The wooden door creaked open.

  Wretch straightened and gave a wide smile.

  “Hello! Good day sir,” he said with an overly cheerful tone.

  A slender man in a suit glanced down at him. The man’s attire stood in stark contrast to Wretch’s rags, polished shoes and a clean shirt on one side of the door, ragged cloth and busted boots on the other.

  “I’m not buying anything, and I don’t have coin to spare.” The man responded coldly.

  “Oh no, no!" Wretch raised two fully formed hands defensively. "I am not selling anything, I just heard that a crew of hunters worked in this fine establishment. Is that true?”

  The man's eyes narrowed, a saber dangling by his hip as he crossed his arms.

  “And if it is?”

  “Well, I recently became a Blessed myself and was wondering if you were hiring.” Wretch puffed out his chest. “I have some great blessings.”

  The man looked down at him with skepticism.

  “You don’t look like much of a hunter,” he said.

  Wretch pulled the hair away from his eyes to see clearly.

  “Ah, but looks can be deceiving.”

  The man paused, looking him over. Malnourished frame, torn clothes, a face hidden behind wild bangs and a wide smile.

  “What’s your name then?”

  “Wretchy, I’m fast, a great climber, and I can heal even some wicked wounds. Also, I can, uh… Shapeshift a bit.”

  “No kid,” the man tilted his head. ”Your Blessed name. You can tell all you need from someone’s true name.“

  Wretch scratched the back of his head.

  “Oh, that name. It's kind of bad. Not funny-bad. Just bad-bad.”

  “Quit the mumbling, just show me.” The man said with a crude smile and pointed a thumb towards himself.

  Wretch sighed and imagined lunging against the man, grasping his throat and crushing the windpipe.

  The man’s expression changed. He burst into a giggle, slapped a hand over his mouth, and slammed the door shut. Wild laughter echoed through the wood.

  Wretch’s cheeks burned as he stood still on the porch, staring at the door.

  “A hunter with a wide hat and sharp teeth! Have you seen him?” He shouted through the wood.

  It didn’t open again, only the noise of a fading laugh.

  “Damn! That’s the third one to say no.” He rubbed his chin.

  Is my name really that bad? He thought. I got to have something more to show. Something that makes me look dangerous.

  He walked back and forth on the porch. He’d waited to try his second Blessing, to steal the form of creatures he’d killed and eaten. So far it was only one, a man sized rat with a tail and sharp claws.

  He smacked a fist into his open palm.

  “Let's do that.”

  With a whistle, he turned around, disappearing into the crowded street of the Spire. Getting back into the Spires had been easy. He’d shown his Blessed credentials, and they let him through after some questions. After a decade of fearing passing through the gate, he now could come and go as he wished. It felt… unearned.

  Wretch weaved through the pedestrians in his tattered clothes, to the side a well dressed gentleman in a coat and polished boots passed by. The outline of a fat wallet bulging in his pocket. Whispering to him as clearly as the flame did when low.

  “If only I had coin for a suit,” he whispered. “Or a pair of good boots.”

  His fingers twitched toward the pocket. He froze and the gentleman disappeared in the torrent of pedestrians.

  No, he thought. No more thieving, I got to change, become someone worthy to meet him.

  He shoved the hand back into his pocket. The flame had given him an opportunity, and he was going to take it.

  Saint’s Summit was the largest of the spires, perpetually piercing the clouds. On its second level, houses of the upper class fought for space in a tangled mess of walkways, pipes, machinery and elevators. High up, under a walkway, a pair of fiery eyes gleamed in the shade of the morning suns.

  For three days, he’d tracked his next target. Officers had stopped him twice already and it had taken restraint to not dart towards the nearest alley simply out of habit. However, his newly acquired paperwork had proven reliable.

  That left plenty of time to experiment with Flesh Stealer. Drawing flame from the ember in his mind and forcing it to twist into the shape of Krii’ttch, the rat-beast.

  It was painful, like rending the skin with a hot knife, but now, he was almost finished.

  Wretch grimaced as he watched his hand shift. The fingernails ripped free, pushed out by jet black claws. The skin squirmed and spasmed, as if a thousand worms crawled under the surface. The bones of his forearm cracked and clicked as his left arm became longer than its counterpart. His bloodied fingernails fell off one by one, chiming against the metal below.

  He exhaled, eyes dimming back to brown.

  “Flesh stealer bloody hurts,” he muttered, wiping sweat from his forehead. “It better be worth it.”

  He collected himself and peeled away the tight, dead skin like an old glove, revealing soot-colored flesh beneath. The palm had become wider, each finger marked by knotted joints and ending in a hooked claw.

  He bent down on top of the metal ledge and scratched the steel, smiling at the grooves it left behind.

  “Now we’re talking.”

  The depth of his flame felt slightly more shallow. As if he'd dropped a coin into a glass of water. Nor did he feel a way to turn it back.

  Guess Its stuck like this for the time being. Oh well.

  Below, a narrow road hugged the edge of the spire. A thin house was nestled between winding machinery and a squat building. Outside of the house, an old wooden sign dangled in the wind, depicting three swords impaling a beast’s head.

  The Richter Company.

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

  The house was two stories tall and strangely thin, as if the surrounding structures had squeezed it together.

  Vines blooming in red and pink crept up the walls, spilling onto a balcony crammed with vegetation. Above it, wisps of smoke rose out of a crooked chimney.

  “Someone’s up early,” Wretch whispered.

  He’d found the place late last night, and spent the evening reshaping his arm. He rubbed his coat against the newer of his two boots, a cracked brown one fished from a trash bin.

  “First impressions matter,” he said with a nod.

  With ease, he swung down the network of pipes and beams. He dropped lightly onto the cobblestone, stood up and patted his hair in an effort to smooth it. His clawed hand nearly sliced his scalp open.

  He looked down at his newly changed limb.

  “Right. Got to be careful with that.”

  Straightening what remained of his coat he walked awkwardly up to the door encased in the red flowers.

  They smelled sweet, and he drew in a long whiff.

  “Let’s do this!”

  He knocked on the door, rehearsing the monologue he’d practiced all night.

  No response.

  He reached out to knock a second time, but the door swung open.

  A tall and broad-shouldered woman stood in the doorframe. Wild, red hair fell past her shoulders, with thin braids scattered among wild locks. Scars crossed her nose and jaw and she gave a tired yawn.

  She wore a pair of black pants and a white shirt that strained against thick muscles beneath the fabric. One hand was on the handle, while the other held a steaming cup.

  “Hello, good morning,” Wretch said with a smile he imagined looked confident and approachable.

  Her head trailed down, a look of realization as her eyes found him.

  “Do you even know how early it is?” she said in a gruff voice.

  “No,” He replied truthfully.

  The woman became quiet, giving him a look that was both a question and a threat.

  “Umm, Is this the Richters Company?” He said, struggling to remember his pitch.

  She gave a judgmental frown. He was shorter than most and thin to the point of malnourishment. Face covered in scars and framed by long and unkempt black hair. She paused on the clawed arm.

  “You look like you just lost a fight against a dumpster. Are ya really Blessed?”

  “Yes, ma’am!” Wretch said quickly, lifting the clawed hand with pride. “I heard you were hiring. I am a newly Blessed and I can climb, heal wounds and shapeshift into things. Just look at this claw!”

  He flexed the jagged fingers.

  The woman didn’t move. She didn’t even blink.

  “You look like you’d snap in a strong breeze,” she said with a tilt of her head.

  Wretch tilted his head in a similar manner.

  “I assure you I will not. In fact, I am quite sturdy and… persistent.”

  “I’ll believe that when I see it.” She said, pausing to hold down another yawn. “As second in command, I politely ask you to fuck off.”

  Wretch blinked, shocked.

  She began to close the door.

  “Wait!” he cried, grabbing the knob and straining his legs to keep it open. “I have to become a hunter, let me join you, I’m searching for someone and have to get stronger.”

  “Get lost, you stubborn tick!” The woman said and without effort, slammed the door shut.

  “I am not afraid of a fight either!” He shouted, and banged his fist against the wood.

  No response.

  He gave a sigh, trailing his eyes up along the flowers growing towards the balcony. He stroked his chin and nodded to himself.

  “Maybe she is just testing me?” He thought. “She did say she'd believe it when she saw it.”

  He gave a shrug.

  With ease, he climbed the plants next to the door, vaulting up over the railing to the balcony filled with potted plants. A closed glass door let the morning light shine on a kitchen, a large dinner table, and a group of sofas around a small coffee-table. A tiny orange creature sat perched on the other side of the glass door, watching him closely. Wretch bent low and examined it through the glass.

  It was an orange cat, though parts of its fur were missing, replaced with patches of scarring from burns that had long healed. Its pupils were vertical and Wretch gave it a little wave.

  From the right, a figure walked into view. The tall girl looked at the cat with a smile and slowly followed its stare to Wretch, still crouched and waving at the cat.

  Her smile turned to a frown.

  The cat darted under the sofa as she stomped towards the balcony, gripping the handle with enough strength to make the metal groan.

  “I didn’t mention that I need little pay either, just some food. Oh, and maybe a corner to sleep would be nice. It gets kind of windy outside you…uahh!”

  A hand wrapped around his collar, lifting him off the ground with the same ease she’d held the coffee-cup. A smirk spread on the woman's lips as he struggled in her grip.

  “You really can climb, can’t you?”

  “Yes ma’am! I am quick and I can heal fractures and flesh-wounds,” he said with dangling feet.

  Her grin widened.

  “That’s great! You will both survive the fall and climb back up, right?”

  “What fall?” Wretch stammered.

  “The one where I toss you down to the Lows in three seconds.”

  “Oh… that fall. Did I mention I’m persistent?”

  “Yeah,” she said, turning towards the railing. “I believe you did!”

  Out from a door lining the kitchen, another woman entered the kitchen. She was shorter than even Wretch, with blond hair and striking green eyes framed by round glasses.

  The red-haired giant froze.

  “What’s all the commotion? “ The short girl asked, rubbing her eyes as she walked towards a kitchen counter

  “Hello! Nice to meet you. Pleasant morning, isn't it?” Wretch said dangling a meter off the ground. “I am Blessed and I’d like to formally apply to join your company. Are you the boss?”

  The short woman glanced over with a yawn, then fetched a cup from a cupboard and began pouring a black liquid from a pot.

  “Oh, that’s great.” She said, “We are short one or two people anyway! Actually, I am second in command, so you will…”

  She paused with the cup half-full and gave a thoughtful expression. Slowly, she turned back towards the balcony.

  “Elenya…”

  “What are you doing?”

  The giant was still staring at him clutched in her grip, but her cheeks grew red.

  “Nothing.”

  Wretch cleared his throat. “Respectfully, I believe she is about to throw me off the balcony.”

  The blonde’s eyes grew wide. “Elenya! Put the man down!”

  The tall girl released him to tumble to the ground with a thud, then turned around and retreated inside with a mumble.“I wasn’t actually going to do it, Astrid.”

  “Go wake up the twins and get some breakfast ready.” The short, sophisticated girl ordered with a harsh tone as Wretch stood up and dusted off his coat.

  Elenya, the giantess with the fiery hair, lumbered towards a door with a sullen look.

  “And get some spare clothes from the vacant room.” Astrid shouted behind as she disappeared.

  “Sorry!” Wretch said.

  “Oh, no. No,” Astrid said, rubbing a pair of fingers against her forehead. “I am sorry! Edmund, the team leader, will be back in about thirty-four minutes. You can join us for breakfast in the meantime.”

  She gave a small, formal bow. “I’m Astrid by the way. That was Elenya.” she said and gestured towards the closed door.

  “I am Wretch, but call me Wretchy. Nice to meet you.” He said, returning an awkward bow.

  This is Insane. It actually worked! Now I just have to play this smoothly.

  His smile faded as he felt the weight of the stolen coin purse in his pocket. He’d done so out of habit and panic while dangling from her grip.

  Elenya walked out of a door, her cheeks still as red as her hair. She shot him a look. The kind you gave your enemy after a generational feud.

  If she notices, I might die.

  “Wretch? Those parents of yours must be some unkind folk to name you that.” Elenya said, “are you even registered?”

  He snapped to attention.

  “You could say that. Oh, and I registered just the other day. I have the documents right here,” Wretch replied while whipping out a folder that was already stained.

  The orange cat slunk out of the balcony door, interrupting the interrogation. It twirled around Wretch’s legs with curiosity.

  “Come in, young man, and close the door behind you.” Astrid said.

  “And bring Whisky with you,” Elenya called behind her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t bring any,” Wretch called back from where he stood.

  “The cat you twig, the cat’s name is Whisky," the red-haired giant said. "But don't get comfortable, Captain Edmund will rip you apart as soon as he's back.”

  Captain Edmund? Wretch thought.