Rise Of The Greatest Blade Arcane

"Psst, hey you… You!"

A young boy heard a small whisper near him that made him slowly open his eyes. His frail hands lifted up to his face as he rubbed his eyes slowly. He felt a small headache assault him the moment he regained consciousness and made him squint his eyes. Then, he felt the pain in his back, perhaps due to sleeping next to a rough, stone wall the entire time.

The last thing he noticed was the repulsive smell of whatever place he was in. It was almost like a mix of rotten fish and sewers. Scrunching his face for a moment, he ignored the foul odor and turned to look at the person who rudely awakened him from his nap.

"You finally woke up, lad. I've been calling your name for a while now." The person in the talk was an old, shabby-looking man. He had long, dirty hair that covered his face and an unkept beard that went down to his neck.

He wore dirty, smelly clothes and had a wide, toothy grin on his face. Except, he really had no teeth there, so it isn't toothy to begin with.

The boy gave him a single look before he slowly moved away without trying to hide his disgust. Even if both of them were homeless, this man smelled way worse than this entire jail room.

Seeing the reaction of the boy, the man only smiled further as if he was amused. "You got some guts to sleep in such a place."

Turning around him, the man pointed at other prisoners who were sitting with them in the same room. The atmosphere in the place was, as expected, not the best. Many were simply sitting in their own corner, sleeping, fiddling with their dirty nails, or simply talking to one another.

Some were eyeing the boy and the man with blatantly malicious intents but seemed to restrain themselves for one reason or another.

The boy saw that and simply ignored it. This wasn't the first, nor last time someone gave him that look and at this point, he didn't really care much.

"Why wouldn't I?" Opening his mouth, he replied in a quiet, bored tone. "You've never been to a jail cell around here before?" He asked back as he gave the man a side glance.

"..." The man seemed taken aback by the boy's response. "I… I'm afraid not. I lived my life staying away from trouble. Perhaps that's why I ended up getting the short end of the stick in everything. Haha… I lost my job recently and had to steal some money, they caught me and now I'm here." Chuckling dryly, the man shook his head.

"Is that so?" The boy murmured, totally disinterested in what the man said.

Everyone in this jail cell had their own sob story and how they ended up in there. Some were perhaps due to their own mistakes, while others were simply thrown in the grinder due to circumstances. In both cases, this man was not that special and neither was the boy. They were all in the slammer together.

Ignoring the man, the boy instead put his hand in his old pocket and carefully searched for something. 'It's still there…' He thought to himself before he feigned ignorance and closed his eyes for a moment. 'Judging from the sunlight. I have been asleep for 30 minutes or so… I wonder when they will arrive.'

As he finished that trail of thought, he heard the rustling of a keychain before the door to the jail cell opened widely.

Walking inside were armed police officers in their normal uniform. Looking around, they aimed their prosthesis guns at everyone.

"Nobody goddamn moves!!" One yelled threateningly.

Unsurprisingly, no one moved a muscle as they sat there, staring at the officers with ominous apathy.

"W-What do they want?" The man held his clothes in fear.

The boy didn't reply and simply watched the scene.

After making sure everything was in order, one of the officers stepped forward and moved between the rows of inmates till he stopped in front of one.

"You… Come with me!" Staring down at the frail boy, he said with a cold tone.

The boy slowly looked up for a moment and then faintly nodded his head before he stood up. Immediately, the officer grabbed his forearm and yanked him forward, almost making him fall before starting to drag him toward the door.

The man watched with his lips pursed. Judging from the way they were treating him, he didn't seem like he was leaving.

'I-I doubt he's going to be fine… They won't spare him…' He thought to himself as he closed his eyes. 'May the gods be with you, lad. No one can save you.' He prayed in his head.

Walking outside, the boy silently followed the police officer through the corridors of the station. Many workers passed by them, busily going about their day. They all gave Malice one single, disgusted glance before they ignored him completely.

Slum rats were a common sighting in the station so they didn't care much.

Eventually, they reached the waiting lobby of the station where they walked inside. "Go in!" Throwing the boy forward, he stumbled a few times and then stopped and looked up.

They were now in a beautiful, organized room. A whiff of synthetic air freshener could be smelled in the air as fake plants decorated each corner.

In the middle were a few sofas made especially for high-class visitors. Not that they get visitors of that caliber that often. Still, this room was cleaned regularly in case of an emergency so it always looked presentable unlike the outside waiting lounge for commoners.

"There he is, the wicked bastard!!!" Inside this room, a man, clad in expensive-looking clothes stood up and approached them.

He was rather overweight, with short black hair and an angry look on his face. His teeth were a mix of gold and white. One of his arms was replaced by a metallic prosthesis that worked as perfectly as his other intact arm.

Reaching the boy, he stared at him once before he suddenly sent a flying kick to the boy's side. The latter saw the upcoming attack, but, he didn't move a muscle.

*BANG*

Feeling the sharp pain assault his torso, he closed his mouth and fell back. The man then started kicking and stomping on him ruthlessly.

"You piece of scum! Stealing from me?! Who do you think you are, huh?! A slum rat like you!! Just die in a corner like everyone else!!!" As he hit him, he yelled all kinds of insults while the boy simply took the beating and didn't say a word.

Meanwhile, the officer watched from the side as he lit a cigarette and waited a few moments. Eventually, he spoke.

"I think he had enough, sir."

"Huh?! I still didn't have enough with him! I'm going to break his stupid skull so that he knows not to mess with me!" The man yelled angrily.

"Do not forget that you have tasked us with injecting him with a lethal dose of the 'Mindworm', sir. I doubt he would be able to feel anything after this if you beat him to death." The man replied as he puffed a cloud of smoke.

"..." His response made the man close his mouth as he frowned. Then, he looked down at the motionless boy for a moment. "Tsk, goddamit, fine. Make sure it fries his entire brain so that he can never move again! The filthy trash! Ptuh!" Then, he spat on the boy. "Give me the wallet!"

Hearing that, the boy slowly moved his hand shakily and pulled something out of his pocket. A golden pouch with blue engravings across its frame and center. The blue lines were pulsing feebly as if they were trying to indicate something.

Yanking the pouch from the boy's hand, the man stared at the pouch with dissatisfaction. "Tsk, now I need to recharge it before it spits everything out on me! So annoying!" Saying that, he finally turned around and started walking away.

"Take care of the rest. I'm leaving."

"Yes sir." The officer replied with a casual salute as the door slammed shut. When that happened, the officer sighed, and took another blow from the cigarette before he spoke.

"You can move now. He left." He said with a bored look on his face.

Immediately, the boy rose from the ground as he wiped the corner of his mouth, and spat a mouthful of blood. Then, he slowly stood up and pulled something from under his shirt. It was another smaller pouch, made out of grey material and far fewer blue lines.

Walking to the officer, he opened the pouch, pulled a few gold coins from it, and handed them to the officer. "Your share…" He said.

The officer looked at the few gold coins before he closed his eyes and pocketed them. Then, he watched as the boy started walking to the door. "You really took a beating today, Mal."

"..."

"I wonder for how long you're going to keep doing this before someone realizes we are working together, huh?"

That made the boy stop and look over his shoulder. "Till this city runs out of Marked Nobles and there are no more new faces to steal from." He replied.

"..." His reply made the man force a chuckle as he turned around. "This city will never run out of them. How can we call it hell anymore if there are no demons to run it? Hahaha!"

The boy didn't say another word and opened the door to leave. "Hold on a second." The officer said.

"What?"

"Next time, don't make me catch you so easily. I don't want any problem with those bastards." He said.

The boy nodded his head and left the room.

'What a cunning little shit. He made sure the man's soul pouch was running out of juice before he gave it back to him. He would be running back home as fast as he could before it ran out and wouldn't notice a few gold coins missing. Rich scum are the easiest to steal from. But that kid mastered the craft.'

After that, the man threw the cigarette in the bin and walked out to call for some cleaners. He cannot leave the room assigned for Marked Nobles dirty like that.

***

Neo Nexus, a massive metropolitan city located in the northern peninsula. The moment someone hears the name 'Neo Nexus', their first thought would be 'Opportunity', 'Fortune', and 'Nightlife'.

This massive advanced jungle was the haven for many and consequentially the hell for many others. People from all kinds of places in life came there to try their luck at hitting the jackpot and becoming rich or better yet, become one of the 'Marked'.

This city was a pulsating maze of towering skyscrapers, neon-lit streets, and a perpetual dance between darkness and fluorescent brilliance. There, the skyline was a jagged silhouette of metallic spires, each one a technological and architectural miracle of its own. Each tower was a monument to corporate power and technological prowess, reaching skyward like the fingers of a colossal machine-god.

At ground level, the streets were a chaotic tapestry of cultures, languages, and ideologies colliding in a symphony of urban cacophony. People from all walks of life shuffle through the throngs, their faces illuminated by the glow of holographic advertisements and the flickering of neon signs that adorn every corner.

The air was thick with the scent of fried street food, synthetic fumes, and the ever-present hum of machinery.

Walking through these streets in silence, Malice looked around him. His eyes were shrouded with an invisible mist of exhaustion and boredom. Yes, this sight was simply a boring scene of a daily life he despised more than anyone else.

People walked around him, smiling, frowning, crying, and trying their best to reach something that never existed in the first place. They were all unlucky fools, and so was he.

Then, his eyes wandered to the distant towering skyscrapers. Those cyclopean structures, as terrifying as they looked, were the desire of everyone who lived here. Those towers, after all, belonged to the 'Marked Nobles'.

The 'Marked Nobles'. People born into prestigious families who found their way to the 'World Beyond' and became 'Marked'. Those Marked by the World Beyond were the ones who controlled the world.

They gained supernatural abilities befitting their status and gained fame, money, and everything they desired. They were the true people of that world. Meanwhile, people like Malice and everyone around him roaming these dirty slums were just… Nothing.

They were dead people walking. Nobody cared if they died or lived, not even themselves. The only thing that could link them to the Marked Nobility was that they were all humans, and perhaps that death was the end for all.

Moving through the maze of people around him, Malice made sure to keep the small pouch in his hand hidden. After all, he wasn't the only thief that roamed this place.

Some passersby gave him an interested glance but quickly lost interest. He was just another slum boy, after all. Many like him roamed the streets so they were just like stray cats and dogs.

After a few minutes of walking, Malice ended up taking a detour into a small alley where he vanished from sight. These small alleys in the slums were like complicated intricate mazes that created shortcuts across the entire district.

He knew these paths like the back of his hand so he didn't have a hard time navigating them alone. Some people could be seen moving through the dark alleys but they were all either criminals, 'Mindworm' dealers, or homeless people with no destination.

But, since he knew most of these people, nobody talked to him nor did they care about him. After all, what merit would they gain from a small, frail boy?

Eventually, Malice reached a small, close-ended alley in some corner of the district. There, he crawled his way into a small carton box he had set up previously. Inside of it was a bottle of water he scavenged from one of the restaurants and a piece of chicken bone thoroughly cleaned.

When he sat down, a groan leaked out of his mouth as he felt his battered body shake from pain.

'That bastard really kicked me…' He thought to himself as he touched his side with a sigh. 'At least I have enough money for a while now. I won't need to worry about food.'