Kaleb leaned against a wooden post outside a quiet corner of the village, his new bag of supplies resting at his feet. The soft hum of activity around him was calming, but his thoughts were far from settled.
The Raiden system's mark pulsed faintly beneath his shirt, its presence a steady reminder of his newfound path. Kaleb's fingers brushed the edge of the bag, his mind drifting back to the clan that had cast him out.
He clenched his fists, anger and frustration bubbling beneath the surface. "One day, they'll see what they threw away," he muttered under his breath.
The sounds of the village grew louder as merchants called out their wares. Kaleb scanned the street, his sharp eyes picking out details in the bustling crowd.
Most of the villagers moved with purpose, their faces lined with the weariness of daily life. Traveling traders laughed and haggled, their voices rising above the murmur of the crowd.
Kaleb spotted a small stall selling knives and basic tools. The blades caught the sunlight, their sharp edges gleaming.
He approached the stall, his hand brushing the jagged edge of the sword piece. The memory of his death, made his angry.
The merchant, a wiry man with a wide grin, looked up as Kaleb stopped in front of the display. "Looking for something better, lad?" the man asked, his voice cheerful.
Kaleb nodded, his gaze fixed on a medium-sized hunting knife with a sturdy handle. "How much for this one?" he asked, pointing to the blade.
The merchant leaned forward, inspecting Kaleb with sharp eyes. "For you, let's say four shards," he said, tapping the counter with his fingers.
Kaleb's jaw tightened as he reached into his bag, pulling out the last of his trading items—a spirit beast claw. He placed it on the counter without a word.
The merchant's eyes widened as he picked up the claw, turning it over in his hands. "You've got something special here," he said, his tone impressed.
Kaleb's voice was steady as he replied, "Is it enough?"
The merchant nodded quickly, setting the claw aside. "More than enough," he said, handing Kaleb the knife. "Take care of it. It's a fine blade."
Kaleb sheathed the new knife at his belt, the weight comforting. He gave the merchant a curt nod before stepping back into the busy street.
The hum of the Raiden mark grew slightly louder, catching Kaleb's attention. He ducked into an empty alley, his eyes narrowing as the glowing screen appeared.
The system displayed a new message:
[New Task: Investigate the Village's Unrest]
Kaleb frowned, his brow furrowing as he read the words.
"What unrest?" he muttered, glancing back toward the crowded street. The villagers had seemed ordinary, if a little tired.
The screen shifted, displaying a map of the village with a glowing marker near the edge of town. Kaleb studied the map, committing the location to memory.
His fingers brushed the hilt of his new knife as he stepped back into the street. The mark's hum steadied, its warmth guiding him toward the edge of the village.
Kaleb moved through the crowd, his movements deliberate but unhurried. He kept his head low, his sharp eyes scanning for anything unusual.
As he approached the outskirts, the atmosphere grew quieter. Fewer people wandered here, and the air felt heavy with tension.
The marker on the map led him to an abandoned warehouse, its wooden walls weathered and cracked. Kaleb crouched behind a pile of crates, his sharp senses on high alert.
He heard faint voices inside the warehouse, their tones hushed but urgent. Kaleb's hand tightened on his knife as he crept closer, his footsteps silent.
The voices grew clearer as he neared a broken window. "This is the last shipment," one voice said, its tone sharp. "The boss doesn't want any delays."
Kaleb peeked through the window, his eyes narrowing as he saw a group of men unloading crates. Their movements were quick, their faces tense.
One of the men glanced toward the entrance, his hand resting on the hilt of a sword. "We've got company," he said, his voice low but firm.
Kaleb ducked out of sight, his heart pounding as he pressed his back against the wall. He clenched his knife tightly, his mind racing.
The screen flashed before his eyes again, displaying: [Engage] or [Observe?] Kaleb frowned, weighing his options. He tapped on [Observe] the words fading as the screen disappeared.
He crouched lower, his eyes darting back toward the window. The men were moving quickly, their actions methodical and practiced.
Kaleb's sharp hearing picked up their conversation. "This will fetch a high price in the next town," one of them said, tapping a crate. "The Tidecallers won't know what hit them."
Kaleb's brow furrowed as the name struck a chord. The Tidecallers were another family that made up the Stormborn Clan, one his parents had mentioned in passing. The Raiden mark pulsed, its glow faint but steady. A new message appeared, displaying:
[Investigate Further. Gather Information]
Kaleb gritted his teeth, his instincts urging caution. He moved closer to the warehouse entrance, his steps silent as he slipped inside.
The air was heavy with the scent of wood and old metal. Kaleb kept to the shadows, his sharp eyes scanning the room.
The men worked quickly, their focus on loading the crates onto a cart. Kaleb spotted strange markings on the crates, unfamiliar but unsettling.
One of the men turned suddenly, his eyes narrowing as they scanned the room. "Did you hear that?" he asked, his hand moving to his weapon.
Kaleb froze, pressing himself against the wall. His breathing was slow and controlled, his knife ready in case he was discovered.
The man stepped closer, his footsteps echoing softly. Kaleb's grip on his knife tightened as he prepared to strike.
Suddenly, the Raiden mark pulsed brighter, a faint crackle of energy running through Kaleb's body. He felt his reflexes sharpen, his muscles tense and ready.
The man stopped, his eyes narrowing at the shadows. "Must've been a rat," he muttered, turning back toward the group.
Kaleb let out a slow breath, his chest rising and falling quietly. The screen appeared again, displaying:
[Avoided Detection. Continue Gathering Information.]
He moved further into the warehouse, his steps careful and deliberate. The men's voices grew louder as they argued about their next move.
Kaleb crouched behind a stack of crates, his eyes scanning the room. His gaze locked onto a small journal resting on a nearby table.
The journal looked worn, its edges frayed from use. Kaleb's instincts told him it might hold the answers he needed.
He waited until the men were distracted, their attention on the cart. Moving quickly, Kaleb darted toward the table, his movements smooth and precise.
He grabbed the journal, slipping it into his satchel before retreating to the shadows. His heart raced as he crouched low, the tension in the room thick.
The men didn't seem to notice, their focus still on their work. Kaleb took a deep breath, his eyes darting toward the warehouse entrance.
The screen flashed again, displaying: [Leave Undetected or Engage?] Kaleb tapped [Leave] his mind set on avoiding a direct fight.
He slipped out of the warehouse, his movements swift and silent. The night air felt cool against his skin as he moved back toward the village center.
Kaleb found a quiet spot near an old fountain, sitting on the edge as he pulled out the journal. He flipped through its pages, scanning the notes and markings.
The entries were cryptic, filled with references to shipments and payments. Kaleb's eyes narrowed as he read mentions of the Tidecallers and other clans.
The Raiden mark pulsed again, its glow faint but steady. A new message appeared:
[Return to Village for Further Guidance.]
Kaleb closed the journal, his mind racing with questions.