146 The Darkness in the Alleyway

Foster looked at the backs of the group of three as they left, glaring at him as they did. At the very least they gave up pretty quickly, otherwise this might have become pretty ugly. Once he was sure that they wouldn't be coming back, Foster properly helped up the elderly man and brought him over to a place where the two of them could take a seat.

"Thank you, young man. I'm glad to see that there are still helpful people like you around these days." The man said with a broad smile, but Foster didn't really pay attention to what he was saying. Rather, he noticed that the man was slightly limping. That guy tripped over the man's leg earlier, so that was probably when this happened. The moment that the man took a seat, Foster kneeled down and took a closer look. His ankle was slightly red and a bit swollen. Clearly, this man was particularly frail.

"Ah, don't worry about that, I have something that can..." he said, trying to stop Foster from worrying. But before he could even finish his sentence, Foster used 'Siphoning Touch' to transfer some of his own health over into the man's ankle. He probably shouldn't do this sort of thing too often, but he felt bad, since he was the one that caused this injury by punching that guy earlier, "There, it should feel a bit better already."

Surprised, the old man looked at Foster, who soon took a seat right next to him, "You don't look like a healer to me," the man pointed out. With a scoff, he replied, "Yeah, you can say that one again. I'm not, really, I just happen to be able to use a spell like that."

Curiously, the old man reached down, grabbing at his ankle. It was like he wasn't able to believe that it had been healed so easily, "Is there anything I can do for you in return, young man?"

"Not really, no. At least, I didn't help you to get anything in return."

"Heh? Are you sure about that? Most people in this city came here for quite greedy reasons," the old man pointed out, "If you didn't help me to get anything in return, why'd you help me?"

Foster looked straight ahead, able to see the unique architecture of this city spread out over the rooftops, "I... grew up on the streets," he admitted, "For the first few years, I lived with my mom, although I only have like a single memory of her, and it's not a particularly good one. And after that, with my... erm... with the man that ended up raising me, I traveled around different cities. He'd always have a big mouth, so he got into a lot of fights." Foster explained, not sure why he was rambling like this to a complete stranger, even though this might as well have been one of the only times in his life that he said this sort of thing out loud. But then, he realized another issue. With an awkward expression, he turned toward the old man next to him, "Ah, I'm not saying you have a big mouth or anything, that was clearly those kids' fault. It's just..."

"No, no, don't worry," the old man said, with a gentle and comforting smile, "I understand you. Revisiting those sorts of memories is rather painful, after all."

"...right." Foster replied, before letting out a loud sigh, "You got a place to stay tonight?"

With a slight chuckle, the old man nodded, "I have a rough idea, yes. But don't concern yourself with that, you have helped me out more than enough already." 

"If you say so, I guess." Foster said, clearly worried about this old man, who seemed to notice. After a few moments of thought, the man placed his hands together, "How about this? I... am a collector, of sorts, and to get by, I try to sell some of the pieces I have collected for a fair price."

Foster looked at the old man, smirking slightly. Well, this man himself mentioned that most people that come here are the greedy kind, so maybe that fit him as well, "Sure, what do you got?" 

The old man shook his head quite immediately, "No, no, that is not the way I do trade. You tell me something that troubles you, and in return, I give you something that's going to help with it. All for just two bronze pieces."

"...Just two bronze pieces?" 

"Just two bronze pieces."

Foster looked at the old man, and let out a deep sigh, "Fine, here you go," he said, pushing his hand into his bag, grabbing two bronze pieces before placing them into the old man's hand, "So now you're going to hear my troubles?"

"Of course, of course. Go ahead, please." The old man replied, and Foster inwardly scoffed. It was fine, he could rant a bit, and then the old man would give him some snake-oil product. He'd throw it out on the way back to the inn, and everyone would be happy.

After a bit of thought, Foster's mind settled on something that he was troubled with. Even though it seemed like he was going to get some help with it soon, he still didn't feel great about it, so letting loose like this wasn't the worst idea, "So, the only thing I'm good at is using my body, mostly for fighting. I know my own body better than most people know their bodies, but when it comes to most other topics, I'm clueless. That's fine, and I don't really care, but I've been getting interested in casting spells lately. The ones that work similar to martial skills, where I just... use my body directly, I guess, they're fine, I'm good at using those. But all that other casting? Creating a magic circle? That shit I just don't get at all. Apparently, even if I know how to draw a magic circle, I can't just immediately use the spell? I need to understand the concept behind the magic first, but it just... where I grew up, I never encountered magic before, so I don't have the common sense that most people have in regard to magic. I just feel kinda... lost, whenever I think about it. As if I'm not supposed to be here in the first place."

The old man listened to Foster's explanation, and seemed to think about what to say for a while, "Magic is a hard concept to grasp for many people, so there is no need for you to worry about a lacking education. Rather, the fact that you ended up able to use magic, not having ever seen magic in your life before then, is impressive enough already."

"...I sort of just got lucky, I guess."

"Even if that were true, there is nothing wrong with relying on one's own luck. Plenty of people blame bad luck when their life goes to ruin, so why not allow yourself to believe in your good luck when something nice happens?" The old man asked, and Foster slightly smiled in response, "I guess so. Although, that whole situation was far too coincidental to be even called luck. From one moment to the other, I was dragged off to a new place, where I happened to meet the right person to bring me to the point I'm at now. I can't go into too much detail, but overall... it's too ridiculous a coincidence to call it luck in any way."

The old man looked into Foster's eyes, and lightly smiled, "But it wasn't a coincidence at all that you ended up there. You were guided by a greater force than any of us can comprehend." He explained, the old man's smile giving off a different feeling compared to before. And that to the point that Foster could feel goosebumps all over his body, but he couldn't pinpoint what exactly it was that caused it. While Foster was nearly getting lost in thought, the old man placed his large bag on the ground in front of him, and pushed his hand inside, through the dirty clothes and blankets, until he seemed to find what he was looking for in there.

Quickly, he pulled it out, and instead of being some sort of weird-looking trinket, what the man was holding was a book. A pretty thick, leatherbound book. The state it was in was much too good for it to have come out of such a dirty bag. Also, it was clearly worth much more than two bronze pieces, "Here. Open it only when you truly intend to read it, and make sure that there is nobody around to distract or interrupt you. It is of utmost importance that you take the action of reading this book seriously." The old man explained as he pushed the book into Foster's hand. Confused, he looked down at the thick book, while the old man started to stand up, "Now, if you will excuse me, it's going to take a while for me to get to where I will sleep tonight."

"Huh? Hold on, just wait a second, I think you made a mistake..." Foster pointed out, quickly getting up and trying to follow the old man. However, the moment he turned around the corner that the man disappeared into, he wasn't able to see that elder anywhere. As if he had simply teleported away or something.

'...What the hell am I supposed to do with this now..? I guess I'll take a look at it when I'm at the Inn...' Foster thought to himself, letting out an annoyed sigh as he pushed the book into his bag, starting to trott through the streets.

--- 

"There you are. That fucker left you alone too, huh?" A voice said, calling out to the old man down in one of the dark alleyways of the city's bottom layer. The man turned around, seeing the group of three from earlier, one of them with bruised eyes and nose. It was obvious that they weren't happy, but didn't feel like taking their anger out on Foster, who they knew they couldn't take on.

"Can I help you?" The old man asked, with an unamused expression, while the one with the broken nose stepped forward, "Yeah, you can try not to die too quickly, you old fuck."

"That's not really a kind thing to say to your elders." The man pointed out with a disappointed sigh, as the broken-nosed guy turned around toward his friends, "Do you two hear this guy? He's seriously-" his words were quickly interrupted, as he spasmed just once throughout his whole body, before his arms started hanging down the side of his slumped body, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. He was still trying to speak, but instead of sound, only blood gurgled out of his throat. The two others jumped back in shock, soon seeing what was going on. That old man's hand had pierced through their friend's neck, and his spine had violently been shattered as the man's hand closed around the bones. Slowly, he let go, and the young man's body fell to the ground lifelessly.

Completely filled with fear, the other two turned around to run away, but the old man pushed his hands into the bricks of the building next to them as if it was wet clay, throwing a large hunk of rock at their backs. The girl's chest was pierced immediately, and the other guy's shoulder was blown off, his arm now laying on the ground. While the girl fell down immediately, the one of them that was left was trying to scream for help loudly, but not a single tone came out of his mouth.

Slowly, the man took off the thin glove that he was wearing, pushing his blood-free hand into his bag. Out of it, he pulled a small glass orb that radiated with energy, "Having this one around is always useful. Hm... how about... we let it break in about an hour? I should be gone far enough by then." He suggested, placing the orb down onto the ground, before walking down the alleyway toward where the last remaining one of the group of three was still struggling to get away. But without further ado, the man stomped his foot down onto the young man's head, causing it to shatter into small bits immediately, as if he stepped on a rotten fruit. After taking off the heavy boots on his feet, the man placed them into his bag together with the gloves from earlier with a gentle smile on his face, satisfied with his deed, "I wasn't sure why you told me to spare them earlier, my King, but now I understand. Through these ones, I was able to meet someone interesting," he said, as if speaking to the darkness hidden in the alleway itself.