"Wow, I must've sounded so cool just then!" The so-called "cool" Wanderer was currently kicking his feet and giggling inside of a stolen hotel room. Well, borrowed, according to him.
The Wanderer thought for a moment.
"Wait, is my new name The Wanderer, or just Wanderer..." Said Wanderer out loud. It was a very thought-provoking question, to which no one had any answers to.
Not even me.
As The Wanderer continued to giggle, thinking about what was most likely the only time in his life that he looked cool, High Heaven No. 3 interrupted over the mental channel.
"Having fun are we, Wanderer? Stupid name, by the way. Anyways. I'm calling to let you know that we've approved a few powers for you to use. Illusion Control, Time Stop and Mental Manipulation. It'll be used for your story ONLY, or we will take them back."
Illusion Control? Time Stop?? Mental Manipulation???
The Wanderer couldn't help but grin as he thought of the diverse ways in which he could use those powers.
"And you should probably start looking for a person to use as your MC," High Heaven No. 3 continued, "Popular choices are youths or people down on their luck."
"Yeah yeah, that's basic info. Everyone knows that good MC's are people at their rock bottom, since that way, we can rise them up. I know all this already."
"Just a reminder, brat." With that scathing remark, High Heaven No. 3 shut off the mental channel to leave Brat alone in his room again.
"WHO keeps changing my name? I am THE WANDERER!" The Wanderer shouted at the top of his lungs.
Knock! Knock! The door to his "borrowed" room started to open as a curious cleaner checked inside. But nobody came.
Click! As the door shut, Wanderer turned off Illusion Control. That was a close one. I should... probably stop yelling.
The Wanderer was left in silence to ponder once more. A good MC, huh? Someone down on their luck, preferably a young kid...
Alright. I got this.
Whoosh! Wanderer leaped out of the window while activating invisibility. It was time to search the darkest, most vile parts of the city.
...
"HEY! Where did that kid go!" A bakery was in uproar. Not a moment before had a small yet fast silhouette rush in through the door and take off with a customer's bag of baked goods.
"Damn it, not this again!" The local enforcement had been troubled by this thief for many months. No one knew who he was, what he looked like or where he went. But almost all of the stores in the vicinity suffered under his impressive speed and escape tactics.
They rushed to chase after the thief. Seeing the situation, the thief, a child dressed in black, swerved into a nearby alley. The police followed, passing by trash cans and debris, only to find no one at the end of the alley.
Crash! A noise at the entrance to the alleyway sounded out. A bin had toppled over, and the thief, who was hiding inside, pelted out. Grabbing a hold of the other bins, he toppled them too - creating a barrier of trash and cylindrical bins.
He spun around, tensed, and shot out like an arrow. By the time the police had backtracked to the entrance, the kid was already gone - gone with the wind.
...
Some called this infamous thief The Ghost, while others referred to him as Shadow.
But to those who knew him personally, he was just known as Cane.
Cane was just one among many of the abandoned children of the slums. Unwanted by his parents, perhaps because he was a forced child, or perhaps they simply didn't have the money to support him. Regardless, in the slums, it didn't matter why you were abandoned - only that you were abandoned.
Last name? Who knows? He could've been the son of a beggar or a discarded child from the richest family in the city.
Birthday? No clue. He could've been 15 or 19 for all he knew. Kids in the slum grew up too quickly anyways. It didn't really matter now.
No one had the chance to act their age. That was, until Cane stepped up.
All that mattered was that Cane was fast. And smart. And, unlike those detested grown-ups who were all selfish and such, Cane prided himself on how he helped the other kids.
"Lunch! Lunch, everybody! Guess what!!" As Cane's voice rang out through an "abandoned" apartment complex, a bunch of little heads poked out from the windows.
"Brother Cane is back!"
"What did you get this time!"
All the children were excited to see Cane come back, for it meant that he brought food. And high quality food, to be exact.
"I got you guys that stuff in the bakery!" Cane was excited too, since it was the first time he'd managed to steal so much in one go. Usually, he would have to take multiple trips.
Cane opened the bag and began to distribute the food. Baked apple tarts, custard rolls, soft white bread, buns with cheese and meat and all kinds of good things were handed out to the group of kids.
And... the bottom of the bag beheld a rare cake.
All the children hushed up at the sight, their eyes wide open. Most of the time, they weren't even allowed to come close to the bakery, stopped by guards before they could see the tiniest hint of cake. None had tasted any, either.
Cane stepped back and watched in satisfaction as they pounced on it, devouring the cake within moments. Holding nothing but the most basic bread, he smiled at the sight of them enjoying their food.
This... this is nice. I wish every day could be like this, Cane thought whilst the children went back to their hideouts within the building.
As Cane turned to leave, somewhere behind him a poster which read, "I hope that's not foreshadowing..." fluttered in the wind. It flew off its tape, revealing another poster behind that said, "too bad, it definitely is!".
...
"No, not him either..." The Wanderer was busy walking throughout the slums, beating up foolish gangs who thought he was easy prey. Along the way, he'd been looking for children but was severely disappointed.
It feels like they've all gone and hid together somewhere... Such thoughts crossed Wanderer's mind as he wandered through the maze-like slums.
Even though younger people was his top priority, he still checked for suffering people. Finding a suitable MC was in fact, not easy at all.
First, you needed to find a good personality. Not that the MC had to be some altruistic, all-good person. But they had to be consistent, likeable. Hypocrites, people with weak mindsets, people who gave up. Almost no one liked it when MC's were like that.
You also had to find someone with a good face. Despite what many claimed, good looks mattered a LOT. Sometimes, the only difference between good and bad was how it looked from the outside.
Then, they need a goal. Some meandering, slice of life story with no direction? Simply impossible to continue for too long - or else it becomes boring.
Lots of other factors existed. Luck. Weak-to-Strong. A flexible mind, for character development. Humourous. Rags-to-Riches.
And yet, all he could see, as far as the horizon went, The Wanderer found nothing but filth. Despondent, broken people. Dying, giving up - no goals, certainly no luck, weak minds. It wasn't their fault.
For such a city to exist - for some people to live lives of unimaginable luxury - an equal amount was taken from others. It was inevitable.
All he needed - the only thing Wanderer needed - was to find that one ray of light, that spark of flame hidden within this City of Sin. But the city is vast.
Almost endless. Endless luxury, endless wealth. Endless suffering, endless poverty.
The Wanderer was uncharacteristically solemn. Never in his life of play and mischief had he ever seen such things.
...
Back in the Heavenly Realm, High Heaven No. 1 watched Wanderer's face slowly fill with complex emotions.
At last... Could it be that the first lesson - regaining his humanity - has already been learnt?
High Heaven No. 1 shook her head to dispel the thoughts. No. I mustn't get complacent. He should learn more.
As she watched, an interesting scene unfolded. A young child - who she'd been observing for a while - and had determined to be the perfect MC template, was slowly but surely about to cross paths with The Wanderer.
Cane and Wanderer. I wonder how they'll interact.
...
Slam!
The Wanderer grabbed a thug and suplexed him into the ground. Without missing a beat, he used Time Stop, walked behind the thug's battered body, and punched forward while turning off Time Stop.
To any onlooker, or, perhaps, one onlooker, it would look like he moved so fast that he couldn't be seen.
Cane was watching hiding and watching Wanderer at that moment, eyes wide at the sight. He couldn't help but think, If I had that kind of power, I would definitely make those guards pay.
Just as The Wanderer had turned to leave, Cane spoke up.
"Wow! Mister, could you teach me how to do that?" Wanderer froze in place.
The Wanderer slowly turned around.
He saw a young child, with dark brown hair and olive skin. Dirty. Filthy. But in his eyes, there was a flame.
A child?
He began to grin behind his mask.
In the slums? Sounding so lively, looking like someone with hope?
That spark... that ray of light in darkness...
Had he found it?
At that moment, Cane also saw him fully for the first time.
A pitch-black cloak, ambiguous in shape, almost shifting even now.
A pale-white mask, without even any eyeholes.
Is he even human?
He began to grin whilst staring at Wanderer.
This kind of look... That kind of fighting skill...
His one chance to break free - to get stronger, to save the slums...
Had he found it?