Igniting Greed

Heka wiped the blood from his hands onto someone else's clothes and slowly walked toward a nearby stall.

The bloodstained gold coins in his backpack had already been put back into the money pouch, which he then tossed entirely into his backpack.

The sum was too large.

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If he handed it over, that bastard the children secretly called Fat Pig would never let him live.

Fat Pig would most likely silence him first and try to pocket the money for himself.

If the owner of the money found it quickly enough and had a powerful enough background, Fat Pig would hand him over. At that point, whether he lived or died would depend entirely on that noble's mood.

After all, he was just a petty thief. If he died, he died—no different from a street rat dropping dead.

So he could not go back. He could only run.

There were many gang checkpoints on the streets of Seapeak Port. Heka had seen children who tried to escape; most had their arms and legs broken before being thrown onto the streets.

Though most people on the streets knew all the twists and turns behind it and would not spare them even a single coin.

But those miserable examples were themselves a warning to pickpockets and streetwalkers alike.

How much food the gangs gave those children with broken limbs depended entirely on how much money they brought in. Either way, the gangs never lost out.

Those people were starving and terrified. They were the gangs' natural eyes and ears on the streets—cheap and efficient.

Heka knew he would not be able to escape.

He could not outrun carriages on foot, and the places that rented out carriages had mostly already been warned by the gangs.

The moment he showed any such intent, those owners would personally tie him up and deliver him before Fat Pig.

So he could only hide in the sewers for now. But that place was his secret base—should he bring Tuft of Hair along?

Heka looked toward Tuft of Hair, who had already vanished into the crowd in the distance. Only then did he withdraw his gaze and buy two greasy chicken legs from a nearby stall.

The gang enforcer watching him from afar had now focused his gaze on him.

Clearly, little pickpockets did not deserve meat. In the eyes of the gang's upper ranks, letting them stay alive was already an act of kindness.

Two greasy chicken legs cost a full two copper coins.

It was a lavish meal even gang enforcers had to grit their teeth to buy when they wanted to satisfy a craving.

Heka could see the greed in the eyes of that slightly limping gang enforcer. Perfect. Greed like that was exactly what he needed.

Heka fished a pouch out from inside his clothes. It was one of yesterday's spoils.

Fat Pig might have been harsh and greedy, but he was quite accomplished when it came to squeezing people dry.

Besides encouraging the children to inform on one another, he had devised a system: every week, the child who stole the most would get a good meal, along with an extra day off.

Fat Pig might have had some good ideas, but the people under him had no ability to carry out such a slightly complicated system.

Nor did he have the leisure to tally up the brats' earnings himself. In the end, the system was carried out by checking the number of money pouches every Sunday.

Unfortunate yet fortunate, Heka, as a top-tier grind king, had already held this less-than-glorious title for over eight straight weeks.

His Theft proficiency had thus reached 6790. He worked six days and rested one, twelve hours a day, from when the streets began to fill with people until the night grew black and the wind howled.

It had been less than three months since he had been forced into employment at this property-transfer company, meaning he averaged nearly ninety thefts a day.

Of course, the actual number of thefts was not quite so exaggerated.

Most of that proficiency came from his diligent practice during breaks.

Even so, he could steadily bring in five or six wallets every day.

Concealed by the crowd, Heka stuffed one hundred copper coins into a new money pouch. After hesitating for a moment, he added another hundred.

Nearly a third of his little treasury vanished in an instant.

But if he wanted the other man to buy him as much time as possible, he had no choice but to spend lavishly.

Having finished that, Heka casually lifted another money pouch from a merchant-looking man nearby.

There were around twenty copper coins inside. That was the normal situation.

After all, with a grind king like him in Seapeak Port, the theft rate had shot straight up over the past few months. Long ago, no one had dared carry large sums of money on the streets anymore.

For ordinary daily use, a dozen or so copper coins were enough.

With two money pouches in one hand and two chicken legs in the other, Heka walked up to the gang enforcer wearing a half-smile.

Only when he got close did Heka realize the man's lame leg had been broken recently.

There were still bloodstains of unknown age seeping through the gauze around the wound. It was probably due to the increasingly fierce gang conflict lately.

With one leg crippled, the man would most likely only be able to do odd jobs from now on.

And this enforcer still looked young. Heka could practically smell the ambition on him, though it had begun to gradually fade along with his broken leg.

"You little brats aren't supposed to eat something like this. You stole the boss's money. You're finished."

Heka looked at the flames in the man's eyes. The man had probably taken him for a stepping stone, one he could use to earn credit with the boss.

Heka did not respond. Instead, he tossed the money pouch in his hand directly before the man. The copper coins clinked against one another, making a wonderful jingling sound.

"Business is open. Big business."

Heka handed one chicken leg to him, then savagely bit into the other himself.

"All your money, even if you hide it in your bellies, belongs to the boss."

The enforcer across from him seemed to understand Heka's hint, but perhaps it was his first time doing something like this, so he still answered cautiously.

"Two hundred copper coins. You take a hundred, I take sixty, and forty goes up. There's another money pouch here too. Today counts as finished. Same arrangement from now on."

Heka raised his head and stared into the man's eyes. The hesitation there was gradually being swallowed by greed.

"Your leg is only broken. You don't need limb regeneration; you only need the injury healed."

"The church can heal it once for three silver coins."

"I saw a carriage driver who broke his leg. His condition was worse than yours."

The enforcer's ambition and greed were completely ignited, nearly burning straight through Heka.

"Healed?"

Suppressing his excitement and a thread of fear, the enforcer pressed both hands onto Heka's shoulders.

Heka nodded. He could feel the fingers pressing against him slowly beginning to tighten.

"You got that injury fighting those Black Mountainers?"

"Obviously. Those bastards wanted to seize the gang's smuggling routes, so we held those places. Whenever we saw one, we killed one. We've fought several times already, and plenty of people have died."

"And then they put you here to watch us pickpockets work?"

After saying that, Heka pushed the money pouch before him toward the man again.

"Three silver coins is three thousand copper coins. A hundred a day, and you'll have enough in a month."

"The guy before me did the same?"

Hearing that, the stone in Heka's heart fell halfway to the ground.

Though everyone spoke of loyalty and brotherhood on the surface.

How could gangs that filled vacuums of power through violence and used them to obtain money possibly possess any true loyalty?

"No, he skimmed it off in the middle himself. But you should thank him."

"Because of him, I only need to hand over forty copper coins a day now, instead of one hundred and twenty."

The enforcer took a deep breath. This was truly a staggering profit. Then his eyes rolled, and he pressed his hand down over the entire money pouch before him.

"What if I do the same as him?"

The flames of greed burst forth completely. Heka frowned and reached for the money pouch.

But he was still only a child. His reach was nowhere near as long as an adult's.

The enforcer merely took half a step back, making Heka stumble.

Finally feeling that he had seized control of the rhythm, the enforcer revealed a satisfied smile, as though the situation were firmly in his grasp.