Rise of the Broken System

The next morning, Arthur finished his shift early again. Jarrik didn't even question it anymore — just grunted, nodded, and marked the board.

Instead of heading home, Arthur took the longer route — east of the Ashlight Ward, past the cracked aqueducts and crumbling bathhouse ruins. The buildings here slanted like they were built on a shrug, and the streets narrowed to thin veins of alley and dust.

Locals called it Emberlight Row.

It wasn't much brighter than the slums, but it buzzed differently. Older. Tighter. Like things here whispered just below the surface.

Market stalls leaned against stone walls, hawking strange things — serpent oil, powdered chalkroot, coin-shaped amber stones that pulsed if you held them long enough. A pair of street musicians played bone flutes that made dogs howl.

Arthur kept walking, watching faces.

His new Status ability flashed up as he passed:

Name: Elra Vel

Age: 29

Level: 3

Dexterity: 5

Status: Restless

Occupation: Courier (Cinder Crow, Probationary)

He paused.

Elra was fast. Real fast. Arthur barely caught the flicker of her cloak before she turned and saw him.

Then she smirked.

"Well, well. The arena rat with the solid right hook."

Arthur froze for a half-step.

"You were there?"

"Front row," she said, brushing hair out of her eyes. "I had a coin on you. You won me six silvers. Thanks for that."

Arthur stayed quiet.

She walked a slow circle around him, hands in her pockets.

"Carrin didn't take it well. Said you cheated."

"I didn't."

"I know. He's just sore. Broke two teeth."

Arthur raised a brow. "You're Cinder Crow?"

She tapped the red insignia stitched into her glove. "Probationary. Not branded yet. But close."

Her eyes narrowed slightly. "And you… you've got the scent. I don't know what it is. But it's not normal."

Arthur's hand hovered just near his coat, where the dagger rested.

"I'm not looking for trouble."

"Good. Neither am I."

She stepped back. "Just keep your face low. Crows remember people who make noise."

And with that, she was gone — disappearing into the crowd like smoke in wind.

"Aeon?" Arthur whispered internally.

"She wasn't lying. She has instincts. Good ones."

"Think she saw the dagger?"

"No. But she saw you. And that's almost worse."

Arthur continued walking. A few streets deeper, Emberlight changed again. The smell of iron and spice drifted on the air. Old prayer flags hung limp from balconies. Statues of forgotten gods crumbled into the moss.

He stopped in front of a fountain that no longer ran.

A man sat at its edge, hood pulled low, sharpening a long, curved blade.

Arthur didn't bother activating Status — something in his gut told him it wouldn't work.

The man didn't look up, but spoke:

"You bought the blade."

Arthur tensed.

"How do you—"

"I know the forge. I know the coin you dropped. And I know what's waking."

Arthur took a step back. "You with the Crows?"

The man chuckled — low and rough. "No, boy. I'm what came before them."

He stood slowly, taller than expected. A scar ran across the center of his throat like a stitched line.

"Keep that dagger close. It won't protect you yet… but it will try."

Then he turned and vanished down a side street without another word.

Arthur returned just before dusk.

Myra was patching a torn blanket by candlelight.

"You always come back with a look," she said without glancing up.

"What kind of look?"

"The kind that says, 'I may or may not have talked to dangerous people again.'"

He cracked a grin. "Not dangerous. Just... weird."

She didn't press. Just nodded. "We're down to one loaf, by the way. Might want to hit the baker early."

Arthur sat beside her, pulling the pouch of coins from his coat. Still 2 silver, 28 bronze. Enough to survive.

But not enough to stay still.

Not anymore.

The day after Arthur brought home the silver coins, something changed in Myra.

It wasn't the money.

It was the look in his eyes — like he had stepped one foot into something dangerous, something that wouldn't let go. And if he was going to dive deeper into that world… she needed to do her part too.

The next morning, after Arthur left for work, she didn't stay home.

She went straight to the market side of Ashlight Ward — a crowded alley called Weaver's Spine — where vendors laid out blankets and boards and shouted over each other. Most were old men or dusty traders selling scrap metal, stale bread, or dyed fabrics.

But what Myra saw was a gap.

A woman was coughing into her sleeve, hunched over a stall that sold herbal tea. Another was arguing over how much for a feverleaf wrap. A child cried in the corner, shivering, while his mother bartered for a pain balm.

There were no healers here. No one who knew herbs. Just merchants.

And Myra… she'd learned. From her mother. From books scavenged from trash piles. From helping sick kids in their building with fever compresses made from bark and vine ash.

She knew she could help — and earn

She returned home just before Arthur came back from exploring Emberlight.

While he sat quietly, lost in thought, Myra laid out everything on the floor.

Old wooden boxes, a half-split crate, broken wheels, a tattered curtain she stitched the corners of. She even borrowed a hammer from Old Man Tim across the alley, promising to return it before night.

Arthur glanced at her, confused.

"You redecorating?"

"No," she said, kneeling with thread in her mouth, "building a stall."

"A what?"

"A vendor stall. I'm going to start selling."

Arthur looked up. "Selling what?"

She smirked. "The thing I actually know. Medicine."

She woke before dawn and packed everything into a ragged cloth sack: tied herbs, bottles of oil, wraps of dried fireleaf and sleeproot. Then she found an open spot near the well — where people gathered and rested. High traffic, lots of pain, no competition.

By the time Arthur arrived (late), she'd already made her first two sales.

"Where'd you even get all these herbs?" he asked.

"I've been gathering them for months," she replied. "You think I just sit around while you play with rusty knives?"

[Myra's Early Inventory – Day 1]

3x Pain Balm (burnroot and gillflower mix)

4x Sleeproot wraps

2x Fireleaf boil sachets

1x Herbal compress for bruising

Total earned: 3 silver, 12 bronze

Plus: One thank-you loaf, and a child's button

Back at Home That Night

They sat across from each other — Arthur bruised from training, Myra covered in powder dust from dried herbs.

Neither said it out loud, but both knew:

They were moving.

Not fast. Not loudly. But forward.