The Crawlspawn's wing hung from a rusted spike outside the slums, now a grim warning.
Nobody mocked him anymore.
Nobody dared.
Adexander spent the next few days in silence, shaping weapons from the beast's bones. A crude dagger. A spearhead. Even makeshift armor.
But more than that—
He trained.
Not in sword forms or magical arts… not yet.
He trained his body.
---
By day—
He ran barefoot across shattered roofs, leapt over barbed fences, let dogs chase him just for the thrill.
By night—
He practiced breaking stone with bare fists, dodging arrows from slum hunters, and holding his breath in sewer water until his lungs burned.
One evening, the bread girl watched him from a rooftop.
> "You don't talk much."
No answer.
She tried again.
> "Are you training to get revenge?"
He turned slowly, his red eyes glowing under the moon.
> "No."
> "Then why?"
A long silence.
Then, a quiet reply:
> "Power."
---
Elsewhere…
A man stood before the Slum Guild's board. His armor gleamed beneath his worn cloak.
> "Name?" barked the bored clerk.
> "Raik."
> "Purpose?"
> "Dungeon entry. Heard you've got a cursed one near here."
The clerk looked up, frowning.
> "You mean the Crawl? That thing's suicide. Full of mutated horrors."
Raik grinned.
> "Perfect. I'm bored."
---
Later that night...
Adexander entered a side alley dungeon known as "The Shiver Pit."
It was unranked. Unmonitored. Full of discarded horrors and broken mana.
Exactly what he needed.
The gate hissed open like breath.
The moment he stepped inside, his skin crawled. Not from cold—but instinct. Something watched.
> "You again," came a voice behind him.
He turned slightly.
Raik leaned against the stone wall, a curved blade on his shoulder.
> "You're the Crimson brat, right?"
No answer.
Raik grinned.
> "Name's Raik. S-rank. Former Northern Blade Guild. Got bored. You?"
Adexander kept walking.
> "Tch. Rude."
> "Power," Adexander said simply, without looking back.
Raik blinked.
> "...Heh. You might be interesting after all."
---
Deeper inside—
The Shiver Pit was alive with screeches. Shadows danced unnaturally. The very walls whispered.
Raik and Adexander fought back-to-back.
> "Left!" Raik shouted as a spider-leech lunged from the dark.
Adexander spun, grabbed it midair, and ripped it in two.
> "Not bad," Raik muttered. "You don't dodge much."
> "Don't need to."
More enemies surged—crawling from cracks, eyes glowing green.
Adexander leapt in. Bone dagger in hand, fists like hammers.
He moved like a beast—silent, precise, cruel.
Raik laughed.
> "Damn, kid! You fight like you hate the world."
Adexander responded without looking:
> "I do."
---
Near the heart of the Pit—
A malformed horror waited: a three-headed beast made from corpses stitched by mana rot.
It bellowed, shaking the dungeon.
Raik readied his blade.
> "You want to back off? Tag team this one?"
Adexander stepped forward alone.
> "Mine."
> "Hah! Alright then."
The beast charged.
Adexander stood still—watching. Listening.
At the last moment, he ducked, dashed, and stabbed upward through its central head, driving the bone blade into its brain.
But it didn't die.
Its second and third heads snarled and bit into his shoulder and leg.
Blood sprayed.
Raik flinched.
> "Kid—!"
But Adexander's eyes…
They glowed.
He grabbed the heads, screamed nothing, and tore them apart with raw strength.
Then, panting—smiling faintly—he dropped to one knee.
---
Raik stepped beside him.
> "You're insane."
> "I'm Adexander."
> "Tch. You're trouble. I like it."
Raik offered him a hand.
Adexander ignored it and stood on his own.
> "Weakness... is habit."
---
Later…
They sat by a fire inside the dungeon, roasting spider meat.
Raik leaned back.
> "So what's your deal? You don't act like a slum brat."
To Be Continued...