Felix cleared out the wallets as he threw them into the flames. Most held nothing of value, but as he went to check one of the last few, a strange sensation suddenly stopped him in his tracks.
Unmistakably quality sense, yet strangely, he didn't trigger it. Could it perhaps have a passive capability?
Opening up the wallet, Felix was surprised by what he saw.
Earlier, he had asked the old imp about the green paper that he had been handed. The imp called it souls, the currency of Hell. Given where he was, he had no hopes of finding a lot.
However, the thing that troubled him was the memory of the first time he had touched a soul. It had vanished instantly. He knew, with absolute certainty, that its disappearance was anything but normal.
Felix reached out with a hesitant finger, touching the bill. It vanished instantly upon contact, dissolving into thin air just as it had earlier.
He focused on the unfamiliar warmth flooding his hands—a distinct pulse of energy identical to the shock from the shop.
[Souls Consumed: 32. One hundred required to awaken further.]
'Hmmm, interesting. It was a bit childish to believe there wasn't more to this 'system', I'll give it that.'
Beyond the mystery of an awakening, he did not know exactly what to make of it aside from desperately needing a workaround. Could indirect methods trigger an exception to the rule?
Despite these revelations, he remained largely unfazed. He was getting by well enough, shoplifting small bits of food whenever the opportunity arose, so food wasn't much of an issue, aside from its questionable health standards.
Searching for a silver lining, he realized he had little else to spend souls on anyway. Grinding for the awakening was a perfectly fine way to pass the time—after all, he still had his own interests to pursue.
Besides, it beat getting a regular job. He hated the idea of a regular job. It felt embarrassing and boring to him. He used this as his main excuse, though other personal reasons kept him from ever applying anywhere.
Even as a child, when social workers and teachers lectured him about his future, he had proudly declared his own personal law: "I don't want to work, no matter what happens!"
He had kept true to that vow ever since. Instead of trading his hours for a paycheck, he dedicated his time to learning tricks—mastering how to get by, even when it meant breaking the law.
Since the sky never changed, telling time by looking up was impossible. Felix simply relied on the sector's habits to track the hours.
Often, his moves were timed by the shifts at a small grease-works down the block, knowing exactly when the small groups of workers would get let out and head toward the local dive bars.
By watching that tiny crowd spill out onto the main road, he knew when the sidewalk would finally fill up. He left his shelter and found a dark corner.
Staring into the street, things arrived right on schedule. By analyzing the pedestrian flow, he inferred a precise spot where the crowd would bottle up. In that small window of time, he quickly ate an entire apple, chewing straight through the core and the stem, before spitting out the seeds.
Observing some of the demons beginning to shove each other to make space on the crowded sidewalk, he made note of some interesting targets.
One burly demon kept his shoulder rigid, instinctively guarding a specific side pocket, while another walked with an overconfident stride, completely ignoring a heavy sag in his jacket lining.
Felix threw himself into the crowd, catching their rhythmic sway step by step. His gaze locked onto his mark. The arrogant demon. He began to close the distance.
Felix figured the guy was hauling something seriously valuable. He was also way too cocky about it. Judging by the heavy sag of his clothes, it wasn't just a fat wallet.
To add to that, this demon walked around like he owned the place. He kept looking up at everyone instead of watching his own back. The guy clearly thought he was too tough to get robbed.
Truly, you had to wonder where that confidence came from.
In two strides, he had managed to get close enough to act. Letting his hand stay low and out of sight, he gripped the bottom corner of the pocket from the outside, pushing the material outward.
The heavy wallet inside slid straight to the top opening. Along with it came a slim, compact object clipped right next to the leather. Felix plucked them both away and let the coat drop back into place.
Slip, push, and swipe. It was over before the demon even took another step forward. After a few more effortless lifts, he eventually withdrew.
He stopped some distance away, a smirk on his face and a heavy pocket at his hip. Behind him, the first realization of his crime finally turned into screams.
As he reached a pitch-black alleyway, a surprising force gripped his arm and violently yanked him into the backstreet.
Despite the sudden whiplash, Felix's instincts took over. His hand darted into his pocket, his fingers secretly wrapping around whatever he had—which in this case was a sleek folding knife.
Standing right before him in the shadows was a strange demon. They sported a wide, unbreaking smile, and the bangs of their hair completely covered their eyes, adding mystery.
"You have absolutely wonderful hands for a thief, darling. But your posture is simply dreadful. You're holding yourself all wrong."
They advanced with a terrifying calm, humming a sweet tune.
"Stop! Stay away from me!"
Felix backed further into the dark, his hand hidden in his pocket. He felt his back strike cold surface—undoubtedly a brick wall.
'Shit!'
The sensation in his chest arrived not with a roar, but as a slow, creeping chill that froze the blood in his veins.
A tight knot clamped down on Felix's chest, squeezing the air from his lungs and making it hard to stand. The worst part was how familiar it felt. It was the exact same dread that used to corner him in his past life. It was almost like a cage in a way.
His breathing grew shallow, getting caught in his throat as the memories threatened to swallow him whole.
He forced his fingers down, wrapping them hard around the hilt of his knife. The metal bit into his palm, a sharp anchor of pain to ground him.
Squeezing tighter, he threw his entire weight into the grip until the trembling in his knuckles finally ceased. No one could see him shake. Not now.
But as the demon's endless smile drew closer, Felix realized he needed to do something.
"Come on now. Give me some real passion! Show me you aren't like every other common, drab little rodent. Honestly, if you are going to address a future icon, you simply must—"
The boast vanished instantly, replaced by a stunned pause. Even the demon's smile faltered, overtaken by an expression of disbelief as Felix made his move mid-sentence.
Lunging forward, he drove the knife straight into the soft tissue of the demon's throat. Keeping his grip firm, Felix violently twisted the handle to ensure the strike was definitive.
When Felix yanked the bloody metal free, a move that took every ounce of strength his frail arms possessed, he watched the demon slump to the floor. He had to take a step back and finally catch his breath.
The demon was frantically clutching its slit throat, desperately trying to cup the thick blood spilling between its fingers, forcing the bubbling liquid back into the open wound. The craziest thing was they were somehow still smiling.
When Felix was still alive, he had seen plenty of people die, sometimes indirectly by his own hands. This was the first time he had done the deed himself.
He had expected to feel some crashing wave of guilt or remorse, but as he listened to the pathetic gurgles coming from the floor, it only left him with a deep disgust and a turn in his stomach. Without a backward glance, Felix bolted from the alley.
After his leave, a handful of aberrant demons came out from the deeper shadows, forming a quiet circle around the bleeding wretch. Not only did they refuse to rush to his aid, but none of them even seemed remotely concerned.
One of the arriving demons crouched casually beside their bleeding companion, poking his shoulder.
"You are embarrassing."
The wounded demon tried to reply, but the sound died in a bubbling gargle.
"Save it."
The crouched figure stood up and brushed the dust off their knees.
"I truly did not think he possessed the nerve to strike."
"They were panicking and backed into a corner, nya~ What else did you expect?"
An alluring voice called out:
"That they were a chump. And you know chumps hardly resort to violence when it comes down to it. Besides, I had no clue he would react like that. Or that he had a weapon."
The group collectively looked down at their groaning companion. After some silence, someone finally asked, "So, what did we learn?"
"His form is awful. Terrible. Absolutely terrible. It was like he learned how to fight from a movie."
The amusement slowly faded from the air, giving way to a more professional atmosphere.
"Something worth mentioning is the lack of hesitation. Not only that, but he went straight for the throat—something intended to end the fight immediately. That tells me he's a rookie, but he isn't a stupid one."
"And judging by how little his demeanor changed, we can definitely assume this wasn't his first time seeing blood. To be frank, I believe he may have killed people before he fell."
On the ground, the peculiar demon gave a weak, dramatic groan. The deep gash across his throat, while still smeared with thick crimson, had already begun to knit itself back together.
"Well. ."
The wounded demon, the supposed future icon of the underworld, glanced toward the mouth of the alley where Felix had vanished.
"In a way, he kind of reminds me of my dad. I think I like him."
"Huh?!"
"If he is half as interesting as he looks, he is going to be the root of a lot of our future problems."
Far away, Felix huddled in the deepest corner of his dumpster, trying to quiet his breathing.