Morning in the slum was no different from night.
Cold. Empty. Hungry.
Auren walked slowly through the narrow alley, each step heavier than the last. His stomach twisted painfully, a constant reminder that he hadn't eaten properly in days.
Beside him, Noel stumbled slightly.
"…Auren," Noel whispered, voice weak, "I can't…"
Auren stopped.
He didn't turn immediately.
Because he already knew.
Hunger wasn't just pain anymore—it was becoming weakness.
And weakness…
Meant death.
Auren clenched his fists.
"…We'll find something," he said.
A lie.
But a necessary one.
The alley stretched ahead—dark, broken, filled with people who looked just like them.
Empty eyes.
Slow movements.
No one spoke.
No one helped.
Because everyone understood the same truth:
Helping others meant starving yourself.
Auren's eyes moved carefully.
Searching.
Calculating.
There—
A small stall.
Abandoned.
Or at least… it looked like it.
Auren stepped closer.
Careful.
Slow.
A piece of hardened bread sat on the edge.
Old.
Dry.
But still food.
Noel's eyes lit up slightly.
"…Food…"
Auren reached for it—
"Oi."
The voice froze him instantly.
Too late.
Footsteps.
Heavy.
Confident.
Auren didn't need to turn to know.
They had been seen.
Four figures stepped into the alley.
Not starving.
Not weak.
Thugs.
Their clothes were torn—but their bodies weren't.
They ate.
Regularly.
Which meant only one thing.
They took from others.
One of them smirked.
"That yours?"
Auren didn't answer.
Another stepped forward, snatching the bread before Auren could react.
"Guess not."
The group laughed.
Noel instinctively moved closer to Auren.
"Give it back," Auren said.
His voice was low.
But steady.
The thug raised an eyebrow.
"Oh? You talking to me?"
Auren didn't back down.
That alone was enough.
The thug's smile vanished.
"Wrong move."
The first hit came without warning.
Auren barely saw it.
A fist slammed into his face, sending him crashing to the ground.
Noel shouted—but someone grabbed him, holding him in place.
"Watch," one thug said, grinning. "This is what happens when trash forgets its place."
Auren tried to get up—
A kick drove into his stomach.
Air left his lungs instantly.
Pain exploded through his body.
Another kick.
Another.
His vision blurred.
His body refused to respond properly.
Still—
He forced himself up.
Hands shaking.
Legs unstable.
But standing.
The thugs paused for a second.
Then laughed.
"Still trying?"
"Does he think he's strong?"
Auren swung.
A desperate punch.
Slow.
Predictable.
It missed.
A fist slammed into his ribs.
Something cracked.
He dropped again.
Harder this time.
The world spun.
Sound faded.
Everything felt distant.
"…Pathetic."
The word cut through the noise.
Sharp.
Cold.
Absolute.
Silence followed.
The thugs stepped back instantly.
Fear.
Respect.
Something shifted.
Auren forced his eyes open.
Through blurred vision—
He saw him.
Walking into the alley.
Slow.
Calm.
Untouchable.
Ravik.
Even without doing anything…
He dominated the space.
The thugs lowered their heads slightly.
No one dared speak first.
Ravik's gaze moved once across the scene—
Then landed on Auren.
For a brief second.
Then—
He looked away.
"Weak."
One word.
No emotion.
No interest.
Just judgment.
Auren's fingers dug into the dirt.
Something inside him twisted.
Not anger.
Not shame.
Something deeper.
Refusal.
The thugs laughed again.
"Boss already said it!"
"Know your place!"
Ravik turned.
"Let's go."
To him—
It was already over.
Auren didn't matter.
Wouldn't survive.
Wasn't worth remembering.
Auren moved.
Slowly.
Painfully.
He pushed himself up again.
His arms trembled violently.
His legs barely responded.
But he forced them to.
Halfway up—
He dropped to one knee.
Blood fell from his lips.
But his head lifted.
And his eyes—
Locked forward.
"…?"
Ravik stopped.
Something felt off.
The alley went silent again.
Auren didn't beg.
Didn't speak.
Didn't look away.
Even now—
Broken.
Bleeding.
Powerless—
His eyes remained steady.
Unyielding.
Ravik turned back.
This time—
He actually looked.
Not at a victim.
But at something… unfinished.
He walked closer.
Each step slow.
Measured.
He stopped in front of Auren.
Looking down at him.
"You're weak," Ravik said again.
Auren stayed silent.
Didn't deny it.
Didn't accept it.
Just endured it.
A faint smirk appeared on Ravik's face.
"But…"
A pause.
"…you didn't break."
The thugs exchanged glances.
Confused.
This wasn't normal.
Ravik crouched slightly, bringing himself closer to Auren's level.
"Do you know why you lost?"
Auren said nothing.
But his eyes—
Listened.
Ravik's voice dropped.
Calm.
Sharp.
"In this place… strength isn't given."
Auren's breath trembled.
"It's taken."
The words sank deep.
"If you keep fighting like that… you'll die."
Auren's fists clenched slightly.
"But if you want to survive…"
Ravik leaned closer.
"…then stop standing up to fight."
Auren frowned faintly.
Ravik's gaze sharpened.
"…and start standing up to win."
Silence.
Heavy.
Meaningful.
Ravik straightened.
Interest fading again.
"Let's go."
The thugs hesitated—
Then followed.
But this time…
They glanced back at Auren.
Not with mockery.
But uncertainty.
The alley emptied.
Only silence remained.
Noel broke free and ran to Auren.
"Auren!"
He knelt beside him, panicked.
"Are you okay?!"
Auren didn't answer immediately.
His breathing was rough.
His body shaking.
But his mind—
Was no longer the same.
"…Win…" he whispered.
Noel blinked. "What?"
Auren slowly looked at the ground.
Then at the path Ravik had taken.
His thoughts began to shift.
Change.
Evolve.
Fighting…
Wasn't enough.
Standing…
Wasn't enough.
Surviving…
Required something more.
Auren's eyes hardened slightly.
For the first time—
There was calculation in them.
"…We don't fight anymore," he said quietly.
Noel looked confused.
"Then what do we do?"
Auren stood slowly.
Despite the pain—
He didn't fall.
"…We win."