Sometime during his uncomfortable time in the dumpster, many thoughts occurred to Felix surrounding his new abilities.
Outside his shelter, Felix leaned against a wall and watched pedestrians walk and vanish around a corner. Even here in the underworld, life looked remarkably unchanged.
'Alright. Let's make this the thirteenth attempt.'
Before doing anything, Felix stretched to ensure he was in peak condition. Once he was done, he walked over to behind a larger demon.
Sensing quality was too abstract to grasp, so he simplified it by merging it with what already came naturally to him.
His first simplification was inspired by 'Marco Polo', a favorite childhood game, and a manga about a rubber-bodied pirate that a friend had shown him.
With the quiet desire to find something close by, he closed his eyes, transforming the world into a blank canvas where his focus could thrive.
Subsequent experiments proved this still wasn't enough, but Felix had come up with a possible solution. After a long, deep breath, he released a sigh.
He imagined it as an extension of his own skin, a projection of his energy going out into the air. Like a ripple spreading across water, the wave reacted to everything it touched.
When it struck an outside force. .
It was a strange, formless knowing. A faint outline wavered in his awareness, giving him a vague impression of the figure's massive scale.
He knew, with absolute certainty, that something was hidden inside the demon's sleeves. The feeling was faint, operating more like an emotional radar. It carried an undeniable certainty. Whatever was in there, it was special.
Felix didn't hesitate. Opportunity in the underworld was fleeting, and his window was closing as the hulking figure drifted toward the turn.
He brought his hands up, pressing his thumbs against his knuckles, he offered a small, sly smirk. After closing the distance and slipping into the demon's blind spot, he extended his right hand.
His limbs were lean, his fingers naturally nimble and practiced from years of avoiding honest work.
With a fluid, snake-like motion, his hand glided deep into the folds of the demon's oversized sleeve. His fingertips brushed against various textures.
Operating on pure instinct, he pinched, hooked, and lifted separate items in one seamless sweep. The demon rounded the corner, completely oblivious that its hidden treasures were now tucked safely away in Felix's own pockets.
Throwing his arms up, he yelled at the top of his voice:
"What a rush!"
After many trials and errors, something finally showed a result. The unique ability known as quality sense was something he could finally control.
Felix was glad to be alone; otherwise, someone would have caught the bizarre, proud smirk twisting his lips.
Walking in the opposite direction, his mind turned to his other ability: avarice inducement. Yet, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't make it work.
Although that pissed him off, he could only wonder if he had approached the situation or idea incorrectly.
Plunging his hands into his pockets, he eagerly pulled out his spoils to examine exactly what his quality sense had locked onto.
First, a brass knuckle bottle opener, a thick key ring, a battered wallet, and a half-empty pack of cigarettes. The first thing he checked was the wallet.
Tearing it open, he found zero cash. Instead, a thick wad of receipts spilled out. The guy definitely got around.
He turned his attention to the cigarettes next.
The brand was strange to him, but the real important thing was a cheap plastic lighter, wrapped in a peeling sexual clown sticker.
'The key ring could come in handy in the future though.'
After his first successful theft in Hell, he spent the rest of his time refining his supernatural power, coming to view the strange ability as the ultimate blessing.
Over time, the dumpster accumulated a hoard of junk that Felix had stolen. He didn't care to catalog the pile; it was simply his, and some of it looked worth a pretty penny.
Felix had also explored a few miles around his shelter to familiarize himself with the area. His initial impression was right: he was definitely in a low-income area.
If a building wasn't a rundown, privately owned apartment, it was an abandoned shell that local demons had claimed as their own—a grim pattern Felix had noted several times since entering the area.
On the cracked sidewalks, displaced souls drifted aimlessly or huddled around rusted barrels crackling with open flames for warmth.
Only a handful of stores remained open, matching the state of the first shop he had encountered.
Curiously, the few establishments still managing to survive dealt almost exclusively in food or renting. Felix felt a wave of relief at the discovery, though a nagging hesitation told him not to trust the convenience just yet.
Then, during a routine theft, he made quite the discovery.