**#011. Street Kids (1)**
“How many streets are you running?”
The fallen boy couldn’t answer Ray’s question.
The pain coursing through his entire body was one thing, but the weight behind the question itself was far more unsettling.
*Ziiik! Crack!*
A knife grazed the boy’s cheek, embedding itself into the ground.
A splatter of blood landed on the boy’s face.
“H-Hiiiik!”
“Answer.”
“Th-three! Three streets!”
“Which ones?”
“From 23 to 25…”
Anxiety. Unease. Fear.
Mana flickered ominously in the boy’s aura, murky with tension.
“You’re lying.”
“W-what?”
Instead of answering, Ray grabbed the boy’s wrist and slammed the blackjack onto the back of his hand.
*Thud! Crunch! Thud! Crunch!*
“Gaaaah! Aaaagh!”
As bones splintered, the boy struggled desperately to pull his hand away.
But Ray’s grip, enhanced by magic, was as unyielding as stone.
“Sob… hic…”
By the time Ray let go, the boy’s hand was drenched in blood, white bone shards poking through.
Tears and snot streaked his face, pooling on the ground.
Above him, Ray’s voice rang cold.
“Still loyal to your boss, huh? Lying to protect him? Or maybe you just love your little gang that much?”
This wasn’t his first time dealing with street kids.
He prided himself on knowing how to handle them better than anyone.
Loyalty? Brotherhood?
Such things crumbled easily before terror and pain.
Ray turned his gaze.
“Hiiiik!”
“……!”
The other boys quickly buried their faces into the ground as their eyes met his.
*Step. Step.*
As Ray approached, their trembling grew more pronounced.
Their teeth chattered as they silently prayed he wouldn’t pick them.
“Not me. Please, not me. Pick someone else…”
*Tap.*
Finally, Ray stopped.
“You.”
“Hiiik! I-I’ll tell you everything!”
The boy at Ray’s boots didn’t dare lift his head.
Without being asked, he began spilling all the gang’s information.
Overwhelming terror drove him. It was pure survival instinct.
“We… we control 14 streets. Th-there are 46 of us. Th-the boss is Kedrick…”
Fourteen streets.
Forty-six members.
Compared to the two streets Ray controlled in Sector 50, their gang was massive.
Ray fell into thought.
Gathering information alone by wandering the streets had its limits.
For someone desperate to achieve vengeance quickly, it was inefficient and time-consuming.
If he could control the street kids and use them to gather intelligence across sectors…
*…Taking over their gang would take time.*
He decided to scout for one more day before making a decision.
“You.”
“Y-yes!”
“Look at me.”
The boy hesitated.
He thought Ray wanted to remember his face for revenge later.
*Ssshhhk.*
But when the sound of the blackjack sliding caught his ears, he immediately raised his head.
“What’s your name?”
“N-Ne… Nesh!”
“Alright, Nesh. What did your boss tell you when he sent you here?”
“H-he said to beat people… just enough to not kill them… and steal food. S-said he’d be watching… everything…”
That’s when Nesh noticed something.
Across the way, his comrades were rising cautiously, knives in hand.
They crept toward the monster-like man’s back.
Suppressing their pain. Moving slowly but deliberately.
A smile began to spread on Nesh’s lips as he imagined what was about to happen.
“Pass a message to your boss.”
Ray’s cold voice pierced the air.
“Die, you bastard───!”
“You son of a───!”
Knives filled with murderous intent came down on Ray’s back and neck.
But something strange happened.
A sudden gust of wind disrupted their movements.
It was Ray’s pre-prepared magic.
The boys had no way of knowing.
Ray spun around, his blackjack slicing through the air.
*Thwack! Thwack!*
The sound of leather against flesh echoed as the attackers crumpled to the ground.
The blackjack didn’t stop there; it struck Nesh squarely in the back as he half-cowered.
*Whack! Crack!*
“Urk!”
Ray grabbed Nesh’s trembling head by the hair, lifting it up.
“Pass it along.”
He whispered into his ear, finishing the sentence he’d started earlier.
“They’re not the only ones watching. I’m watching them too.”
—
—
The next day, Ray noticed a shift in the street kids’ gazes.
To be precise, their mana’s hue had changed since yesterday.
The wariness and hostility were still there, but now they were tinged with fear.
“H-Hiiiik!”
“R-run!”
Some kids panicked and fled the moment they noticed Ray approaching.
He didn’t care.
As long as they didn’t get in his way.
From morning to afternoon, Ray roamed the sector, but he still found no clues about magic.
*…I thought there’d be a shop selling magical items. Or something I didn’t know about.*
It was a naive hope.
Sector 49 was still too low-ranked for magic to reach.
The residents lived entirely mundane lives, just like in Sector 50.
They didn’t even know what magic was.
*Tap.*
Ray stopped in front of a bookstore.
The lights were still out.
Its glass windows were cracked, some patched with wooden boards.
“……”
It looked like it had been pelted with rocks.
Walking past it multiple times had clued Ray in.
Through the window, he could see countless books lined up on shelves.
His wandering hadn’t been entirely fruitless.
Even if it wasn’t magic-related, he had learned things unknown in Sector 50.
One of those was about books.
Bundles of paper containing all kinds of knowledge.
They were luxuries beyond the reach of most lower-class citizens.
Two questions arose.
Why did a bookstore exist in Sector 49, where most people were illiterate?
And among those books, could there be something about magic?
*…Should I break the window and go in?*
Plenty of rocks nearby would do the job.
But carrying out that thought wasn’t practical.
It wouldn’t do to be seen breaking into a shop, especially by adults in the slums.
For now, Ray turned away, his steps tinged with regret.
“Hey, wait a moment. Can we talk?”
A group of boys sauntered into view at the front of the alley.
He turned his head.
It was the same in the back.
“……”
He was surrounded, front and back.
He’d sensed them trailing him for a while, and now it seemed they’d been waiting for him to enter the alley.
It was exactly what he wanted.
After all, he’d been thinking of seeking them out directly.
“I’m Phyllos. What’s your name?”
The boy who seemed to be the leader of the group spoke.
He was much taller and had hollow, shadowed eyes that didn’t seem to come from simple fatigue.
He’d seen similar-looking adults before in Sector 50—back-alley vagrants with vacant gazes.
They were always high on cheap drugs.
“……”
“Can’t you at least tell me your name? Where are you from? I’ve never seen you around the streets before.”
It was strange.
Why weren’t they retaliating immediately and instead wasting time asking useless questions?
Ray tilted his head and asked,
“You guys… are you a different group from the ones who came yesterday?”
“We’re the same. You’re the one who beat Anthony, Horn, and Melber half to death, right?”
“That’s right. They had sticky fingers, so I taught them a little lesson. If you’re going to fight too, then hurry up. I don’t have all day.”
“Ah, I think there’s a misunderstanding. We’re not here to fight today.”
“……?”
“Our leader—no, our boss—likes you. Says you’re pretty skilled at fighting.”
Phyllos pulled out a note from his pocket and unfolded it.
After glancing at its contents, he whispered to the boys around him.
“Can you read this?”
“No, I can’t.”
“Me neither.”
“But the boss already explained it out loud.”
“Sure, but he said to deliver it exactly as written.”
Green mana flickered nervously in the boys’ chests.
“Give it to me. I’ll read it myself.”
All eyes turned to Ray.
“You can read?”
“More or less.”
The boys murmured among themselves.
“Isn’t he from the streets? How can he read?”
“Only the boss and Webber can read among us.”
The note was tossed over to him.
Ray unfolded it and read aloud:
*‘Join me. I’ll make sure you never go hungry.’*
The writing showed an effort to be neat, surprisingly decent for a street kid.
“What does it say?” Phyllos asked curiously.
Instead of answering, Ray asked a question of his own.
“How do you decide who’s in charge?”
“What?”
“I’m asking how your group decides its leader.”
Caught off guard, Phyllos hesitated for a moment.
“By fighting. The strongest person becomes the leader—or, the boss.”
“Got it. Sounds good. Let’s go.”
“Go? Where?”
“To meet your boss.”
—
—
Phyllos led Ray to their hideout on the outskirts of the sector, still feeling confused.
*‘If someone tells you to join them, you should at least find out what kind of person they are.’*
He had no reason to refuse. The boss had ordered them to bring him in.
But Phyllos couldn’t shake the feeling that the dynamic had shifted. He’d expected to drag a rebellious kid there by force, not have the kid take the lead.
The destination was an abandoned factory.
Scrap metal was scattered everywhere, and there were no signs of life.
“This is it.”
Phyllos grabbed the massive metal door’s handle and yanked it open with effort.
*Creak—*
The factory’s interior revealed itself with a sharp metallic sound.
It was a large open space. Cracked windows along the railing let in enough light to keep it from being dark.
*Step, step.*
Ray stepped inside.
His shoes crunched against the exposed dirt beneath the broken tiles.
*Creak. Clang. Thud.*
Bolts and scraps of wood scattered underfoot.
The air carried a mix of smells.
The sour tang of metal.
The mustiness of concrete.
The damp earthiness of dirt.
If smells had colors like mana, they would surely swirl together in a chaotic mess here.
*Creak! Bang!*
The metal door slammed shut behind him.
He could hear the footsteps of Phyllos and the other boys following.
*Step, step.*
Ray continued walking.
Around the factory were torn sofas and mattresses where boys sat or lay, watching him with wary eyes.
Their builds were larger than average for their age.
These were clearly fighters who didn’t go out for street work.
Their mana flickered in the same colors—an entangled mix of red and blue.
It felt like a sticky, clinging substance, like glue.
Hostile and unpleasant.
If they all attacked at once, how long would it take to bring them down?
As Ray assessed the situation, a faint emotion stirred within him.
It was so small that he didn’t consciously notice it, but it was a definite sense of excitement and thrill.
The use of magic in combat planted a subtle satisfaction in him.
*Tap.*
Ray stopped walking.
He stood in the center of the factory, where a burning barrel cast its flickering glow.
On a large sofa in front of the fire sat a boy, his body half-sunken into the cushions.
The boy rose and stared at Ray as he spoke.
“So, you’re the one. I’m Kedrick.”
“Ray.”
They exchanged names as Ray’s gaze lingered on the boy’s hand.
A small red gem was embedded in a ring he wore.
From it, mana radiated as crimson as blood.
