Aeron stepped out of the ramshackle excuse of a house, the dim light spilling across the uneven ground. His sharp gaze took in the surroundings—crumbling structures, crooked alleyways, and a lingering stench of decay. The air was thick with dust, making it hard to breathe.
He paused, frowning. "Wait... is this a magical world? I haven't seen anything remotely magical so far."
The book materialized in his hand, its voice tinged with a faint amusement.
"Magic exists, but you're in the slums, Aeron. This place is for the forsaken—a pit where useless beings who were unfortunate enough to be born human are discarded."
Aeron's brow furrowed. "Useless beings? You're not making any sense."
"Look around. The slums are lawless and brutal. Humans are at the bottom of the hierarchy here, enslaved and exploited because of their versatility. Their organs, labor, and even their very lives are commodities. In contrast, beings like elves, dragons, and other creatures thrive, dominating the world above."
Aeron's lips twitched into a humorless smile. "So, humans are just... tools?"
"Precisely. But don't worry, Aeron. You're not just another human. You're different."
The subtle emphasis in the book's voice unsettled him, but he brushed it aside.
---
Aeron's gaze drifted to the thin figures stumbling past, their eyes hollow and faces gaunt. A sudden thought struck him, and he couldn't help but voice it.
"Wait, if humans are at the bottom, then... does that mean the anatomy of other races is different? Organs? Structure?"
Excitement bubbled within him at the thought. He imagined peeling back layers of unfamiliar skin, exploring organs he'd never seen, dissecting creatures with alien anatomies. The possibilities were endless.
"Ooh, you're excited," the book chimed. "I wouldn't say their anatomy is entirely alien, but yes, the differences are significant. The more unique the race, the more unique their structure. But don't get ahead of yourself. You're far too weak to act on such ambitions now."
Aeron smirked, his eyes gleaming. "We'll see."
---
"Fine," Aeron said, his stomach growling audibly. "How do I even start using those rewards?"
"I'll provide detailed instructions once you've eaten and settled. Who knows… this might be your last meal."
The casual delivery made Aeron's eye twitch. "That's not funny."
"It wasn't meant to be," the book replied, vanishing into thin air.
Aeron gritted his teeth and took a deep breath. The ache in his stomach was gnawing at his concentration. With a determined stride, he began moving through the winding streets, careful to keep to the shadows.
--
The slums' market wasn't a bustling hub of commerce; it was a chaotic mess of desperation. Merchants shouted over one another, their wares spread on filthy cloths. The smell of sweat, rotting food, and unwashed bodies clung to the air.
Creatures of various shapes and sizes roamed the area, some towering over the stalls, others slithering between the crowds. Aeron spotted a lanky figure with pointed ears—an elf—barking orders at a group of humans carrying crates.
He moved cautiously, his sharp eyes scanning for anything edible and affordable. He finally spotted a stall selling what looked like bread and dried meat. As he reached for his coin pouch, a commotion erupted nearby.
A group of thugs shoved a scrawny man to the ground, their laughter echoing through the market. Aeron tensed, slipping into the crowd to avoid drawing attention. The thugs glanced his way, their eyes lingering for a moment before turning back to their victim.
Close call, he thought, quickening his pace.
---
Aeron managed to buy a small bundle of food—a few hard slices of bread and a piece of dried meat. It wasn't much, but it was enough to keep him going. As he turned to leave, he caught sight of a reflective surface on a nearby stall.
He froze.
The person staring back at him was a shadow of his former self. His body was wiry and frail, his face pale and gaunt. The bruises and cuts from his earlier ordeal only made him look worse.
"No wonder this kid died before the enemy even got to him," Aeron muttered bitterly. His lips curled into a sardonic smile. "Pathetic."
But as he stared at his reflection, a flicker of determination sparked in his eyes.
This body may be weak, but it won't stay that way for long.
--
As Aeron made his way out of the market, he felt eyes on him. His pace quickened, and he kept his head low, blending into the crowd. A large orc-like creature lumbered past him, its hulking frame blocking the path. Aeron ducked into an alleyway, clutching his bundle of food tightly.
Once he was far enough from the chaos, he exhaled shakily, leaning against a wall.
"Home," he muttered to himself. "Get home first. Figure out the rest later."
---
When Aeron finally reached his dwelling, he collapsed onto the wooden slab he called a bed. The impact sent a jolt of pain through his already battered body.
"Never in my life…" he groaned, trailing off as exhaustion overtook him.
Despite the hunger clawing at his stomach and the pain wracking his limbs, a faint smile tugged at his lips. He'd survived another day, and that was enough for now.
---