Akshran moved like a shadow through the narrow alleys of Jhaari, his gaze locking onto the crumbling warehouse ahead. His lips twitched with something close to satisfaction—or was it anticipation? Hunger gnawed at his insides, his stomach tight from days without food. The last scrap the Little Kid had given him was long gone, and every step begged him to stop, to rest.

Just a bit further. You've endured worse, he reminded himself. That was in another life, though. A life left behind.

Inside, the merchant was hunched over a pile of goods, rearranging them with greedy hands. He was a hulking man, belly so large he had to lean to see over it.

"Kekeke, you finally made it," the merchant rasped, his grin as broken as his yellowed teeth.

Akshran's eyes flicked over him, mock confusion on his face. "You weren't this fat yesterday."

The merchant's laugh sounded like nails scraping wood. "You don't get it yet, do you?"

'That you were in disguise yesterday?' Akshran thought.

"That I was in disguise yesterday," the merchant said, the grin stretching wider.

"Right... but what happened to you? If weight had a limit, you'd have broken the scales," Akshran said, eyebrow raised.

The merchant's face twitched. "What did you just say?"

"Just that they don't make scales for your kind of bulk. You've redefined 'plus-size.'"

The merchant's patience snapped. "IF YOU DON'T STOP—"

"And those poor animals, haven't they suffered enough oil spills because of you?" Akshran shot back, feigning concern.

The merchant froze, his shoulders drooping. He shuffled toward the window, staring at the stagnant pond below.

Akshran's voice dropped. "Maybe if you jump, you'll finally lose a few pounds."

The merchant turned, red-faced. "Are you serious?"

Akshran shrugged. "Though with your mass, you'd probably just displace the whole pond."

The merchant, Lauda, fed up with Akshran's mockery, clapped his meaty hands together. From the shadows emerged three men, muscles bulging beneath their clothes, laughter shaking their frames. They brandished machetes, their eyes gleaming with malice. Akshran's heart skipped for a moment—he recognized them. His eyes widened.

"YES! These are my men!" Lauda boomed, his chest swelling with pride. "I've gathered them to crush your pathetic schemes, Little Kid. Do you recognize them? Some of the very fools you robbed! Today, I'll show you the true power of Lauda Lassan!"

Akshran shifted his stance, but kept his face unreadable, while Lauda continued, puffing himself up like some bloated rooster.

"I shall now reveal my grand plan—"

Akshran cut him off, voice sharp, "Shut up, fatty. I know the drill. You saw me slipping through the crowd, didn't you? Played the perfect idiot, made me think I had you fooled. I saw it in your eyes then—figured you'd lure me here for your grand ambush." His tone never wavered, eyes locked on Lauda. "I went along with it because I wanted to see what you'd do."

Lauda stammered, his smug grin faltering. "W-what? You knew? Well, no matter! You can't take on all four of us at once!" He gestured to his men, and their laughter bubbled up again like mad dogs.

"Kekeke," Lauda chuckled again, forcing himself back into the role of the menacing villain. "I will rule Jhaari, Little Kid. I'll see your corpse beneath my feet."

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Akshran's lips twitched in disdain. "You're a peculiar one, aren't you? Already imagining victory, parading it before you've earned it. Victory isn't something to proclaim, Lauda. You don't tell the world you've won—you show them."

Lauda's grin faded into something darker, eyes narrowing. "Enough talk. Boys, get him."

The men charged, machetes raised, chanting a strange, guttural cry—"HU HU HU HU"—as they barreled toward Akshran.

But Akshran was ready. In one swift motion, he lit a match and tossed it toward the oil-soaked rags by the entrance. Flames sprang up, sending a dense cloud of thick, choking smoke spiraling through the air. It billowed across the warehouse, shrouding the room in a suffocating fog.

Then came the sounds—crashing from every corner. Akshran had tied small rocks and bits of debris to ropes, connected to high shelves. He pulled them with swift tugs, sending chaos echoing from all directions. The men stopped in their tracks, their eyes darting from side to side, confusion flashing across their faces.

"He's over here!" one of them shouted, spinning toward the noise.

"No, he's there!" yelled another, machete raised.

"NOOO!"

A voice, sharp and mocking, cut through the smoke. "I'm here, boys."

"Wait—no, over here!" the voice came again, ricocheting through the space.

Lauda's men were frantic now, spinning like puppets caught in a cruel game, their fear rising with every passing second.

"I'm here... no, here..." Akshran's voice echoed again, from everywhere at once. His footsteps were silent, his movements unseen, while their desperation grew.

Lauda's voice trembled as he watched the chaos unfold. "This kid... he's using cheap tricks. Fall back, we'll retreat for now," he urged, desperation leaking into his words as he waved his men toward the exit.

They barely made it two steps before the trap snapped shut.

Glass shards flew through the air like a swarm of hornets, slicing into the fleeing men. Their cries filled the warehouse, raw and jagged. Lauda clutched at his face, blood pouring from his ruined eyes. The others weren't spared—sharp daggers buried themselves deep into their flesh, carving into their abdomens with a sickening wet sound.

"AHHHHHH!" Lauda's scream was animalistic, guttural, his body lurching as he doubled over, blood gushing from between his fingers, dripping down his bloated belly.

Panic surged through the men as they staggered toward the exit, but there was no escape. Their feet snagged on a hidden tripwire, snapping it tight. A wooden plank swung down from above, sharpened to a deadly point. It slammed into their faces with brutal force, the sound of wood crushing bone echoed in the suffocating air.

One man collapsed, hands clawing at his face as the plank buried itself deep, destroying his eyes. His scream was high-pitched, shrill, like an animal caught in a trap. His body convulsed as blood sprayed in every direction, staining the floor in wide arcs. Another man, still standing, writhed in agony, his eyes a mess of torn flesh and broken shards. His machete dropped from his trembling hand, useless now as his life drained from him.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHH!" The warehouse was filled with their screams, rising and falling in waves, like the dying throes of something monstrous.

Akshran stepped forward, calm amidst the carnage. His eyes gleamed with a cold satisfaction, watching the men's bodies crumple under the weight of his traps. Lauda lay beneath him, writhing, blood oozing from his wounds, pooling beneath him. Akshran pressed his boot down hard on Lauda's head, forcing his face into the dirt.

"You really thought I'd come here without a plan?" Akshran's voice was sharp, dripping with mockery. He leaned in closer, his foot grinding into Lauda's skull. "I *told* you I knew what you were up to. You still came at me with your chest puffed out, thinking I'd just walk into your trap and die. Dumbass. Did you really think if I knew your plan, I'd just stroll in here without precautions?"

Lauda spat blood, his breath ragged, his voice a gurgling rasp. "The materials... how the hell did you get all of this? You don't have the money for—"

Akshran smirked, stepping off his head. "Oh, that? I'm smart, Lauda. Doesn't take much to get creative when the city's already rotting around you."

He glanced at the makeshift traps, scattered glass, old oil barrels leaking their contents, broken beams tied together with rotting ropes. His work was crude, cobbled together from the refuse of Jhaari's forgotten corners.

*'Heh,'* Akshran thought, surveying the bloody scene. *'If only they knew how little I actually needed. Just some old bottles, broken glass from the trash heaps, oil from those rusting barrels in that old storage house. A few ropes, some beams ready to splinter... and they didn't even notice.'*

Lauda whimpered beneath him, eyes swollen and ruined, face pressed into the cold floor as blood continued to seep from his wounds. The remaining men lay scattered around, their bodies twitching, their breath slowing.

Akshran looted their pockets, his hands moving swiftly as he gathered whatever they had left to give. 100 Copper Coins, a few valuables,3 machetes, and a book of merchant sales and one barrel filled with food, anything that could be sold. He paused only to cast one last glance at Lauda, his voice low, barely above a whisper.

"Goodbye, Lauda. Try not to bleed too much before you die."

And with that, Akshran slipped into the shadows, leaving them to rot in the blood-soaked warehouse.