The morning Shouyo turned fifteen, the air in Kutsilyo felt different to him. It wasn't the usual stifling weight of oppression, but a charged anticipation, like the hush before a storm. His new resolve pulsed beneath his skin. He had spent years observing the grim dance of power in the village, the mercenaries' heavy-handed rule, the bandits' opportunistic strikes, and the quiet despair of his own people. Today, that observation would begin to bear fruit. His target, as subtly chosen as the silent shift of river pebbles, was Grimo, a bandit leader whose arrogance had recently grown to dangerous levels. Shouyo needed to understand the true nature of their hold, and where its weaknesses lay. With a quiet nod to himself, he headed for the village market, a bustling, chaotic hub where the lines between desperate villagers and swaggering thugs often blurred.
The market was a cacophony of shouts, haggling, and the rhythmic clang of a blacksmith's hammer. Shouyo navigated the crowd with practiced ease, his unassuming gait allowing him to blend into the background, a ghost in his own village. His eyes, however, missed nothing. He noted Grimo's men, loud and boisterous near a crude ale stand, their attention more on their drinks than their surroundings. This was good. Distraction was an ally. He was about to begin his casual eavesdropping when a blur of motion caught his eye. A small, nimble figure, barely taller than his chest, darted from the shadows of a ramshackle stall. It was a girl, with hair like spun moonlight and eyes that held the guarded intelligence of a street cat. She moved with a practiced grace, her hand dipping into the coin pouch of a burly mercenary, one of the elite guards belonging to the mercenary captain, not Grimo's faction.
Before Shouyo could even fully process the scene, the mercenary roared, his hand slapping his empty pouch. "Thief! Get back here, you little rat!"
The girl, Lindsy, was fast. She weaved through the market, her small frame an advantage in the dense crowd. But the mercenary was faster, fueled by rage, and his heavy boots pounded the dirt close behind her. Panic flickered in Lindsy's eyes as she saw a dead end approaching – a stack of empty barrels against a wall. Instinctively, Shouyo reacted. As Lindsy scrambled desperately for an escape, he yanked on a loose tarp covering a vegetable stall, creating a momentary, flapping barrier. He then pointed subtly towards a narrow gap between two overflowing carts, a path only someone small and quick could squeeze through.
Lindsy, understanding his silent signal, slipped through the gap just as the mercenary crashed into the tarp, snarling in frustration. She glanced back at Shouyo, her wide eyes holding a mix of surprise and wary gratitude, before vanishing into the labyrinthine alleys. Shouyo, meanwhile, simply adjusted the tarp, feigning innocence, his face a picture of childlike confusion as the mercenary stomped past, cursing. It was a small act, almost accidental, but it was his first tangible step, a quick, almost unconscious application of his old life's problem-solving skills to this new, dangerous world.
Later that day, as Shouyo walked towards the outskirts of the village, a familiar voice called out, "Shouyo! You nearly got flattened back there, you know?"
It was Miles, Shouyo's best friend since they were toddlers. Miles was the son of his father's most trusted retainer, a handsome boy with a mischievous grin and eyes that sparkled with a blend of loyalty and recklessness. He stood tall for his age, already showing the broad shoulders of a future warrior, but his heart was pure and devoted to Shouyo.
"Just observing the wildlife, Miles," Shouyo replied, a rare, faint smirk touching his lips. He and Miles had spent countless hours together, dreaming of ways to help their families. Miles, ever the practical one, often focused on gathering more food or finding safer patrol routes, while Shouyo, after his awakening, would quietly analyze the political dynamics of their oppressors.
"Wildlife almost bit your head off," Miles chuckled, nudging him playfully. "Seriously though, that mercenary was furious. You didn't happen to see where that little shadow-stealer went, did you?"
Shouyo simply shrugged, a carefully practiced gesture of ignorance. "Too fast for me, Miles. Just a flash." He knew Miles would accept his word without question. Their bond was ironclad, built on shared hardships and unspoken promises. Miles, Shouyo knew, would follow him to the ends of this ravaged world.
As dusk began to paint the sky in hues of orange and purple, casting long, hungry shadows across the village, Shouyo continued his observations. He wasn't just watching bandits anymore; he was looking for something else, a feeling, a resonance. He felt drawn to the village's forgotten corners, the places where even the shadows seemed to weep. Near the crumbling remnants of an old well, he saw him.
A young man, perhaps a year or two older than Shouyo, was hunched over, his thin frame shaking as he scraped desperately at a moldy piece of bread found on the ground. His clothes were ragged, his face gaunt, and his eyes held the haunted, distant look of someone who had seen too much horror. This was Asuna, a survivor of a distant village wiped out by bandits, who had stumbled into Kutsilyo only to find a different kind of hell.
As Shouyo's gaze settled on Asuna, something within him stirred. It wasn't the usual empathy he felt for his suffering villagers. This was different, a sudden, blinding flash behind his eyes, like a system booting up. Lines of foreign text, geometric patterns, and vivid images flooded his vision, overlaid onto Asuna's form. It was overwhelming, a torrent of information: Name: Asuna. Age: 16. Current Status: Starving, Displaced, Emotionally Traumatized. Latent Abilities: Exceptional Mana Affinity (Unawakened), Innate Sword Aptitude (Untrained), Unyielding Will (High). The raw data flowed, detailing his entire background, his lost family, his escape, and then, most shockingly, a series of glowing bars indicating immense, untapped potential in magic and combat.
Shouyo staggered back, a gasp escaping his lips. His unique ability, the one he had asked the God of Earth for, had finally activated. This was it: Appraisal. And it was terrifyingly, wonderfully powerful. The implications for Kutsilyo were immense. He had found not just a survivor, but a hidden gem, a foundation upon which a new future could be built.
He knelt beside Asuna, who flinched, expecting a kick or a harsh word. Instead, Shouyo reached into his pouch, pulling out a piece of dried fish he had been saving. "Here," he said, his voice soft but firm. "Eat."
Asuna looked up, disbelief warring with desperate hunger in his eyes. He snatched the fish, tearing into it with a primal ferocity. Shouyo watched him, the appraisal data still swirling in his mind. The thought formed quickly, decisively. This wasn't just about charity; it was about strategy, about building his forces.
"Asuna," Shouyo said, waiting for the young man to finish. "My name is Shouyo. What happened to you, and what are your plans now?"
Asuna, still chewing, looked at him with wary confusion, not understanding why this boy, only slightly younger than himself, was speaking with such quiet authority. He looked around, seeing no one else, no trap. He had nothing left to lose. He told his story, a heartbreaking tale of loss and desperate flight.
When he finished, Shouyo met his gaze, his own eyes holding a depth that belied his years. "Asuna, you have great potential. Much more than you realize. This village is dangerous, but it can be changed. I need people. Loyal, capable people. I can offer you food, shelter, and a chance to truly belong, a chance to rebuild. But in return, I need your loyalty. I need you to become my vassal, my right-hand in this endeavor."
Asuna stared at him, the remnants of fish on his lips. A vassal? This boy? He barely knew him. But the look in Shouyo's eyes was unwavering, filled with a conviction that ignited a flicker of hope Asuna hadn't felt in years. He was at rock bottom. What did he have to lose?
"What do you want to do?" Asuna finally asked, his voice hoarse, but with a new curiosity.
Shouyo looked out at the darkening village, the distant shouts of bandits echoing in the twilight. "I want to take back Kutsilyo. And then, I want to build a nation."
Asuna's eyes widened. This boy was either mad, or he was the answer to a desperate prayer. He had nothing left to lose, and everything to gain. His gaze hardened with a newfound resolve. "Show me how."