Chapter 2:
Greyhook Does Not Forgive
Greyhook did not forgive weakness.
It tolerated it.
And then it erased it.
Kairo learned this within his first hour outside the ruined shelter.
The slums stretched wider than he initially realized, layers upon layers of poverty stacked like sediment. Streets narrowed into alleys, alleys collapsed into crawlspaces, and crawlspaces became tunnels where even light seemed unwilling to follow. People watched from behind broken windows and hanging cloth, eyes sharp, assessing.
A child alone did not exist here.
A child alone was prey.
Kairo walked anyway.
His pace was unhurried, footsteps measured, mind already cataloging patterns—who watched too intently, who pretended not to, who positioned themselves near corners or elevated rubble. Hunger gnawed at his stomach, but it was distant, manageable. Pain was a variable, not a priority.
[Environmental Analysis Ongoing]
Population Density: High
Threat Concentration: Moderate
Average Combat Rank: F–E
Blessing Probability: 1 per individual
"CIEL," Kairo thought, keeping his gaze forward. "Define average slum combatant."
[Response:]
Physical Conditioning: Poor
Technique: Improvised
Blessing Quality: Minor (78%), High (19%), Unknown (3%)
Lethality: Situational
That aligned with his observations.
Greyhook survived on scraps, and scraps did not produce elites. But desperation compensated for lack of talent. People here attacked in groups, used terrain, and showed no hesitation.
Kairo turned down an alley deliberately.
It was narrow, hemmed in by collapsed brick on one side and warped planks on the other. The smell of rot intensified. His shadow stretched unnaturally long behind him, flickering as if uncertain where to settle.
Footsteps followed.
Three sets.
Uneven cadence.
One limping.
He continued walking.
When the footsteps accelerated, he stopped.
"Come out," Kairo said calmly, not turning around. "You're wasting calories sneaking."
Silence.
Then laughter—nervous, edged.
"Smart mouth," someone muttered.
Three boys emerged. Older than him by several years. Thinner. Harder. One carried a rusted pipe, another a chipped knife, the third empty-handed but loose-limbed.
The knife-holder grinned. "What you got, pretty boy?"
Kairo looked at them.
Not calculating threat.
Evaluating opportunity.
"Before we proceed," he said evenly, "state your blessings."
The pipe-wielder blinked. "What?"
The empty-handed one snorted. "He's cracked."
The knife-holder shrugged. "Got "Quick Cut". Faster slashes."
Pipe-wielder hesitated, then muttered, ""Stone Skin". Just a bit."
The third boy's jaw tightened. "I don't got one."
Interesting.
Kairo nodded once.
"Thank you."
They lunged.
The alley dissolved.
Not physically—but cognitively.
Kairo's perception shifted as CIEL activated the Battle Simulation Space, overlaying projected trajectories, angles, and force vectors onto reality.
[Battle Simulation: Live-Assist Mode]
Time Dilation: 1:300 (Localized Perception)
Predictive Accuracy: 89%
The knife came first, fast and low.
Kairo stepped inside the swing instead of away from it.
The blade grazed fabric, missing flesh by millimeters.
Kairo's palm struck the boy's wrist.
Not hard.
Precise.
The knife clattered to the ground.
Before the boy could react, Kairo's knee rose sharply into his stomach. Air burst from lungs in a wet gasp as the boy folded.
The pipe swung.
Kairo twisted sideways, feeling the rush of displaced air graze his ribs. He caught the pipe mid-swing, fingers biting into rusted metal, and pulled.
The pipe-wielder stumbled forward, surprised by the strength in a body smaller than his own.
Kairo activated the copied pattern.
[Blessing Detected: "Stone Skin" – Minor]
Copy Available.
He accepted.
A dull heaviness spread beneath his skin—not hardening it fully, but reinforcing stress points.
The boy's free fist came up.
Kairo met it.
Bone met bone.
The boy screamed.
Kairo drove his forehead forward, striking the bridge of the nose.
The pipe-wielder collapsed.
The third boy froze.
"No—wait—!"
Kairo turned.
The boy tried to run.
He didn't make it three steps.
Kairo caught him by the collar and slammed him against the brick wall—not violently, but firmly enough to crack mortar.
The boy sobbed.
Kairo held him there, eyes level.
"You lack a blessing," Kairo said. "Why?"
The boy shook his head frantically. "I—I don't know! Some of us just don't—"
Kairo released him.
The boy collapsed and scrambled away, vanishing into the slum maze.
Kairo stood alone again.
Two unconscious bodies at his feet.
One lesson learned.
[Blessings Copied: 2]
"Quick Cut" (Minor)
"Stone Skin" (Minor)
"Evaluate," Kairo thought.
[Evaluation:]
"Quick Cut" – Inefficient mana-to-motion ratio
"Stone Skin" – Poor coverage, static defense
"Evolve."
[Evolution Initiated]
Inside the simulation space, the blessings deconstructed into functions—movement acceleration, mana reinforcement, surface durability.
CIEL recombined them.
[New Blessing Created:]
"Adaptive Guard" (High)
Dynamic reinforcement based on incoming force
Partial kinetic redirection
Kairo exhaled.
"Better."
By nightfall, Greyhook whispered.
A boy had fought three and walked away.
A boy who didn't scream.
Didn't threaten.
Didn't steal afterward.
Some said he was cursed.
Others said he was academy-bound.
On a rooftop overlooking the slums, a figure watched.
Beastkin.
Long ears, fur patterned like ash and gold, tail flicking slowly.
Her eyes glowed faintly.
Blessing: "Predator Sense" (High)
Detects entities with abnormal growth potential.
She licked her lips, unsettled.
"That one," she murmured. "He doesn't smell like prey."
Below, Kairo sat on a broken stairwell, back against cold stone, eyes closed.
Inside his mind, the simulation expanded.
[Training Cycle Initialized]
Duration: 12 hours (External)
Internal Time: 500 Days
Kairo stepped into it without hesitation.
Greyhook slept.
Kairo trained.
And the slums began to understand—
Something had arrived.