up the rickety wooden structure until he reached the ledge above. The boards creaked under his weight, but they held.

From his new vantage point, he watched as two more thugs rushed into the alley, their eyes scanning the ground. They saw the coins, greed lighting up their faces.

"Looks like the little rat dropped his loot," one of them said, grinning as he bent down to scoop up the coins.

'Predictable.'

Akshran's mind raced with a cruel satisfaction. In his former life, he had watched countless criminals fall into the same trap—greed overpowering their instincts. These thugs were no different.

While they were distracted, Akshran silently moved across the ledge, keeping low and out of sight. The alley was narrow, but if he could just get to the other side...

Suddenly, the wooden plank beneath his feet cracked.

Akshran's heart skipped a beat. He froze, holding his breath as the sound of splintering wood filled the alley. Below him, the thugs paused, looking around.

"Did you hear that?" one of them muttered.

Akshran gritted his teeth. 'Damn it.' His weight had shifted too much, and the rotting wood was starting to give way. He had seconds to act.

Without hesitation, he jumped.

His body twisted in mid-air as he grabbed the edge of a nearby balcony, his fingers barely gripping the stone. The sudden movement caused the ledge behind him to collapse, the wooden planks crashing down into the alley below.

"What the—!" one of the thugs shouted, startled by the debris falling from above.

Akshran didn't wait for them to recover. He pulled himself up onto the balcony, wincing as the pain in his side flared up again. 'No time to stop.' His body felt foreign, weaker than he was used to, but it was also faster, more agile. He had to use that to his advantage.

From his new position, he had a clear view of the alley below. The thugs were still disoriented, looking around for any sign of him. But they were too slow.

Akshran allowed himself a brief moment of satisfaction.'Outsmarted. Again.'

But the victory was short-lived. He couldn't stay here. The boy whose body he now inhabited was notorious in these streets, and it wouldn't be long before more came looking for him.

Akshran's mind churned with possibilities. 'How did this boy survive all this time? What was his next move?'

He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the memories of the boy filter through his own thoughts. He saw flashes—images of hiding spots, escape routes, secret alleys where no one dared to follow. The boy had been a master of deception, just like Akshran had been in his past life.

But now, it was different. This was Akshran's life. And he wasn't just a thief anymore.

He was something much more dangerous.

With that thought, Akshran turned, slipping into the shadows of the city, his mind already planning his next move.