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Stumbling and Tripping

🇪🇺Runslo
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Synopsis
"Life is soup, I am fork" - Pakalu Papito That was the best way to describe Nam's life. Expanding this soon(hopefully) --- This is a realistic fantasy. No plot armor, and if the main character dies - well, we'll get a new one.

Table of contents

Latest Update1
Thief3 years ago
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Chapter 1 - Thief

As the light of dawn shined on the western isles, one could see a city spanning from one end of the horizon to the other - standing with unchallenged splendor and magnificence. As the sun rose, steam-powered factories began opening with sounds of puffing and whirring. The street vendors, having awakened early to set up their stalls, attempted to catch the passersby's notice by showing off their goods. In a shadowy corner of the street, one could see a boy sneaking about.

His hair looked greasy, and his hands clearly unwashed. His body was small, at most 12 years old, and so malnourished you could see the bones through his clothing. Though, that wasn't that weird, as his clothes were rugged and full of holes. A few socky clothes were used insteadd of boots boots, and were were blue patches all over his skin.

He slowly walked to a stall selling bread, pretending to be a beggar by holding a bowl and asking for money. As he reached the stall he was aiming for, a sharp glint appeared in his eyes.

He quickly ran to the stall, snatched a few pieces of bread, and began running to the alleyways to the side of the road.

"Thief! Thief! Thief!"

He heard a furious bellow behind him. But that didn't matter. Afterall, it was quite easy to outrun the guards - and the problems if he were to be caught were far less than the hunger. The hunger that felt as if it would sear a hole in his stomach, the same one that threatened to devour him. It started when he was around 6, and only got worse from then. If at the start, it just seared the stomach, now, it felt as if his blood was whirling around his body, attempting to break free of his body by tearing it apart. And the worst part of it was that no matter how much he ate, it never ceased - just temporarily backing away, only to come back fiercer tomorrow.

As the boy jumped into the alleyways, despite the chaos in the streets, he managed to hear the sound of metal hitting stone in a quick rythm a few dozen meters from him - he had always had good hearing.

He ducked into a small hole - an manhole from where he had removed the cover a few weeks ago. As he jumped down into it, hitting the ground in a disorganized manner and hurting his legs, he heard a few voices echoe above, resounding in the stinking sewers.

"Do you thin' 'e jum'ed in 'ere?"

"Don' kno', an' n'ither do I care, Bob. Even if 'e jum'ed down there, I ain' goin' in that 'ell'ole, no dam' way am I doin' that."

"Yeah, you're probably right, the reward for cathin' 'im won' even pay for the cost of our clothes."

"So, we're sayin' 'e ran like the win'?"

"Yeah, they don' 'ave anythin' to prove us wron' - there is no way in 'ell they're gonn' believe the bystan'ers."

With those words, the steel boots walked away, and the young boy slowly breathed out. After waiting for a few hours, and eating a loaf of the bread he stole, the boy slowly climbed out the manhole by using the sticky moss on the walls as a ladder - a disgusting one, but one that worked.

As he crept down the alleyways, he felt a strong burning feeling fill his body, bringing along a surge of energy with it. This happened everytime it was noon, and it was the reason why he stole things in the day, and not the night, as without this energy, he would barely be able to walk.

He never questioned the power - or rather, he never had enough time and energy to wonder about it. Afterall, no matter what he did, the hunger always came, wanting more each time.

As he sighed, the lonely boy kept on walking down the twists and turns until he reached the slums, which were situated behind rows of houses, with not a single road leading to them.

'Afterall, such a disgusting place would blemish the 'Pride of man' as those filthy snobs liked to say. It's as if they don't blemish the 'Pride of man' by being the douchebags they are. Hypocrites, that's what they are.'

The boy spat down in disgust and hatred. However, nothing could be done, so he kept on walking forwards, entering the slums.

"Brother Nam, you're finn'ly 'ere! You 'ave to 'elp us!"