The roar of the crowd still echoed behind them as Arthur helped Old Man Tim reattach the wheel to the cart. His hands were still shaking slightly — not from fear, but from the rush.
Tim gave the wheel a quick spin, nodding in satisfaction.
"You've got good hands, boy. Both for fixing and fighting," he said with a chuckle.
Arthur gave a small smile, wiping his brow. "I didn't expect that last fight to be so close."
Tim adjusted the handle of the cart, testing its weight. "Carrin's no joke. You handled yourself well — smart, not just strong."
Arthur looked at his knuckles, a faint bruise forming already.
They began walking through the narrow paths of the slums, cart wheels creaking gently behind them. The sky had turned a deep navy, stars just beginning to show through the city's smoky haze.
"People will start noticing you now," Tim continued. "Some will admire you. Others... won't."
Arthur nodded. "I felt that already. Some Black Maw guys weren't happy."
Tim let out a sigh. "The Black Maw weren't always like this. Long ago, they were just a rough crew trying to protect their turf. But over time, power changes people. Greed, fear, politics… it all twists things."
Arthur looked at him. "You've lived here long, haven't you?"
Tim smiled, eyes distant. "Born and raised. Ashlight Ward, the poorest edge of Fallowmere. Before the city walls stretched this far. Back when the mayor's word didn't reach past the river. This place… it used to have hope."
They passed a burned-down inn, nothing left but half a wall and a crooked chimney.
"Now?" Arthur asked quietly.
Tim shrugged. "Now it's just survival. Most folks don't dream anymore — they just try to get through the week. Gangs run the streets. Guards take bribes. And the nobles up high keep pretending they don't see what's happening."
Arthur stayed quiet, taking it all in.
They reached a small bend in the road, where Tim's humble home sat — a worn-down wooden shack with a faded blue cloth hanging over the doorway.
Tim parked the cart beside it and turned to Arthur.
"You've got something rare, Arthur. Strength, sure. But also... heart. That's harder to find. Don't lose it."
Arthur looked up at him. "Thanks. I won't."
Tim gave him a firm pat on the shoulder. "This world's unfair, always has been. But if you fight smart, help where you can, and keep your eyes open — you might just make something of yourself."
He turned to go, then paused.
"One more thing," he added, with a grin. "If you ever find yourself at a real crossroads — ask yourself this: will your choice help someone else, or just help yourself? The answer isn't always easy. But it'll show you who you're becoming."
Arthur stood there for a moment as Tim disappeared behind the old cloth door.
The night was quiet again.
Far in the distance, the city bells chimed — midnight.
He turned and walked back toward home, hands in his pockets, Aeon quiet in his mind.
But something in the air had changed.
The streets felt different now.
And so did he
....
Arthur returned home just past midnight.
The front door creaked as he pushed it open. A warm lantern flickered inside, casting soft shadows on the walls. The air smelled faintly of stew and herbs.
Myra sat at the small wooden table, her coat draped over the chair, a spoon still in her hand.
"You're late," she said, not looking up.
Arthur gave a small smirk. "Didn't know I had a curfew."
"I stayed up," she replied. "Figured you were either dead or dumb."
Arthur chuckled, setting his bag down and sitting across from her. "Neither. Just... had a fight."
She finally looked up. "A fight?"
"In the arena."
There was a pause.
"You're kidding," she said, voice low.
"I'm not," he said quietly. "Won two matches. Got paid, too."
Myra leaned back in her chair and folded her arms. "Arthur, you know how dangerous that place is. People get killed in the streets over bets. You think the Black Maw just lets someone beat their boys and walk home smiling?"
"I didn't go looking for trouble."
"You never do," she muttered. "But trouble always finds you."
Arthur sighed. "I need money, Myra. For us. For better food. A better place. Maybe someday a real roof that doesn't leak every time it rains."
She was quiet again. Her eyes softened a little.
"I know," she said. "I just... i don't want to lose you."
"You won't," he said, smiling gently. "I promise."
Just then, something shifted.
A faint flicker crossed his vision — blue letters forming silently in the air, only visible to him.
[SYSTEM UPGRADE DETECTED]
You've crossed a major combat threshold.
Your awareness of enemies and allies has evolved.
New Ability Unlocked: STATUS
You can now view basic information and attributes of people you encounter.
Use command: "Status: [Name]" or focus your intent on the target.
Limitation: Higher-leveled individuals may appear obscured or protected.
Arthur blinked, stunned for a second.
"Aeon… did you see that?"
"I did," Aeon replied. "You've grown. The system is adapting accordingly."
"I can see other people's stats now?"
"Yes. But don't overuse it — especially on those far stronger than you. Some might notice."
"Noted."
Arthur looked up at Myra, curious — just to test it.
Status: Myra Hearthwind
Processing…
Name: Myra Hearthwind
Age: 23
Level: 2
Strength: 3
Dexterity: 5
Intelligence: 7
Willpower: 8
Status: Healthy
Talent: Minor Magical Affinity (Dormant)
Arthur's eyes widened slightly.
'Magic? She never mentioned anything…'
"Keep that to yourself," Aeon whispered.
"Yeah," Arthur replied mentally, "of course."
"Everything okay?" Myra asked, noticing his look.
"Yeah," Arthur nodded, smiling. "Just thinking about tomorrow."
She raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
"Get some sleep," she said as she stood and walked toward her room. "You'll need it. You just put a target on your back."
"I know," he whispered.
But deep inside, something had changed again.
And Arthur Greystone was ready for what came next.