Surprised, Silvy woke up. Every level was a boon, each class impacting a person differently but always improving their skills at that job. However, leveling so much in so little time? Level six in [Warrior] and level two in [Sorcerer], adding up to [Shoplifter] level two she already had before, she was now level ten. Her criminal career had started four years ago and she had gained only two levels in all this time.

Given Bronze rank adventurers became Silver rank at level fifteen, or after they passed a test, she was already almost as strong as Silver rank. She wasn’t an adventurer and she wasn’t able to become one right away, though, so there wasn’t much point in thinking about it.

The Skills she had received were more interesting and useful at this moment, and they felt quite straightforward. [Danger Sense] was probably the most known Skill in the world, its purpose to feel incoming danger and warning the user. [Basic Piercing Style] seemed to refer to her ability to use piercing weapons and/or attacks. [Unflinching Stance]... A better stance with a weapon? She wasn’t sure. [Minor Mana Preservation] would make her use less mana, probably.

Moving the attention to her right arm, she noticed it had regrown as if nothing had happened, her skin pristine without defects. No dirt, no mole, no wrinkle, almost as if looking at a sculpture, not at a living arm. Her clothes weren't regrown, unfortunately. A shame.

Furthermore, her whole body felt different. She was full of energy, feeling stronger and faster, and even her mana, if that was what it was, felt easier to control, if only a little.

More pressing matters requiring her attention, she climbed down from the tree, moving westward. She kept repeating herself these were the woods east of the city, so if she kept moving west she’d reach it, eventually. Right?

This day passed quietly, the most noteworthy even Silvy tripping on a root and landing on her face. Soon dusk arrived but she kept going, not feeling any fatigue. Night soon took its place, the sun disappearing over the horizon, the two moons appearing in the starry sky.

Silvy noticed she could see perfectly fine, with no notable difference from the day. This was not the first time she moved around in the night with only the two moons as a source of light, but this time the landscape was too bright, too detailed.

Adding this phenomenon to the long list of unanswered questions, she kept walking. A few hours later, a sense of danger came from behind. Silvy trusted her Skill, diving to the side, dodging a shadow passing right where she had been.

Another wolf, similar to the one of yesterday, landed in front of her. This one seemed younger, more impulsive, and slower. Right after landing it rushed into the forest, disappearing between the undergrowth. And after two dozen seconds a sense of danger warned Silvy again, this time from her left, the child dodging backward, the wolf missing and disappearing into the forest once again.

Silvy was getting annoyed. This wolf was slower but still faster than her, so she couldn’t escape. Moreover, it didn’t seem like it was going to stop anytime soon, so she prepared a blade of energy floating in front of her.

Danger again from the left, the wolf leaped from a bush, Silvy taking a step back and moving the blade towards the moving shadow, cutting its side. Blood spraying out of the wound, the wolf snarled, the sound traveling through the forest.

The monster landed awkwardly and sprinted away, slower than before but still faster than Silvy. She wasn’t going to let it escape. Shifting her blade over her head, she threw it at the wolf, the blade hitting and digging a hole through its whole length.

Silvy’s energy manipulation felt easier now, now even able to throw it. She had controlled it without thinking and had worked well, using less mana than before. Moreover, the energy blade hadn’t disappeared after throwing it, the child keeping it together. Instructing it towards herself, it dissipated back into her body, restoring a part of the energy used.

Moving up to the wolf, Silvy watched as her body moved without her control, eating the wolf one bite at a time.

Feast. Feas-

Pieces of meat ripped and consumed by her, her body not even chewing. These pieces disappeared before reaching her stomach, surges of energy entering her body instead, replenishing and expanding her energy reserve more and more. Trying to wrestle the control of her body from whatever was controlling her, she had no success, now stuck like this until it ended.

After eating some more pieces, Silvy saw a glint in the middle of all the blood, what people called mana crystal or monster core, the source of magic in monsters. It was an elongated sphere positioned at the base of the wolf’s skull.

Most monsters used magic without even realizing it, using it through their instinct, like the shadow effect of the wolf. Other monsters were smarter, able to cast more complex magic, like sapient species. Her body reached for this core, swallowing it without pause.

Cores were a source of magic, dangerous if not handled carefully. And she had just eaten one.

A huge wave of energy rushed over her, settling down as fast as it appeared, with no other visible consequence. It shocked Silvy, having never heard of sapients eating monster cores, and surely not surviving after that. But she wasn’t a sapient anymore.

After an hour, Silvy’s body stopped moving, the control back to her. Only bones and the blood on them remained, all the meat and organs eaten. She felt like gagging, but nothing came out.

After a few minutes she calmed down, moving again for the city, the place not getting closer by itself. The trees were getting more sporadic, though, so she was probably getting closer to the edge of the forest.

Five minutes later, the grasslands were in sight, only a few small trees remaining around Silvy. Huge flatlands and small hills covered in green and yellow grass covered the horizon, the gentle wind ruffling the vegetation. Looking around she searched for a road, spotting it to the north. It seemed well-preserved and large, so it was probably the main road leading to Chilog.

The problem was, she was bloody and dirty. Even in the slums she would catch attention, and no one wanted to be a target in the slums.

She needed to get to the river, a few minutes of walking from Chilog itself. Moving northward, she kept her eyes mainly on the road, but still wary of her surroundings. Monsters roamed the grasslands as well, in fewer numbers than the forest and weaker, but monsters nonetheless.

Fortunately, nothing jumped her while moving towards the road and after a few minutes, the forest became sporadic enough to see the tall walls of the city. The river flowing nearby, she changed direction towards it, not wanting to be seen in this state.

Reaching the river, she watched as the water placidly flowed southward, the body of water calm at this time of the year. This large river was a source of fish and water for the city all year round but most folks fished near the walls. Few people ever came this far south and no one was around at this moment.

Stripping out of her pitiful clothes, the rags bloody, dirty and with so many holes and tears in them they barely covered the important bits, she scanned the water for danger, seeing none. Being summer, the water was cool and refreshing, Silvy scrubbing her water with some grass, removing the dried blood and gore. Taking her clothes she tried the same but gave up after a few minutes of struggling, realizing this was not going to work.

Sighing, she got out of the water and laid down on the grass with the rags outstretched near her, the sun shining and drying her.

This was the first moment she could stop and think, the forest too dangerous for it. Someone had done something to her, something worse than torture, her mind still refusing to recall the pain she had felt. She had died and then woken up a few kilometers from the city. She was dead and alive. With bonus magic powers.

Who could she ask? The few people she trusted wouldn’t be able to help her. She wanted revenge, punching the plump guy, kicking the kidnappers,

feasting on them.

And to do that, she needed power, she had to become stronger. Adventurer or soldier, then. However, the soldier had to follow orders and fight petty battles for nobles around the land. No, she needed freedom, to do what she wished, and the power to do it. An adventurer.

Putting on her dry rage, she walked to the city. There was no way they’d let her in, but she was going for the slums north of it. There were slums in the south as well, but her base was north. Reaching the main road, she crossed it, entering into the slum district.

Nothing had changed since she had been away. Not many gave her a second look even in her pitiful state, people scurrying away looking over their shoulders. The few paying attention to her were the shopkeepers, but they were monitoring everyone, afraid to be shoplifted.

She didn’t care, though. People hardly cared for a dirty child walking through the slums, even if she had blood on her clothes. Having an objective, she moved straight towards it, paying little mind to her surroundings.

Down this alley, through this abandoned house, right at this crossroad. She moved through the district by memory, the route clear in her mind, reaching an abandoned house a few minutes later. The only noteworthy detail of this house was its pitiful state, but most of the houses in the slums were like this. Half of the roof had fallen, a big hole decorated one wall, the wood was rotten, a miracle was keeping it standing.

Or so people with no other knowledge would think. Few people in the right mind would enter this house, fearing it would fall on their heads. However, relatively new poles inside the house painted so they looked rotten shored the roof, giving it stability. Looking around to confirm she was alone, Silvy moved inside.

The smell was bad, the furniture falling to pieces, that one actually old and broken. She ignored all of it, moving to a trapdoor hidden under a moss-covered rug in the corner. This rug was smelly, covered in moss, dirt, and dust. No one in its right mind would steal or touch it.

The trapdoor led to a basement in better shape than the house above. A few crates and barrels littered the room, used to sit or conserve small quantities of food. Silvy sat on a crate, the inside void of any people, and waited.

——-

A fourteen years old kid was hiding in an alley, using the shadows of the nearby houses to spy down the street. His blonde hair was unkempt and so dirty you could mistake them for brown. Similarly dirty clothes and a hole in his shoes, he was the perfect example of an orphan living in the slums.

Rat was studying his target, a fat and bald man walking down the streets. His clothes indicated a high social standing, just like the two armored and armed guys escorting him. Those two were wary of their surroundings, scanning down the shadowy alleyways and regularly watching their back, but hardly expected trouble. This guy was a nobleman, a fat target perfect for Rat.

He already knew Silvy was dead. The brothel had kidnapped her, and the rumors were clear, if they take you, you don’t get out.

That didn’t mean he was ready to give up. Those guys had taken one of his trusty companions. People in his group swore to protect each other, and they had failed her. Nevertheless, he couldn’t hit their base directly, too many guards, too well defended.

That didn’t apply to their customer, however. Hitting them would make them angry. They had thrown stones at the brothel, but that wasn’t enough, not nearly enough. This was his group, and everyone helped each other. Now that Silvy was gone, they had to make them pay, make them understand they were not easy targets, even if the only thing they could do was petty thieving.

Speaking with his guards, the fat nobleman was getting closer to Rat’s hiding place, complaining about the smell and the unkempt road. If only those were the worst problems of the slums, Rat thought.

Reaching a few steps away from the alley, Rat knew this was the moment, just like his comrades. They appeared above the roofs of the houses behind the fat man, throwing mud balls prepared beforehand.

A few hit the guards in the back, but one hit perfectly, smearing the fat guy’s hair. Shock and fear flashed on his face, the emotions quickly replaced by anger and indignity. Rat was waiting for this, already experienced in these endeavors. He sprinted out of his alley, the guards and the nobleman turning around, the child having predicted this exact reaction.

There! He saw the satchel appear under the nobleman’s shirt, Rat’s target. He ran silently, activating his Skill [Silent Steps], lasting only for ten steps, but that was good enough. He couldn’t kill or wound them, however, the [Danger Sense] they most likely had would give him away.

Drawing his dagger, he expertly cut the satchel from the nobleman’s belt, sprinting away in the opposite direction, his motion fluid and rehearsed many times, the trio still hurling insults to the now running kids.

Four, three, two, one. His steps now noisy again, the dirt raised in clouds behind him. The rich guy and one of the guards turned wide-eyed, the noise attracting their attention. Too late. Rat disappeared into an alley, the fat guy shouting to catch and punish him. He hadn’t even realized his gold was gold.

Fat and slow, just like all nobles.

Left, right, down this house. The child moved through the slums with confidence, losing his pursuers in seconds, not knowing the lands and shortcuts like him.

He didn’t stop, however, the shouting attracting attention they didn’t want. This was the second time this plan had worked, but now he needed a new one, using the same strategy over and over too predictable. Many people had died for this error, but not him, not his group.

He reached his hideout last, his companions already there waiting for him.

Priscilla, now the only female of the group. Brown hair and eyes, she had the perfect face that lowered guards, a disarming smile her strongest weapon. And she knew how to use it.

Swifty, tall for his age, blonde hair and black eyes that made him look more intelligent than he actually was. He was the fastest member, even outrunning some dogs. The malnourished ones. That meant every dog in the slums, so he could effectively outrun dogs.

Lion, the strongest one, uncontested champion of arm-wrestling. He ate just like everyone else, and yet his body was bulky. Rat was a bit envious of it.

Julio, the second in command now that Silvy was gone, or so he liked to think. He was smart, and his disposition and knowledge remind Rat of a noble. But he wasn’t smug like them, helping the group realizing their plans. He didn’t talk about his past and no one pressured him, because no one spoke about it either.

The group was on the ground floor, not underground. Why was that?

“Why aren’t you inside? Did they follow you?” he whispered to them, warily watching his surroundings.

Priscilla pointed at the rug hiding the trapdoor. A few days ago, she had designed a method to notice if someone had entered in their absence, maybe to lay an ambush to kidnap them. It was not perfect, but in the slums nothing was, and besides, it was easy to set up.

Rat looked at the trap, a rusty nail now fallen over. To the unknowing eye, it would seem ordinary, just another piece of trash littering the room. However, the nail and rug were connected through a spider thread, and moving the rug would topple it over. Someone was inside waiting for them, uninvited. It was time to welcome him.

Rat scanned his companions, afraid but steady. In the slums, you either grew up or died, and his group was still alive. He unsheathed his dagger, the others doing the same with their improvised knives. Weapons were useful. You could kill and skin rats, cut pursues, scrub off dirt from under your nails. And you could stab kidnappers.

There two exits to the hideout, only an idiot would trap himself in his own home. Rat signaled Priscilla, Swifty and Julio to move to the back entrance, hidden in the house next to this. Himself and Lion were the best fighters, so they’d take the front, the others attacking by surprise from behind.

Rat counted to sixty. Well, he didn’t know how to reach sixty, but counting to ten six times was good enough. Rat nodded to Lion, the big guy nodding back, the two children already sweating and nervous but gaining courage from each other. He reached for the trapdoor, his hands a little shaking. This could be his end.

He opened it, discarding these thoughts, stepping back, Lion ready to jump on anyone who dared to rush outside. And waited.

Nothing came out, the enemies waiting inside, waiting for them to drop their guard. Not this time.

Rat grabbed a nearby chair leg, Lion quickly realizing what he was doing, preparing for the rush. He threw it inside, climbing down the stairs the moment it hit the ground, dodging right, ready to fight, Lion right behind him and taking his left. Noises from the backdoor, the others appeared from behind some of the barrels, knives ready to stab the intruders.

A single girl was sitting on a crate, watching them rushing in with green round eyes, a slight smile on her lips, black hair freely down her shoulders. Pale skin and scrawny, she looked at them amused.

“Hey Rat, hey guys. I’m back.”

Rat felt the beginning of tears in his eyes, Priscilla abandoning her knife and rushing to Silvy, crying and hugging her. The others were gaping, holding back their tears. Apart from Lion, who was sniffing and crying louder than everyone else, even Priscilla. The bigger they were, the more emotional. Tsk.

Silvy was back, alive. Rat smiled, reassured. They were all together again.