Morning filtered weakly through the cracks of the dilapidated shack as Alaric Vale stirred from a restless sleep. Even before his eyes opened, the nightmare of Cassian's estate surged vividly through his mind—the silent, ghostly assassin, the neatly arranged corpses, and the unsettling realization that he alone had walked away alive.
He turned slightly, meeting the gentle gaze of Lia—his younger sister, her snow-white hair catching faint strands of dawn. She offered a cautious smile, tinged with quiet worry.
"Morning," she said softly. "Axel mentioned yesterday's job was supposed to pay well. Did everything go alright?"
Alaric hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah. It went smoothly enough. I'm about to go pick up the payment."
Lia's eyes narrowed slightly, clearly unconvinced. But she didn't press further. "Just be careful, okay?"
He nodded again, grabbing his worn jacket and slipping out into the slum's cool morning air. The moment the door clicked shut behind him, Lia locked it carefully. The multiple bolts and the reinforced door were constant reminders of the danger she'd faced before—a danger that was always too close for comfort.
As he navigated the grimy, familiar streets toward Murdock's storefront, Alaric's thoughts churned. If news of Cassian's death hadn't spread yet, there might still be time to collect his wages without drawing unwanted attention.
He arrived to find Murdock unlocking the store, the overseer pausing abruptly when he spotted Alaric. For a brief instant, something flickered across Murdock's face—a split-second expression of surprise swiftly smoothed into careful neutrality.
"Alaric," Murdock greeted, masking his momentary shock with practiced ease. "You're early."
"Just came for my payment," Alaric replied casually, keeping his voice steady.
"Right." Murdock pulled out his phone, swiftly sending the money through. "Those Cassian jobs always pay decent."
Alaric's phone buzzed quietly, confirming the transfer. Relief mingled with suspicion as he met Murdock's unreadable gaze. "Everything good?"
"Yeah," Murdock said after a pause, studying Alaric carefully. "They didn't give you trouble over there, did they?"
Alaric forced an easy shrug. "No trouble at all. Just did what was asked and left."
Murdock nodded slowly. "Good. Keep it that way."
Alaric stepped away, feeling the overseer's eyes linger on him as he exited the shop. Though subtle, Murdock's brief look of surprise nagged at him, raising questions he wasn't yet prepared to answer.
Returning home, Alaric felt an instinctive unease. Eyes seemed to follow him through every alley, though when he glanced back, the streets appeared deserted. Shaking off the paranoia, he tapped the coded knock at the shack's door, and Lia swiftly opened it, visibly relaxing at his return.
"You're back quick," she said, locking the door behind him.
"Got the money," Alaric confirmed, holding up his phone. "We can get some decent food tonight. Maybe some new clothes for you."
Lia smiled gently but didn't argue. They sat at the small table, each with a bowl of watery soup, the routine familiarity offering a momentary reprieve from their harsh reality.
As Alaric ate, fragments of the previous night drifted back—particularly the ghostly cyan glow he'd seen before sleep claimed him. The memory tugged at him insistently, and before he realized it, he was concentrating, willing it to appear again.
Suddenly, faint cyan holographic text shimmered vividly into existence before him:
Do you wish to claim the Package?
Yes | No
Heart pounding, he mentally selected Yes, and immediately the display changed:
Package Claimed:
Poison Immunity (Passive)
Immunity to all toxins and venoms.
Slight Vitality Boost (Passive)
Provides a slight boost to stamina, endurance, and regeneration.
Scrap Dagger (Bound)
Basic Blade.
Eidetic Memory (Passive)
Perfect recall of all seen details.
Alaric blinked in disbelief. Poison immunity and eidetic memory? In a world as treacherous as theirs, where threats often came hidden and deception was everywhere, such boons seemed invaluable. And a dagger—while basic, it was at least reliable.
With a thought, he willed the dagger to his hand. Instantly, the rough-edged blade materialized, solid and reassuring in his grip. Another thought, and it vanished.
Lia glanced up at his sudden intake of breath. "Al?"
"It's nothing," he said quickly, offering a weak smile. "Just… got lost in thought."
She didn't seem entirely convinced but didn't press. As he returned to his meal, Alaric's mind spun with possibilities. This mysterious boon was his chance to finally gain control over their precarious lives.
Yet beneath the excitement simmered cautious doubt. He recalled Murdock's fleeting surprise and sensed layers to that reaction he couldn't yet unravel. Trust in the slums was always in short supply, but now even his closest contacts felt suspect.
After breakfast, Alaric stepped outside again, seeking solitude. He needed to understand this newfound power better, to test its limitations discreetly. But as he walked, his thoughts drifted inevitably to Murdock and the brief look of shock that had slipped past the overseer's practiced façade. Was it just surprise at seeing him unharmed, or was there something deeper?
Alaric shook his head. Not yet, he told himself. He couldn't afford paranoia clouding his judgment—especially when this mysterious ability seemed to offer genuine strength. First, learn the rules. Then deal with whatever comes next.
He flexed his fingers, calling forth the scrap dagger again. The blade appeared silently, a tangible sign of the path he'd stepped onto. Its weight in his hand felt promising, if uncertain. A first step.
He let it fade once more, feeling oddly reassured.
Back inside, Lia glanced up. "Better?"
"Much," he replied firmly, voice steadying. "We'll be fine."
She smiled, tentative but trusting, and Alaric resolved silently that he'd do whatever it took to keep that promise.