"Why is your current weight different from the last check? The last was 87 kg; now this is 65... How is it possible for you to lose 22 kg within a week!?" asked Silas in a sinister and ominous tone while staring into Griffin's eyes.
His left hand instantly turned to metal.
Griffin began trembling all over, and it was vivid...
Bam!
Suddenly, a distant gunshot echoed, likely from a Glock.
Officer Silas quickly backed away, his metal hand dissolving as he ran out of the alley and towards the source of the gunshot.
He didn't care to investigate Griffin further.
Griffin sighed with relief, his heart pounding hard as he placed a hand on his chest, a relaxed expression washing over his face. He fell against his door and turned his gaze into the room.
Instantly, he went inside and locked the door.
Gunshots, murders, robberies, and all sorts of crimes were a normal occurrence in the Lower District, although they typically happened during gang clashes or when a robbery in the Upper District went wrong.
Griffin moved around his room hastily, searching for something specific. He placed both hands on the workbench, his head bowed as he tried to think clearly about where he had put it.
"Where the heck did I place it...?" he muttered. Removing his hands from the workbench, he scanned the room.
Just then, he spotted torn clothes draped over an item.
He rushed over, tossing the clothes aside to reveal a book titled "A Guide To Box Making."
Flipping it open, he pulled out a piece of old brown paper and discarded the book.
The paper, written by his father, was somewhat faded—some words were missing, but not the important ones.
As he skimmed through it, he read:
"One day, you will figure out why everything is happening, the strange occurrences..."
Griffin had always struggled to understand his father's cryptic message, and he had long forgotten the paper inside the book until today, when he experienced mysterious changes—memories of abilities and a sudden realization that he could use them.
He stared at the worn-out paper for a moment before turning around with it in hand. He took a tiny cup from his bedside, opened the door, and collected a bit of rainwater from the ground.
Locking the door behind him, he poured the water onto the paper.
"I knew it... that old man always had a trick up his sleeve. Teaching every secret indirectly, making you piece it together without knowing the connection..." he mused.
The words slowly cleared, revealing new text. Griffin scoffed in dissatisfaction as he read the letter:
"I suppose you've attained enlightenment and finally opened the box if you're reading this. Great.
"Now, I have three things I want you to achieve diligently. I'm not asking you to save the world like a hero nor take revenge for us if we're dead..."
Griffin paused, muttering, "I know, old man—'revenge is stupid and has no definite gain, so it's a worthless thing.'" He recalled his father's words echoing in his mind from childhood.
His father was quite logical and had a thoughtful approach to teaching. By conveying lessons indirectly, he encouraged critical thinking and self-discovery, valuing understanding and insight over straightforward instructions. This indicated a deep, strategic way of thinking about life.
Griffin continued reading:
"One: Grow stronger and stronger. Each memory will come to you slowly, granting new skills. Adapt! Pain is inevitable, but remember, no pain, no gain. Grow in strength; this is not for the world but for yourself. Aim for high positions.
"Two: Don't let the world burn, even if it has committed so many crimes. Save it from itself, and if you realize it doesn't need saving, then don't. It's your choice—choose wisely.
"Three: This is a quest: destroy that monster race, just for fun. Hahaha! Be a good boy and do it! I'm not going to say sorry, goodbye, I love you, or stay strong. Instead, get your dead brain up and achieve."
Griffin hissed and rolled his eyes.
As heartless as always...
Well, I don't miss you either, and I'm not taking revenge for you, even if you're trying to manipulate my emotions. I shall attain all this, starting now. I don't know how you did this or anything, but I will see it through. Also, I will let the world burn...
He tore the paper and sat on his bed, lost in deep thought of the first step to take.
Right now, I should put all these skills to the test, but instead, I'll focus on making connections before entering the academy in a month. First, since I can reveal hidden truths—essentially figuring out lies—it's quite useful in this world. I'll start by meeting Aria.
Aria is the leader of a gang of five teenagers. She's a highly skilled mechanic, and they often sneak into the Upper District to steal mechanical items. Griffin once tried to join them, but they turned him down, mocking his weight and claiming he wouldn't be able to move swiftly or quietly.
However, that was over two years ago. Now, he could easily lie if she asked how he lost weight; any excuse would be believable. Plus, he has a stronghold now, so she won't be able to turn him down again for any reason.
He stepped out the door and locked it tightly. Before doing so, he had set a handmade trap: a sturdy iron rod rigged to swing down from a hidden hinge just inside the doorway. If anyone tried to enter, the rod would strike their legs, delivering a painful warning.
And if they staggered back in pain, another trap was positioned just behind the door—a weighted sack filled with heavy stones, suspended from the ceiling.
When triggered, it would drop down, knocking the intruder out cold.
It was a precautionary measure to protect his belongings. While they might not be valuable to thieves, they were worth a lot to him.
Taking a sharp breath, he stepped out of the alley and onto the street.
The street of the Lower District, Cogsworth Avenue, was quite chaotic so was every other street in the District. Coal workers hustled past, their faces smudged with soot, their clothes stained from the day's labour.
Steam hovered in the air from various vents and pipes, showcasing a thick, hazy atmosphere. The air was heavy with the scent of coal and oil, adding with the sharp tang of metal.
Mechanics, tools in hand, moved through the work crowd, their voices rising above the clatter of machinery. They chatted and laughed. The clang of hammers and the whir of gears filled the air, punctuated by the occasional shout of a foreman calling for order.
Despite the sensory overload, Griffin had grown accustomed to it all. The sights, smells, and tricks were all normal to him. He walked through the street with a hand placed behind his neck as he studied the surrounding, weaving between workers and carts laden with mechanical gears that drew in his interest.
A rascal trecked along his path, straight towards him. Griffin chuckled, knowing the trick about to go down while the rascal acted drunk. The man shifted a bit, their shoulders connected.
Griffin didn't apologize nor did the man, they went their ways. The man also seemed a bit disappointed; he wanted to rob Griffin but noticed their was nothing on him, Griffin knew of this.
In the District, it was advisable to walk without holding anything of value with you 'cause they're pickpocketers everywhere, every corner, every.... Shh!
Couple of seconds later, Griffin took a turn into the next street - Arcana Way, this was where she resides in.
His gaze swept around the street, searching for any watch officers - none was around the area.
He then turned into an alley, a warning text was written on the wall 'No trespassing, belongs to the Thorn Gang. Death awaits you if disobey this warning..'
"Whatever, Princess Aria of the Thorn Gang..." Griffin sarcastically thought, mimicking a mocking hand sign as he ventured deeper into the alley.
Suddenly, he felt the cold metal of a Glock pressed against the back of his head, followed by a click.
Panic surged through him, and he raised his hands in surrender.
"Who are you? And what are you looking for here? Didn't you read the warning, or are you blind?" a low-pitched female voice questioned.
Griffin took a deep breath, attempting to steady his racing heart. He recognized the voice as Aria's.
"Calm down, one question at a time. It's me..." He started to turn around, but the gun pressed harder against him, halting his movement.
"Don't try any stupid tricks; it will only lead to a faster death than what you're already facing after you answer the question..."
What does it matter if I answer? You said I'm going to die anyway. What are you, some quack gang leader?
Suddenly, an uncontrollable impulse surged through Griffin. In an instant, he spun around, knocking the Glock from her grip. Before it could hit the ground, he snatched it up, aiming it at her.
Both he and Aria were momentarily stunned by the swift turn of events.
Just then, two more gang members emerged from the shadows, guns drawn and aimed directly at him.
He sighed, bewildered. Where the heck do you guys get all these guns? Wait, those are advanced models from the Upper District...
The two guns were unlike the Glock: one was a Handvolve, a compact brown revolver with powerful .357 Magnum rounds, capable of delivering unhealable damage with each shot. The other was a BluePoint, high-tech semi-automatic pistol designed for deadly precision and speed, firing 9mm rounds that could easily pierce through any light armour.
Feels like I'm going to die here before I can explain myself... I keep moving uncontrollably.
In a flash, Griffin felt that same impulse again. He lunged forward, grabbing the two guns from the gang members' hands and sweeping their legs out from under them, sending them crashing to the ground.
Is this all part of the abilities I received? Is this like a bonus? A privilege gain or something?
With blinding speed, Griffin unloaded all three guns, the clicks of the empty chambers echoing in the alley. He tossed the weapons far across the ground, watching them skid to a stop. Then, he raised his hands back up in the air, a gesture of peace.
"Now can we talk like civilized people? Without guns pointed at each other?" He grinned undeniably.
I don't know what's taking over me, but it's definitely beneficial in this type of situation...
...
Couple of minutes later, Griffin stood in front of Aria and the other boys behind her, only a old wooden table divided the two set. They gave him a cold glare, likely annoyance towards him.
Aria, at 16 years old - 1 month till then, stood at 5'5, matching Griffin in height. She had tousled, chestnut hair that fell just below her shoulders, held back with a leather band to keep it out of her face.
They were all in an empty room, no gas pipes around, just pure brick and nothing else than the table.
She wore a fitted, dark blue leather vest fixed with various pockets and straps, perfect for storing tiny items. Underneath, was a simple earthy-toned shirt, slightly frayed at the edges.
Her pants were made of durable, blue canvas, slightly baggy but cinched at the ankles with leather straps. A pair of sturdy, knee-high boots, laced tightly. She wore black leather gloves and a utility belt slung low on her hips, equipped with a Glock and small mechanical devices.
Griffin admired the outfit. Oh man, this is so elegant. Better than the beggars fashion I'm wearing, but I'm okay..... Am I? He sniffed.
"So what do you want?' Aria asked, her brows furrowed.
He cleared his throat and placed a hand on his forehead. "I suppose you don't remember me, Aria Lambridge..
"It's I, Griffin, the one whom you denied due to being oversized and unfit to join the gang."
She gave him a side eye with disgust before snapping her fingers, "Oh, Oh, Oh! You! I remember, two years ago... Fascinating, you've suffered a lot and got lean to perfection. Fit with no difference..."
Should that be a compliment..? Ay, that doesn't matter..
"Anyway, I would like to join the gang and I can tell you, I'm a very good recruit you wouldn't want to let go.. By the way, I'd know or guess we're getting admitted into the Range Academy in a month and some days, so why don't we work together and gather resources? We can gain a lot from each other..
"Well, it's your choice - you don't have all the time in the world to decide you know. We could let the world burn, though."
The sentence "Let the World Burn" has now become Griffin's favourite. He has no hate towards the world nor does he love it, he's just a living organism in it and all are bound to die sooner or later... as he always says.
Aria noticed the honest look in his eyes, she jumped onto the table and sat in a cross-legged position with her face up close to him, her legs were comfortably folded beneath her. With her spine straight and elongated. Her hands were rested lazily on her knees. She grinned menacingly at Griffin, this time he wasn't fazed.
"Your whole new look makes you cute, I love it. However, if you want to join this gang then you have to complete a test. I see you have a good fighting skill from the disarming you did, now let's see if you can disassemble and reassemble a Handvolve..."
Griffin chuckled, and stared right back into her eye. "Shall I?"
It's just simple assembling; I only need to be concise, study it, touch each components and put back those components in their various places... It cannot be that hard.. I hope.
Aria stretched her hands backward for the holder of the gun to hand it over, quickly he did so. She then moved off the table and dropped the gun on it... The both of them gave each other a long look with a hint of fascination, or perhaps something else...
"You see that glare they're exchanging, it's called "psychopath romance"." The first boy whispered to the now unarmed one.
He replied in a hush tone, "What do you mean by that? They love each other, how?"
The first one quickly answered back with an annoyed glance at him, "Dumbass, that's not the meaning. It means they hate one another, likely can kill each other if let loose. It's how psychopaths show affection, they're emotionless beings and that's their "affection"."
"What!?"
"Idiot, you've been in this team for three years now and you don't know the boss is emotionless. Just pray hardly to your god that "Mr. Whatever he just called his name" doesn't join the team, precisely by failing that test..."
Griffin heard all their low chatter, but payed no attention to it. He was now focused on the gun..
Now let's focus, no cheating by using a skill, so focus, Griffin!
He steadied his hands as he prepared to disassemble it, he unscrewed the first components - a cylindrical barrel. The sound of metal grinding against metal shot out.
Grrrrrr!
Next, he lifted the barrel away, revealing the inner mechanisms. The three watched in utmost silence. The gears clicked and whirred as he removed the firing chamber, studying the next component. Each piece slid out easily.
Snick!
He laid the components on the table neatly. As he moved on to the trigger assembly, he pressed the release button, and it popped out. The sound was quite sharp. He then unscrewed the grip, the screws turned with a series of *click-click-click* as they came loose. It fell away, revealing the inner wiring, which he studied closely. All the components were now removed, he paused to admire it all with fascination and exhilaration. He couldn't hide his smile.
Wow, he actually succeeded in that... Aria looked at him, stunned.
The two boys' eyes widened in shock, terror and disbelief. Their pupils dilated, sparkling with astonishment as they stared at the disassembled components, swapping gazes to Griffin, each other, then the components. Eyebrows shot up, forming sharp peaks above their eyes, while their mouths fell open in perfect "0" shape as if gasping for breath. A bead of sweat trickled down one boy's forehead - sign of their nervousness, while the other froze in place. This was something they simply couldn't do, but Griffin did it within a matter of minutes.
Griffin smirked when he saw their faces, then he began the reassembly. He aligned the grip, sliding it back into place with a firm *thud*, He then twisted the screws back in. Next, he reattached the trigger assembly, the *pop* echoed again as it locked back. He slid the firing chamber back into place quickly and precisely. Finally, he secured the barrel, twisting it until it locked.
Aria clapped, excited. She removed a handful of bullets from her pocket, stunning Griffin by how she had so many in her pocket, about ten sharp bullets. She rolled them across the table to Griffin, he stopped it from falling onto the ground.
"Load it," she instructed, her tone remained causal. Griffin studied the gun once again, before he began inserting the first bullet into the chamber sharply, each round slid in smoothly. He finished loading the Handvolve within fifty seconds.
"This is..... amazing! You're so in, let's meet up here tomorrow, exactly 1 PM."
"...Just like that? Deal! I shall be here.." Griffin grinned, he looked around the room and noticed...