Sunlight crawled between the patched curtains, slicing through the thin haze that hung in Leo's room. The air smelled faintly of ash and boiled grain — the scent of the Grey Streets every morning. Someone outside was already shouting about fresh bread that wasn't fresh, and the clank of wagon wheels echoed over the cobblestones below.
"Leo! Up already?"
His mother's voice carried from the kitchen — hurried, sharp with exhaustion but still soft enough to sting his conscience. He blinked against the light, sitting up to see her tying her faded shawl, the same one she'd worn for years. Her hands trembled slightly as she fastened the knot, then grabbed the dented tin lunchbox from the counter.
"You'll be late again," she said, glancing at him but not stopping her motions. "Master Renn gets angry if I don't sweep the front before the customers come."
"I'll go with you," Leo mumbled, rubbing his eyes.
She gave a short laugh. "And scare away his customers? No, no. You've done enough yesterday. You need rest."
Leo didn't answer. He just watched her shoulders as she spoke, the way her back curved when she turned — years of small labor weighing her down more than any monster could. He'd never really seen it before. Not like this.
Maybe it was the skill. Maybe it was something else.
Through half-open lids, faint threads of light shimmered around her — delicate lines outlining the muscles in her arms, the strain in her wrists, the weak spots even a broom handle could exploit. Weak Point. He blinked quickly, and they vanished, leaving him with a pulse of guilt.
He muttered, "I'll get you out of there soon, Mom."
She didn't hear him. Or maybe she just pretended not to.
A sharp knock rattled the doorframe before he could say anything else.
"Leo! You alive, man?"
Eren Ward's voice — loud, bright, and hopelessly casual — cut through the thin walls. The door creaked open before Leo could reply. Eren stepped in wearing the same torn jacket from last night, one sleeve stitched with copper wire, hair sticking up like he'd wrestled a thunderbird.
"Still sleeping?" Eren grinned, tossing a small brown parcel onto the table. "I brought bread. The kind that doesn't crumble when you breathe near it. That's friendship right there."
His mother chuckled, sliding her shawl higher. "You're a good boy, Eren. He needs someone to drag him out of bed."
Eren puffed his chest. "I take my responsibilities seriously."
"You mean you take his breakfast seriously," Leo muttered.
Eren grinned wider. "Also true."
His mother smiled faintly as she stepped toward the door. "I'll be back by sundown. Don't cause trouble, and don't forget to eat. Both of you."
The latch clicked, and her footsteps faded down the narrow stairs, then out into the rhythm of the street — voices, wheels, and the faint clang of distant forges.
Silence lingered.
Leo chewed on the bread absently, eyes distant. Then, almost casually, he asked, "Hey… what rank did you awaken?"
Eren froze mid-bite, eyebrows lifting. "Oh. You didn't stay to hear?"
Leo shook his head. "Had somewhere to be."
Eren hesitated, then grinned — wide, proud, but not unkind. "C-Rank. Knight class."
The words hung there like thunder. For a heartbeat, even the faint hum of the city outside seemed to pause.
A C-Rank. Strong. Rare for someone from the Grey Streets. It meant early guild invitations, training access, and sponsorships. It meant a future.
Leo forced a smile. "That's… impressive."
"Yeah," Eren said softly, rubbing the back of his neck. "The Ironveil Guild already offered to sponsor my gear. I start training tomorrow."
Leo looked down at his hands. Calloused, cut, still stained faintly with last night's dirt. "That's fast."
Eren nodded, then leaned back with a low whistle. "Fast's the word for everything lately. You heard? The whole city's gone mad since Kaelen pulled an A-Rank awakening yesterday. First one in a decade."
Leo's head lifted slightly. "Kaelen?"
"Yeah," Eren said, eyes bright. "They say the System practically bent around him. Guilds from the Central City are already sending envoys. An A-Rank, Leo. People like that change nations."
Leo stared at the wall a long moment, expression unreadable. "Yeah… they do."
"Still," Eren said, trying for a lighter tone, "a C-Rank's not bad either, right? At least one of us might escape the Streets."
Leo smiled faintly. "One of us will."
Eren opened his mouth to ask more, but Leo stood, grabbing his worn jacket from the chair. "Come on," he said quietly. "If you're treating me to bread, I might as well return the favor."
Eren blinked. "You? Paying?"
Leo's grin deepened. "Don't faint. It's bad for your knight image."
TheMarket
The market veins of the Grey Streets pulsed with life. Vendors yelled over one another, hawking steam-brewed tonics, monster pelts, and fake talismans. The air shimmered with heat and the faint sting of ozone — the smell of burned mana from cheap enchantments.
Leo's boots scuffed through the dust as he moved past stalls, scanning half-heartedly for anything that might look like fortune pretending to be trash.
He stopped before a tall glass-fronted shop glowing faint blue beneath its sign: "Mireille'sArcana Curios."
This one was different — polished counters, enchanted lights, and display cases humming faintly. The kind of place where hope came pre-packaged and overpriced.
The woman behind the counter, all sharp eyes and sharper jewelry, gave him a once-over that screamed wrong district.
"Looking for something specific, dear?" she asked, voice polite but already bored.
Leo glanced at the items glittering behind her — daggers with etched runes, crystals pulsing faintly, cloaks shimmering with enchantment threads.
He didn't answer. His sight flickered, and the hum beneath his skin deepened.
[Origin Eye – Active Mode: ON]
Analyzing environment…
His vision bled into layers of light — thin strings of data connecting everything, glowing brighter around powerful artifacts.
[RunicDagger – RankC+
Refined steel. Mana efficiency: 72 %.]
[Azure Focus Crystal – Rank B-
Conduit-grade material. Used for staff cores. Market Value: 8 gold, 40 silver.]
[Woven Shadow Mantle – Rank C]
Concealment effect: weak. Durability: 64 %.
The text swarmed faster and faster, symbols flickering until his temples throbbed. Too much data. Too much power beyond reach.
He turned off the sight, eyes burning slightly.
[Origin Eye – Deactivated.]
"Huh.. what was I thinking finding treasure in trash-| humph.. even if I find it so what, do I have money to buy it. Shuhh."
"Not seeing anything you like?" the merchant asked, smirking.
"Nothing I can afford," Leo muttered.
She didn't bother to reply.
He stepped outside, blinking against the sunlight. His pockets felt lighter than ever — seven coppers and a thin thread of pride. So this is what strength looks like from the gutter, he thought bitterly.
Still, he couldn't go home empty-handed. He needed something — anything — that might hide potential under rot.
That's when he saw it — a crooked sign leaning against a cracked wall:
Old Ren's Relics & Repairs.
The contrast was almost painful. Inside was dim, the shelves warped, dust clinging to everything. The scent of rust and oil soaked the air.
Ren sat hunched behind his counter, a magnifying lens clipped over one eye, carefully reattaching a mana wire to a chipped ring. His hands shook, but they were steady where it mattered.
The old man looked up. "Well, I'll be damned. Leo Thorne, back again."
Leo nodded. "Still fixing the unfixable?"
Ren grinned through yellowed teeth. "Till the System takes me. Can't do much past D-Rank these days, but the locals keep me busy enough."
Leo's gaze swept the room — dented relics, cracked gems, half-burnt runes. He didn't even bother activating the Origin Eye here. There was no point.
Still, something drew him in deeper — instinct more than sight.
He traced a finger along a shelf of broken trinkets, brushing off dust. Most pieces were useless, but one item didn't feel dead.
A pendant — dull, blackened, almost swallowed by shadows.
"Two coppers," Ren said, before Leo could ask. "Used to hum with mana, I think. Now it's quieter than my knees."
Leo turned it in his hand. It was heavier than it looked. Cold.
"Deal," he said simply, sliding the last of his coins across the counter.
Ren snorted. "You and your lost causes."
"Yeah," Leo murmured. "Guess I've got a type."
The moment his skin met the pendant, something shifted.
No words. No data. Just a faint glow — a deep, pulsing gray that shimmered once beneath the grime and vanished.
Leo froze, his breath caught halfway. The glow was gone before Ren looked up, leaving only the dull surface of cheap metal.
He slipped the pendant into his pocket, heart beating faster than he wanted to admit.
For the first time that day, Leo Thorne felt like the world had blinked — and missed something important.