Strange Uncle

The only sound in the sewers was that of a blade slicing through the air. Heka gripped his dagger and swung it again and again, tirelessly slashing.

Today marked the eighth day since they had come down here. Their food had yet to run out, but the two buckets of drinking water they had left outside had been exhausted first.

Yesterday, Tuft of Hair had volunteered to go up and fetch some water.

Even as slow as he was, the boy had already realized that they had probably gotten themselves into trouble. That was why they had come here to lie low.

Heka had refused his proposal. He then left the shelter alone and practiced Slashing at a corner for roughly two hours.

After seeing the forty proficiency points he had gained, he made his way beneath the shelter in satisfaction. He brought out two buckets of foul-smelling well water, then used a pulley system with Tuft of Hair to hoist the things up above.

Heka still maintained high-intensity training every day. He had considered whether he ought to conserve his strength under these circumstances, like Tuft of Hair did now—spending most of his time dazing about and only a small portion moving around.

But after thinking it over, Heka abandoned that plan. Even if he made it through the worst of this, the sum of money in his hands was too large. For the next three or four years, he would remain a target for the gang.

Waiting alone would not bring results. He needed to find a way to break the deadlock, and the Slashing skill that was nearly capped on his panel might be his only chance.

He could now gain roughly two hundred proficiency points a day while still keeping up his regular training for the next day and retaining some energy in reserve.

He did not know what he would receive once the proficiency reached its cap, but this was the only thing he could do at present. If he did nothing and simply waited for the food in his hands to run out before returning to the surface to take a desperate gamble, that would be true despair.

Rubbing his aching forearm, Heka stopped swinging.

The boy focused his attention and brought up the panel.

To be honest, watching that progress bar steadily rise brought a peculiar sense of satisfaction, even without the pressure of a life-or-death crisis.

Once he had more time later on, Heka would also try to push this progress bar higher, though he probably would not be this crazed about it.

Slashing (1996/10000)

Four more points. Let's round it off.

Heka summoned the panel once more. Seeing that the progress bar had finally reached a round number, he let out a satisfied breath.

After the two buckets of water had run out, Heka could tell that Tuft of Hair had begun reducing his intake of bread and water. He had previously eaten about half a loaf a day, but now he was down to a quarter.

Heka cut the bread with his dagger, then handed it to Tuft of Hair, who sat quietly in the darkness, looking at the distant opening where the rain had formed a curtain of water.

The shelter's only source of light was now nearly blocked out by that watery curtain. Fortunately, they had lived here for eight days already. They could manage basic tasks by feel in the dark and would not bump into anything.

Heka sat opposite Tuft of Hair, scooped up a ladle of water from the bucket, and swallowed it down with alternating bites of cold water and bread.

The stuff did not taste like much, but after all that exercise, his stomach rumbled fiercely. When he was hungry, he could eat anything.

He consumed around two pounds a day—roughly one loaf of bread—or a pound of dried fish and two small pieces of cheese.

Tuft of Hair had now reduced his consumption to half a pound of bread. He barely ate any dried fish or cheese now.

Their remaining supplies consisted of seven and a half buckets of fresh water and fifty-three pounds of dark bread. They had already consumed a full seventeen pounds of that dark bread.

Fortunately, Heka had packed forty pounds of dark bread in his backpack beforehand, along with slightly more dried fish—sixteen pounds. They had barely touched the cheese, and including the stock he had stored in the food-filled box, they still had over eight pounds.

At their current rate of consumption, the food reserves should last around forty more days. At this pace, forty days ought to be enough to fill the Slashing progress bar. When that time came, they would have to take a gamble.

"Eat without worry. I brought you down here because I had prepared sufficient supplies. If there wasn't enough to eat, I wouldn't have brought you down."

Heka split the piece of cheese in his hand in two and passed one half to Tuft of Hair across from him.

It was nearly winter in Seapeak Port. Though Seapeak Port's winters were not particularly cold, the sewers were another matter. Without sufficient fuel, the cold was a major problem they would have to face.

Heka had not anticipated this situation.

After the incident, Heka had not known when things would come to light. Returning to the gang's base was unrealistic, so naturally he could not retrieve the bedding there.

With only the clothes on their backs, the key to surviving the harsh winter was maintaining sufficient fat intake.

Dark bread could not provide enough fat. Only cheese and fish could.

"I won't eat it. Boss has to train, so Boss should eat."

Tuft of Hair shook his head. Sitting cross-legged on the stone platform opposite him, he tucked his slightly reddened toes beneath his tattered clothes.

"There isn't much fat in bread. When the time comes, your fingers and toes will freeze off."

"Boss, our food probably isn't enough. I checked. We only have enough for about ten days."

Tuft of Hair shook his head, then cautiously looked at the boss before him. The food box was right there, and his boss sometimes sent him to retrieve food from it.

But in the eyes of the young pickpockets in the gang, food was the most precious thing. A single bowl of rotten slop could turn two partners against each other.

Tuft of Hair feared that his words would make his boss think he had been snooping through the food supplies, but this was the only way he had to persuade him.

"You can do arithmetic?"

"A little. My father taught me some."

Heka raised an eyebrow. In truth, he had known Tuft of Hair for less than three months. After all, he had only been in this world for three months himself.

Tuft of Hair had already been there when he arrived, but at the time, he had been at the very bottom among the pickpockets and was constantly bullied.

"Then can you read?"

Heka asked with a trace of excitement. He had tested several gang members he was familiar with, but not a single one could read. Illiteracy would not do.

But reading and writing seemed to be rather luxurious skills for ordinary people in this world.

"A little, a few... No, I can't. Don't hit me."

Tuft of Hair shrank back at those words. The boy had originally wanted to tell the truth, but when he saw Heka stand up, he immediately recoiled, seemingly afraid that Heka would hit him.

"Teach me, and I'll make you toys. How about it?"

Heka carried his bread over to Tuft of Hair's side. After saying that, he paused. It somehow felt like a creepy uncle asking a little boy whether he wanted candy.