Shadows in the Alley

Kalem barely had a second to catch his breath before he heard the slow clap echo through the alleyway behind him. 

"Well, well, look at you," Sid sneered, stepping forward from the shadows, his mouth curled into a nasty grin. "Got yourself some fancy new tricks, huh, rat? Running like you actually got somewhere to be." 

Kalem wiped the sweat from his brow and exhaled, rolling his shoulders back. "Yeah, Sid, it's called *moving forward*. Something you wouldn't understand, seeing as you're still sniffing around the gutters like a damn dog." 

The insult landed, and Sid's smirk faltered, his fingers twitching at his side. The other Dregs were catching up now, their footsteps filling the alley as they fanned out, cutting off any escape. Kalem could see the hunger in their eyes—Sid's especially. 

"Heh. You always had a smart mouth, Kalem," Sid said, cracking his knuckles. "Too bad that mouth never knew when to shut the hell up. You think you're better than us now? 'Cause you got some light show at that little ceremony? You're still just a street rat. Always will be." 

Kalem huffed a laugh. "Better than you? Sid, I was *always* better than you. You just didn't have the brains to notice." 

That did it. The veins in Sid's neck bulged, and his face twisted in anger. "You think you're hot shit now? You weren't so cocky when we ran the streets together. Back when Lilith was still around." 

Kalem's jaw tightened slightly, though he kept his expression calm. "Lilith," he repeated, as if tasting the name. "That what this is about? You still pissed she never looked twice at you? Face it, Sid, she saw you for what you were—pathetic." 

Sid's eyes flashed with something dangerous, his breathing turning heavy. "You don't get to talk about her. She was *one of us*—and then she *disappeared*. And you wanna know something? I always wondered if *you* had something to do with that." 

Kalem raised an eyebrow. "You seriously think I had anything to do with Lilith leaving? Gods, you really are as stupid as I remember." 

Sid didn't let him get another word in. With a furious growl, he lunged forward, swinging his fist in a wild arc. Kalem barely had time to react before the blow came inches from his face. He ducked, twisting his body to the side, feeling the rush of air as the punch missed him by a hair. 

Sid stumbled, but he recovered fast, snarling. "Stop *dodging*, you little shit!" 

Kalem smirked. "Stop *missing*." 

Sid's eyes burned with rage, and he charged again, this time more reckless, his fists flying wildly. Kalem danced around the strikes, his body feeling lighter, faster. He could see the openings, the weak spots—Sid was angry, predictable. It was almost *too* easy. 

But then, he heard movement behind him. 

The rest of the Dregs had arrived, circling around him like vultures. 

Sid grinned wickedly, wiping his mouth. "You got nowhere to run now." 

Kalem's heart pounded, but he kept his expression calm, his fingers tightening around the dagger hidden beneath his coat. 

"Well," he muttered under his breath, cracking his neck. "Guess we'll do this the hard way." 

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In a dimly lit backroom of a rundown gambling den, several higher-ups of the Dregs gathered in hushed conversation. The room stank of cheap liquor, sweat, and burning cigars, the thick smoke curling in the air as men and women lounged around a cracked wooden table. The tension was palpable. 

"Word's spreading fast," one of them muttered, rubbing his temples. "Kalem's not just some street punk anymore. He's a demigod now." 

"Tch," another scoffed, leaning back in his chair. "Demigod my ass. He's a *zero-star* demigod. That means jack shit. He ain't stronger than before, just got some fancy light show to his name." 

"But that might not last," a woman in the corner spoke up, her voice low and cautious. "What if he actually ranks up? If he gets stronger, we're the ones who let it happen. If we don't handle this now, he might come back for *us* one day." 

"You're all getting worked up over nothing," a burly man grunted, arms crossed. "He's one kid. We've put down plenty of talented little bastards before." 

The whispers continued, some nervous, others indifferent. But then, a heavy voice cut through the noise. 

"*Enough.*" 

All heads turned as Gorrin, one of the senior enforcers, leaned forward, his deep-set eyes sharp as knives. His thick fingers tapped against the table rhythmically, a silent warning in itself. 

"You're all missing the bigger picture," he said, voice steady and firm. "While you're debating whether or not to be scared of a damn kid, we've got a *real* problem." 

The room quieted as they waited for him to continue. 

"This little chase Sid started? It's got *everyone* watching," Gorrin growled. "We ain't moving in the shadows anymore. The other gangs, the syndicates, even some of the underground guilds—they're all eyeing us now. Wondering why we're making such a damn mess over some low-level brat." 

A few of the gang members exchanged uneasy looks. 

"If we take him down, we better do it *quickly and quietly*," Gorrin continued. "If we drag this out, people are gonna start asking *why* we're so desperate to take out some no-name street rat. And worse…" He exhaled through his nose. "They might start thinking he's worth protecting." 

Silence filled the room. The idea was unsettling—if Kalem caught the attention of the wrong people, the Dregs might not just have a problem *with* him, but *because* of him. 

Gorrin leaned back in his chair. "We need to play this smart. Sid's out there acting like a rabid dog, but if we don't rein him in, we're gonna end up with bigger problems than some runaway kid with a god's blessing." 

The room sat in contemplation, the weight of the situation finally sinking in. Some looked uncertain, others impatient. But one thing was clear: the game had changed, and how they played their next move could mean everything.