Dominic panted, his body screaming in pain.
His ribs throbbed from the monster's last strike, his arms felt heavy, and his breath came in ragged gasps. His vision blurred for a moment before sharpening again.
But the monster… it was gone.
It had run.
Not because of him.
Something else had scared it away.
Dominic's fingers curled into fists. He didn't like that feeling.
He thought awakening a bloodline meant he had become strong. But the world had taught him otherwise.
There was always someone stronger than you.
---
A soft crunch echoed through the stillness of the slums.
Heavy footsteps.
Dominic's entire body tensed.
Someone was here.
A shadow moved at the edge of his vision, stepping through the flickering light of the slum lanterns.
At first glance, he looked like a nobody.
A man dressed in a simple gray cloak, his hood lowered, revealing dark, shoulder-length hair streaked with silver strands. He looked weathered, tired—but not weak.
A sword was strapped to his back, its hilt wrapped in worn leather, and his gray-blue eyes held a calmness that didn't match the filth of the slums.
He stared at Dominic.
Not with fear. Not with disgust.
But with curiosity.
Dominic staggered back a step, still breathing heavily.
The man sighed, shaking his head. "You fight like a starving dog."
---
Garrick had seen a lot in his life.
He had walked through battlefields littered with corpses. He had watched empires fall, seen men rise to power and be torn down just as quickly.
And yet, as he stood in the shadows of the slums, arms crossed, watching the fight unfold before him…
He found himself intrigued.
The boy—Dominic, as he would later learn his name to be—should have been dead.
By all logic, by all experience, he should have been ripped apart the moment that creature lunged at him.
Yet he wasn't.
He adapted.
Not with skill. Not with technique.
With raw survival instinct.
Garrick's sharp, gray-blue eyes narrowed.
This kid isn't trained.
His movements were erratic, his footwork sloppy at best. His stance wasn't something he had learned from a teacher—it was something he had figured out on his own.
And yet…
His body moved in ways it shouldn't.
His dodges weren't luck.
His attacks weren't just wild swings.
They were precise. Calculated. Adjusting mid-motion like an experienced fighter.
Garrick's fingers lightly tapped against his sword hilt.
That wasn't normal.
How does a half-starved kid, with no training, fight like that?
---
Garrick took a slow breath, analyzing the boy further.
The scent of hunger, sweat, and exhaustion clung to him.
He had seen kids like this before—orphans, desperate, weak, abandoned by a world that didn't care if they lived or died.
But Dominic wasn't just some street rat. Maybe he looked like one, maybe he even lived like one-but something about him was different.
But his eyes told a different story.
A normal weakling would have cowered.
A fool would have fought with arrogance.
But this kid?
He fought like a cornered animal.
He fought like those assassin in the empire and some nobles house.
His instinct, reflex was precise yeah they maybe some flaws in them but the boy adapted.
"Is it because of his bloodline ability or what".
Garrick was curious, he needed to know how a malnourished, half-dead kid have this potential.
Then, the fight shifted.
Dominic moved to finish the fight.
He reached out—expecting something.
And nothing happened.
Garrick immediately recognized the shift.
A moment of hesitation.
A single crack in the boy's survival instincts.
And that was all the monster needed.
The beast's claws tore into him, sending him flying.
Garrick's jaw tightened slightly. "Tch. That's what happens when you rely on something you don't understand".
For the first time, Dominic looked truly vulnerable.
Now he's going to die.
Garrick exhaled.
"I guess i have to help him"
---
Dominic's muscles tightened.
"Who the hell was this guy?"
His instincts screamed at him that this man was dangerous.
The way he moved… too relaxed.
And the aura radiating from him was too heavy, he felt as if a monster was staring at him.
"Is he with those group of guys from earlier".
"But i don't sense any malicious intent from him and if he even was with them he could have killed me before i even noticed his arrival"
He had seen the fight.
He had watched from the shadows.
And he hadn't interfered.
Dominic's voice was hoarse. "Who are you?"
The man tilted his head slightly. "Just a traveler."
A lie.
His stance, his presence, everything about him screamed 'warrior.'
Dominic didn't trust him.
But he also knew he was in no shape to fight.
Still, he refused to look weak. He straightened, forcing his breaths to slow.
The man smirked.
"Good. At least you're not some sniveling brat."
He took a step closer, eyes scanning Dominic up and down.
"You have potential. But right now? You're nothing special."
---
Dominic's jaw clenched. He was exhausted, bleeding, barely standing.
But something in him burned.
Nothing special?
After everything he had been through?
His fingers twitched, itching to strike. His body screamed at him to stop, but his pride…
His pride wouldn't let this man look down on him.
The man sighed, rolling his shoulders. "You're not stupid. You know you'd lose."
Dominic didn't reply.
The man smirked slightly. "But you still want to fight."
His gaze flickered with amusement. "Fine. I'll show you why you don't stand a chance."
Before Dominic could react—
The man moved.
---
One moment, he was standing there.
The next—
He was behind Dominic.
The air shifted.
Dominic's instincts screamed—move!
But he couldn't.
His body froze. His reflexes couldn't keep up.
The man's fingertips tapped his shoulder.
And in that single motion, Dominic felt it.
A chill down his spine.
The absolute gap in power.
If this had been a real attack… he would already be dead.
---
Dominic staggered forward, whirling around, his breath ragged.
The man simply stood there, hands resting in his cloak, completely calm.
"Lesson one," he said, voice steady. "Strength isn't just about bloodlines. It's about skill. Experience."
His gray-blue eyes locked onto Dominic's.
"And right now, you have neither."
The stranger sighed, scratching the back of his head. "It was great this boy was born here, if he had been born in those empires or nobles land and his talent had been noticed by one of them, he would have been used as a pawn or killed due to jealous cause of his talent".
He finally gave his name.
"Call me Garrick."
He turned slightly, glancing toward the ruins of the slums.
His expression darkened slightly.
"That thing you fought? that was nothing compared to what i have fought."
"And if you want to live long enough to get strong—"
"You'd better start listening."