What kind of parents send their own child to hell? Selling her to bandits? Altair clenched his jaw, fists tightening as he stared at the sleeping girl curled beside him. Aren't they afraid of being struck by lightning?
The people in this town and the neighboring villages had to know what the bandits were doing. The government had sent soldiers, resources, and warnings to raise awareness. And yet… nothing. No resistance. No outrage.
If it hadn't been for Alvis, who knows what would've happened to Verda?
Altair's heart ached—burned with quiet fury. He pitied them—both of them—for having such parents.
"I won't let those people near them again," he murmured. "I'll make sure they never lay a hand on these children."
The decision came easily, naturally.
He would take them in. They were his now.
They would never suffer like that again.
And now, with the system he'd been granted, he could actually protect them.
All that was left was to make sure they were willing to follow him.
He turned to the two slowly, his expression softening.
"I understand," he said with a sigh. "But what are you two planning to do now? You don't have a guardian. That's dangerous—especially in your situation. You're wandering around with your sister. It's a miracle you made it here safely."
Altair leaned forward, his tone firm, but not unkind.
"You have to understand—at your age, anyone could take advantage of you. So… what's your plan?"
Alvis hesitated. He bit his lip, eyes flicking downward.
"I… I don't know," he admitted quietly. "But… uhm… before I actually already had a plan, Emett offered to bring me and my sister to the capital with him. He was not from this town. He just went here to find a relative, but they have already left, so he was alone like us. But he knew someone in the capital who could help us,"
He fidgeted, hesitant.
"I believed him back then. He noticed that I didn't have any relatives besides my sister. I thought maybe he felt sorry for us—that he genuinely wanted to help. He was especially kind to me. He even said that the people in the capital would definitely welcome me. When I asked how he knew that, he told me he could tell I was 'special.' I didn't really understand what he meant… but he promised we'd have a place to live and work. The stolen goods, he said, would be our provisions for the journey."
Altair blinked. Huh? He said that?
That wasn't what he expected.
He'd assumed Emett was just another desperate street kid—reckless, ignorant, willing to risk everything for a bit of food.
But this?
This sounded… planned.
He remembered Emett's strange silence earlier. The hesitance. The guilt.
There was someone behind him. Someone connected to the capital?
The capital of Sierra County—the one that governed forty-six cities and hundreds of towns, composed of thousand villages. And Emett—just a boy from some backwater town—was claiming ties to a place like that? Promising jobs and shelter?
Was it real? Or just a lie to win the children over?
After all, who would hire a child? What kind of work could they even do?
Altair folded his arms, scrutinizing Alvis.
"Tell me," he said calmly. "When did you meet Emett? How did you two get acquainted? And where exactly is he from?"
Alvis blinked, startled by the sudden change in direction. He fidgeted nervously.
"Huh? Um… he approached me while I was looking for work at a clothing shop. The owner used to run a food stall—he was rich, and he owned that shop too. So I tried my luck there, since they sometimes paid with food."
He paused. "But they weren't hiring anymore. I was with two other kids trying to get the same job. Then… Emett showed up. He gave us food."
Altair frowned. "Just like that?"
"At first, yeah. He said he knew what it was like—being hungry, being alone. Said he was an orphan too. We didn't really believe him. We asked where he got the food, but he wouldn't say."
Alvis lowered his voice.
"But the next day, he came looking for us. Said he could get us more food… if we helped."
"That's when he showed us his ability. That's how we learned—he'd been stealing from the town."
Altair's expression darkened.
"He said he'd steal directly from the warehouse," Alvis continued. "Claimed there was a ton of food stockpiled. That the mayor was hoarding supplies that were sent by the capital for us. And since the town wasn't giving it out, we had to take it ourselves."
Altair's brow furrowed. He was actually brainwashing them?
It was true—the supplies were intended for the people. But there were a lot of mouths to feed. Not every village had been evacuated yet, and a large portion of the goods were meant for the soldiers. It wasn't as simple as Emett made it seem.
But the plan… was smart.
He made the kids believe they were doing something righteous.
And they believed him.
Altair turned to Alvis. "Weren't you afraid of getting caught?"
The boy looked embarrassed, realizing how naive he'd been.
"I… I agreed because the task sounded easy. We didn't even need to go into the warehouse. There were fifteen of us total. Half were told to create a distraction outside. The rest of us—me included—were supposed to transport the goods through a tunnel behind the building."
Altair narrowed his eyes. "A tunnel?"
"Yes," Alvis said quickly. "There was a hidden tunnel behind the warehouse. I don't know how he knew about it… but he did. He went inside alone, while we waited at the tunnel entrance to pass the food through. That way, we wouldn't be seen."
Altair's thoughts raced. A tunnel behind the warehouse?
That wasn't something a normal kid would know about.
Did Emett find it himself? Was it part of his ability?
Or… did someone tell him?
And that wasn't the only strange thing.
The warehouse had been guarded—by an awakened.
Why assign someone with power just to guard food?
His gaze darkened further.
This town was small. Barely a speck on the map. Having one awakened here was already rare. But lately, more of them have shown up. Soldiers were stationed here. An awakened man was guarding the warehouse. And the man beside the mayor… Altair was almost certain he was one too, judging by the pressure he gave off.
Why were so many awakened gathering here?
And more importantly…
The trial of children earlier was strange. Why was the mayor handling this situation so lightly?
The children weren't interrogated strictly. No harsh punishments. Just gentle warnings and leniency that felt… unnatural.
Rules were bent. Exceptions made. The matter swept aside like nothing.
Was it empathy? A show of kindness?
Or was there something they were trying to hide?