1. Dark Place

A/N: Hello, everyone! This is my new work, the one that's taking the place of GML. I wanted to get the first chapter out to you, so that you can decide if you want to stick around for the ride. I'm not sure when it's launching on Royal Road, so spread the word if you're enjoying it. For now, I'm just going to focus on making this story as perfect as I can, and making sure I can write it for as long as I wrote MTPDDAT. This new story is a Cultivation/LitRPG novel. It might seem cultivation light at first, but I'm definitely writing it cultivation heavy at its heart.

A/N: Thanks so much for sticking around!

Ike scraped the flat blade down the monster’s hide. Prickly hairs dropped to the floor at his feet, scattering around threadbare shoes. Holes in the thatched roof let in scraps of light. Outside, other workers skinned monsters, chopped bone, cut meat, and sectioned hide, working on the recent delivery of monster corpses from the outpost near the wall. Ike sat alone, on the only stool in the space. The only one caged within the hut’s walls. Stretched hide after stretched hide marched off into the darkness, lined up like dark sails. Underneath, dark, rotting wood gave way to a crawlspace full of years of hairs and other refuse.

Ike’s blade moved swiftly. Swirling around a knot, he finished the last swipe, lifted his stool, and scooted to the next hide. The shortest path to clean the hide was mapped out in his mind before his hand touched the hide. There was no time in the reeking dark. Only money—money that crept closer with every pass of the razor. Five more hides, and he’d have enough.

Someone thumped into his back and flung him forward, off the stool. The hide rushed up. Ike pitched himself sideways to protect it, but couldn’t lean far enough to dodge the hide rack. Forehead met wood pole, and sharp pain snapped through his skull. He put a hand to his forehead. His fingertips came back red, trembling.

“Sorry, kid. Didn’t see you there. You’re all skin and bones.” Sean crossed his meaty arms, a threat in the gesture.

Ike nodded. Picking up his stool, he walked away into the row of hides, escaping the outer edge of the aisles where Sean could easily reach him. Eye on the prize. Get your skill and get out. No time for being stupid. He wiped his forehead and kept going. 

“Creepy kid.”

“Don’t bother, Sean. He’s owner’s nephew.” Nora walked in, carrying a stack of tanned leather over one shoulder. She thumped it down on a table and got to work folding it. Tied bundles piled up beside her.

Sean glanced at her. “That why he gets a stool?”

Nora shrugged. “All I know, is he’s Jaco’s nephew. I’m not saying he gets special treatment. I’m just saying, he gets a stool.”

Ike’s eyes cut to Nora. If only they knew. Ugly emotions bubbled up, but he pushed them down. Now wasn’t the time. It was never the time. Once he bought his skill orb, maybe. But not yet.

Sean stomped off, an ugly look on his face. Nora and Ike went back to ignoring one another, and time passed by.

Someone banged on the wall of the hut. Ike swept the blade down the fifteenth monster hide, cutting the last fur from the skin, then looked up.

A woman leaned against the doorframe, silhouetted in the reddish light of the setting sun. “I’m leaving. If you want to get paid for the day, get your ass out of there.”

Ike jumped up, quickly tidying up. “Coming!”

The woman retreated, and he followed her into a small courtyard.

Larger buildings loomed on all sides. One, an enormous warehouse, held bones, cores, and finished leathers. Behind them, fresh monster bodies piled on the earth by the complex’s gate, waiting to be processed. To Ike’s left, the low, dark meat processing building stretched across a large portion of land. From here, he could only just make out the skinless, headless, footless corpses dangling from the hooks filling the building’s entire interior. The enormous tannery vats stood on the opposite side, not far beyond his hide-cleaning shed. Mercifully, the winds blew away from him today, carrying much of the tannery’s reek away. Nonetheless, he still wore a cloth around his nose and mouth, scented with wildflowers. On good days like today, it completely masked the scent. On bad days…it was better than nothing.

“How many skins did you clean today?” Liz asked, counting coppers from a metal chest.

Ike tugged the cloth down below his mouth. “Fifteen.”

She turned, squinting at him. “Fifteen?”

“You can check.”

“I believe you. It’s just…damn, kid. You get faster every day.” Liz counted out coppers, fifteen falling into her palm. She held out her hand.

Ike shook his head, refusing to take the coins. “You didn’t withhold ten coins. For my debt.”

She winked. “I forgot. Take it, kiddo.”

“Please. My debt,” Ike repeated. If his uncle found out he wasn’t repaying his debt, he’d make Ike’s life a living hell. He’d rather starve on five coins than face his uncle’s wrath.

Liz clicked her tongue. “You can be so un-cute.” She counted ten coins out of her hand and put them back in the chest, leaving him with five. “There. Five coins. You happy?”

Ike nodded. He took the coppers and stored them in his belt pouch, fastening the strings tight around the leather belt. Without another word, he took off at a jog.

“See you tomorrow,” Liz called after him. The chest clanged as its halves met, and the lock clunked shut.

Ike waved, but didn’t slow down. Never enough time in the day.

He wove his way through the slums. His uncle would rather live like a king in the slums than merely live comfortably in the undercity proper. His villa sprawled over the side of the hill that stretched from the edges of the undercity to the far boundary of the slums. The original house had long since vanished under decades of expansions, leaving a mess that spanned the full height of the hill.

Dozens of construction styles and whatever materials were available at the time went into the house willy-nilly. Here, leftover bricks climbed up the wall; there, castwood too dinged for the undercity made an arched entrance. Even monster bones didn’t escape, the cracked things propping up a roof constructed from scarred monster scales unfit for sale. The ‘villa’ climbed four stories along the hillside. It stairstepped up the hill, each step more ramshackle than the last. Peaked roofs, flat roofs, and thatched roofs all mingled together in the same massive building, sharing nothing but their state of disrepair.

Smaller huts rented by his uncle’s workers clustered around it. Not one to let a single copper escape his grasp, his uncle charged exactly one copper less than the next cheapest housing around, thus clawing back a sizable chunk of his workers’ wages. Sean stood in the door of one, a bottle in one hand, gazing numbly down the hill toward the distant wall that closed them all in, his back to the ever-present overcity that hovered high above.

Ike turned away. That was one thing his mother had bought him: a roof over his head. As long as he worked for his uncle, he didn’t have to rent a hut. He could stay in the grand villa. He was family, after all.

The word made his lips curl. Family. His whole body tensed. He pushed it down, forcing himself to relax. As if his servitude could be considered a favor. As if living under his uncle’s fist could be considered a favor. As if any of this—

A shallow breath, long and slow. He forced himself to breathe deep, far enough away from the tannery that smoke, body odor, rot, and raw sewage were the worst things he smelled.

Just a few more. He touched his pouch, reassured by the quiet jingle of the coins, and nodded to himself. 

As the sun set, he jogged into one of the grand villa’s several courtyards. This particular courtyard was forgotten by everyone, but particularly his uncle. The overgrown remains of what might have once been meant to be a garden filled it.

Here, out of sight, he usually worked out, doing what little he could to improve himself, but tonight, after one jumping jack, his vision turned strange, and he fell against the wall instead. Ike shook his head delicately, feeling the ache of today’s blow. A fire burned in his gut, but he forced himself to stay still. Exercises could wait. It would do him no good to push himself, only to injure himself yet worse.

Sprawling out on the scraggly grass, he turned his eyes to the sky, where the cloud-white overcity floated. From here, it almost looked like a cloud, perfectly white and puffy. The glittering city atop it appeared as a dream, shimmering and splendid. He let out a longing sigh. To be among them, those hunters, adventurers, and mages, and look down on the city and slum below.

He could faintly see them now, flitting through the sky like living gods, dressed in the finest silks and velvets, glittering with gold and jewels. A young lady caught his eye. She was about his age, but so different. A perfect face. Beautiful eyes. A delicate pink dress, like rose petals. Servants at her shoulders, following her as she strode through the sky.

And him, down below. Dressed in rags. His shallow-cheeked face, oily bangs falling in his face. Plodding over the earth like a bug, she the fluttering swallow that could swoop down and devour him in one bite. He imagined it, for a second, that perfumed rosy goddess striking him down where he laid. How long would he lie here, behind the bushes? Lost to the world. Nothing to anyone.

Ike’s fists curled, clenching the grass, and he glared up, not at her, but at all of them. Those flitting birds in the sky. So far, and yet, so close.

He wouldn’t stop. Not until he stood at the top of it all. Until he floated up there, not a servant, but a lord. Walking on the sky and flying with the gods. Draped in more gold than graced the gods’ temples down in the muck of the slums.

He had to escape his uncle to reach the heavens. Standing, Ike jogged up to the downhill side of the villa and jumped, grabbing the edge and pulling himself onto the roof. Far away, below the slums, past the farmlands, and beyond the forest, a wall marked the edge of his world. The awakened in the overcity watched over the safe lands on the near side of the wall. Monster-infested wilds reached to the horizons beyond it.

Without the wall, ordinary people would face monsters with power beyond imagining. Dangerous wyrms as large as small houses, who could down ten grown men in one sitting. Ferocious dire wolves with teeth bigger than Ike’s forearm and the ability to spit venom fifty yards. Magical carbuncle rabbits that cast fireballs as easily as breathing. Ike had heard it all. Seen it all, too, in the kills that adventurers and hunters brought to his uncle’s facility. That wall kept them safe.

Ike narrowed his eyes, staring past the wall with all his might. He rejected it in his heart. That wall kept them servile. Pathetic. Beholden to the powerful few, like pets or livestock. Him, his fellow workers, even his uncle, all nothing before the wall. The only way to break free was to become one of them. One of the strong.

Activate the System.

The sun set. Twilight fell, obscuring his view of the wall. Ike touched his pouch. His uncle should’ve passed out drunk by now.

Winding out of the courtyard, he found a door and passed into the building. Untying the pouch from his belt, he retied it on the inside of his pants. His uncle might have watered the wine tonight. He couldn’t be too careful.  

Inside, the walls leaned against one another, haphazard and crooked. Trash piled up at their feet. Ike passed a table laden with empty bottles and edged past a black-splatter nest of cockroaches, their antennae twitching. Down, down, down the wandering stairs, deeper into the heart of the villa, dank and dark, darkening as he walked.

The whole villa was trash, as far as Ike was concerned, but the parts where his uncle lived were worse. The man never cleaned after himself nor bothered with basic housekeeping. The best parts of the villa were the parts his uncle had forgotten. Nothing but dust marred the floors there.  

One of his uncle’s bodyguards laid on a couch, muscular body rippling with each breath. He hugged a bottle in one arm. The badge on his belt declared him a Rank 1 adventurer, allowed to leave the city walls.  

Ike glanced at him. His nose wrinkled at the stench of alcohol clouding around the man. Someone else who’d failed to overcome his uncle. Someone else who’d fallen prey to the slums. Someone who, despite awakening, still toiled inside this tiny country. Ike walked on, hiding his disapproval in his heart.

Ike squeezed sideways through a narrow hallway and into the forgotten part of the villa. Dust clad every abandoned chair and lost table. His footsteps marked the only path on the floor.

He followed that path halfway through the house, then leaped off it onto a chair. The path through the dust turned away, leading a searcher in the wrong direction. Ike bounced from chair to rug to countertop to shattered remnant of a table. From an ottoman, he leaped and hooked his hands on a doorway’s trim and swung into a small room twisted away in the heart of the villa. There, at last, he landed, hurrying into a corner of the room. He knelt and pried up a floorboard.

Empty. Completely empty.

Ike stared. His brows furrowed. He reached into the space, running his hand around the muddy hollow, disbelieving even as his heart sunk into his stomach, even as his fingertips found nothing but cold, wet clay. No. No. No. Not again. Please. Not again. Anything but—

A hand gripped the back of his head and drove it into the ground. A deep voice, slurred from alcohol, growled, “Hiding money from me, boy?”

He gritted his teeth. Saying anything now would only egg his uncle on. Silence was his only defense.

“Heh. Afraid to answer, huh?” His uncle pulled his head away from the floorboards and looked him in the eye. They shared the same crystal blue eyes as Ike’s mother, though they shared no other family resemblance. Sagging eyebags and bloodshot eyes, thick, hateful lips, cauliflowered ears from a prideful history long since abandoned, a jowly chin that jiggled when he spoke. Ike hated every inch of that face, every feature of it. If he could erase his eyes, he would, if only to share nothing with the man before him.

Seeing Ike’s lack of response, his uncle’s upper lip curled. He slammed Ike’s face into the floor, over and over. Ike didn’t fight, already knowing it was pointless. His uncle had been a Rank 2 adventurer, back in the day. An unawakened person like him stood no chance.

Ike braced himself against each blow, absorbing as much of the force with his arms and body as he could. “Stupid. Fucking. Filth. Trash. Stealing. My. Money!”

At last, he released Ike. Standing, he dusted his hands off and spat. A gooey blob struck the ground by Ike’s head. “You know how much you owe me, boy?”

Silence. Blood dripped down Ike’s face, the cut on his forehead reopened. The world fuzzed a little at the edges, wobbly and unclear. Every part of his face burned, hot, already starting to swell.

His uncle kicked him in the gut, lifting him off the ground. He hit the ground and rolled, adjusting his angle toward the center of the room so he wouldn’t strike the wall next kick. The uncle loomed over him, casting him in shadow. “Answer!”

Ike swallowed back a mouthful of blood. He cast his eyes downward, hating the word even as he said it. “Yes.”

“Yes?”

“I know how much I owe,” Ike muttered.

“You’re family, so I’m letting you get away with paying interest. If you have extra money, it goes straight to principal, you know? Principal!” The uncle shook his head, glaring down at Ike.

Ike resisted the urge to glare back. Principal. Right. Any extra money he gave went to his uncle’s alcohol, and never to his debt.

It was a losing game. No way out. He could only suffer, and lose, and remain in his uncle’s debt his entire life, as long as he let his uncle stay in control.

The skill orb was meant to be his salvation. And now…

From the floor, he eyed the man, body prickling with disgust from proximity alone. Fat covered what had once been impressive muscles, and he stumbled slightly where he stood, but the man’s power hadn’t left. The pain of the kick still ached in his gut, and his face ached fiercely, nose throbbing. He wanted to touch it, to find out if it was broken, but remained still, afraid to show his uncle weakness.

Strong. Powerful. And yet, so, so horribly pathetic. The watery, alcoholic eyes. The swollen red nose. That wobble. Pathetic.

And who’s under that pathetic man’s thumb?

His uncle went to leave, then stopped. He turned back. His eyes narrowed. “Your eyes. Those fucking eyes.”

Ike lowered his lashes, but didn’t look away, on the watch for more attacks.

A boot flew his way. Mustering all his strength, he threw himself with the kick, rolling dramatically across the floor for his uncle’s satisfaction. A pained expression on his face, he panted, half-closing his eyes. Is that what you want? Leave me alone.

His uncle harrumphed. He pointed over his shoulder, at the wall and the world beyond. “Just like your useless mother. She thought she could leave this city. She thought she could survive out there. And what happened? Came limping to me one day, almost dead, a toddler leading her by the arm. Bullshit. What bullshit.”

He stomped off, muttering under his breath as he did. “Cost a fuckin’ fortune to fix her up, and what’d she do? Die on me anyways. Fuckin’ hell. You better pay back her debt before you die.”  

Ike laid there, waiting. The footsteps faded. He counted to ten, then twenty, then finally pushed himself upright. Dusting himself off, he peered around the doorframe to make sure his uncle had really left, then patted his belt. A small, fat pouch of coins bulged just under his belt.

He smirked, allowing himself a single moment of satisfaction. “Fuck you, old man.”

In the next moment, his heart plunged. He felt the coins, the ten, maybe fewer, coins. Enough for a meal and a night at an inn. Enough for a new shirt. Nothing. He had nothing.

It wasn’t enough. It wouldn’t be enough. His jaw trembled, whole body tensing. Years. It had taken years to gather those coins. Frustrated, he punched the wall. “Fuck!”

Years. Years under his uncle’s thumb. Years pinching and saving, eating half as much as he needed, hiding and scrimping, and his uncle—

A shallow breath. Ike closed his eyes. I still have some coins. Focus on the positive. Focus on what I can do.

He bit his lip, forcing himself to focus. A knife, maybe. If he was quick enough… but no. Not against a Rank 2. Even if he attacked his uncle while he slept, without a System, he’d never be able to move fast enough to finish the job before his uncle woke up and ended him.

What next? Years of saving, again? Rage rushed to his head the second the words came to mind, jaw instantly grinding. His nose flared, breath short. Something. There had to be something. Another option. Another way to—

KA-BLAM!

Startled, Ike looked up, searching for a window. Light blared from the next room over. He sprinted to its window, resting his hands on the glassless frame and pushing the waxed paper covering out of the way.

Far overhead, figures fought back and forth, warring in the skies. Momentarily, one broke away and threw. A metallic orb arced from their hand across the sky, trailing fire.

Ike watched it, his heart fluttering with desire.

Real magic. The kind of magic ordinary people would kill for. Whoever it lands near is going to be a lucky man.

It flew on, down from the overcity, over the undercity, down and down, screeching along. Ike’s eyes widened.

It’s going to land in the slums.

Holy shit, it’s going to land in the slums!

Throwing himself through the window frame, Ike sprinted toward the fireball, his heart in his throat, fire in his eyes.

Whoever it lands near…? Whoever it lands near?! Bullshit! This is my chance. I’m not going to let anyone else take it. I’m getting out of these slums. And no one’s going to stop me!