Chapter 1: The Slum Rat

Velmire, Year 978 of the Dusk Era

The air reeked of filth, sweat, and desperation. Rain drizzled down from the soot-covered sky, turning the dirt roads into rivers of mud. Crumbling shacks, held together by rotten wood and sheer will, lined the alleyways of the Rat's Nest—Velmire's most wretched slum. Here, survival wasn't a birthright. It was a gamble.

Aedric crouched in the shadows of a collapsed building, his stomach gnawing at itself. Three days. Three days without food, and he could already feel his body growing weaker. He pulled his tattered cloak tighter around his thin frame, trying to ignore the hunger that clawed at him like a rabid beast.

He needed to steal something. Anything.

Across the street, a baker's boy, no older than ten, struggled to carry a basket full of steaming bread. The scent made Aedric's vision blur with need. He knew the risk. The last thief caught in the market had his hand chopped off and left to bleed in the gutters. But hunger had no patience for fear.

His muscles tensed. He waited for the right moment.

The boy tripped.

That was it.

Aedric darted forward like a shadow, his fingers snatching a loaf before the boy even realized what had happened. A single second of triumph. Then—

"THIEF!"

The cry split the air. The baker's boy scrambled to his feet, pointing directly at Aedric. The crowd turned. Aedric cursed under his breath and ran.

Shouts followed. Heavy boots thundered against the ground. The slum guards.

He darted through narrow alleys, leaping over broken barrels and dodging stray dogs. The guards weren't far behind, their armor clanking, their breath heavy with ale.

"You little rat, I'll gut you myself!" one of them bellowed.

Aedric turned a corner and skidded to a halt. A dead end.

His heart pounded. His grip tightened on the stolen loaf. This wasn't how he was supposed to die.

The guards slowed, grinning as they cornered him. "Nowhere left to run, boy."

Aedric clenched his jaw. If he was going to die, he would make them work for it.

Then, a whisper slithered through his mind.

"Do you wish to survive?"

Aedric's breath caught. The air around him thickened, growing heavy with an unseen force. His vision blurred, and for a moment, he wasn't in the slums anymore. He was… nowhere.

Before him stood a figure draped in shadows, its golden eyes burning like embers.

"Swear yourself to me, and I will give you power beyond your wildest dreams."

The guards charged. Aedric had no time to think. No time to question.

"Yes."

A wave of something cold and electric surged through his veins. The world snapped back into focus.

Aedric lifted his gaze—and the guards froze.

They clutched their heads, their expressions twisting in pain. One by one, they collapsed, screaming as if their very souls were being crushed.

Aedric stood amidst their writhing bodies, his breath steady. The hunger was gone. The fear was gone.

And for the first time in his life, he felt power.