Rin's life had never been ordinary. But then again, it's not like he'd asked for extraordinary problems either. Born with the power to bend reality, he'd spent most of his life trying to understand how to control it. And failing. A lot.
His power was dangerous, unpredictable, and the subject of many angry, concerned conversations—none of which were helpful.
"I mean, who looks at a crying baby and says, 'Yup, that one's going to be a walking nightmare for the gods'?" Rin muttered to himself, as if the wind would answer.
At the tender age of nineteen, he had more enemies than friends, and every single one of them seemed to want him dead. Or worse. Cultists from every corner of the world had tried to kidnap him, drag him into their dark rituals, and use him as a pawn in their schemes. They were all after one thing: the power that lay dormant within him, waiting for the right moment to awaken.
Unfortunately for them, the right moment had already come—and gone.
Despite all the chaos, Rin had learned to navigate the streets of this ruined city with the grace of someone who had been doing it for far too long. The city, once a thriving hub of civilization, was now a shadow of its former self. The last major war had taken its toll on every corner of the world, and cities like this one were becoming less and less populated as the gods' wrath continued to rage. For some, it was a place of despair. For Rin, it was just another stop in his endless journey to figure out what the hell was going on.
As he passed a small, rundown vendor stall, his stomach growled loudly, betraying his otherwise stoic demeanor. Rin glanced at the roasted chicken hanging from the vendor's booth. He hadn't eaten in hours, and the scent of the freshly cooked meat was too much to ignore.
He approached the stall, his hand already reaching for his coin pouch.
"One roasted chicken, please," Rin said, pulling a coin from his pouch.
The vendor, an older man with a grizzled face and tired eyes, eyed him up and down before speaking in a thick accent. "You look like someone who could eat more than that. You sure that's all you want?"
Rin, feeling the sudden urge to bite back, responded dryly, "Just the chicken, old man. I'm not here to eat a banquet."
The vendor raised an eyebrow but shrugged. "Suit yourself."
Rin took the chicken, but before he could even take a bite, a small figure dropped from a nearby rooftop, landing in front of him with the precision of someone who'd done this a thousand times.
"Hey!" Rin yelled, startled. "What the—?!"
Before he could even finish the sentence, the thief—no, the child—snatched the chicken from his hands and grinned like he'd just won a prize.
"Thanks for the meal, big guy!" the scruffy boy, no older than fifteen, said, chowing down on the stolen food with an enthusiasm that made Rin's jaw twitch. "This is way better than the stuff I've been eating!"
Rin stared at the kid, blinking a few times in disbelief. "Did you really just... steal my food? And then thank me for it?"
The boy looked up between bites, his mouth full, and gave a grin that could only be described as too smug for someone committing a crime. "Well, it was your food, so technically, I'm just taking what's rightfully mine, right?"
Rin stood there for a moment, feeling the frustration build. It was one thing to have cultists hunting him down for his power, but it was another to be outwitted by a kid who looked like he'd never had a real meal in his life.
"You're not even going to apologize?" Rin asked flatly, arms crossed.
The boy shrugged, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Apologize? Nah, it's not like I'm taking your soul. Just your chicken, big guy. You're not gonna miss it."
Rin didn't know whether to laugh or throw the boy into the next century with a single punch. Instead, he settled for a groan.
"You've got some serious nerve, kid. But fine," Rin said, "Just don't make me regret this."
The boy paused, chicken halfway to his mouth, and squinted at him with newfound interest. "Wait, you're not one of those cultist guys, are you?"
Rin blinked. "What, because I look like I've been to one too many shadowy temples?"
"Well, yeah!" The boy pointed at Rin's cloak. "That whole mysterious, brooding hero vibe you've got going on... I thought you were one of those 'mysterious villain' types. You know, the kind who does dramatic monologues and tries to summon eldritch horrors."
Rin rubbed his temple. "I think I'm just going to ignore that. I've got enough cosmic horrors in my life as it is."
The boy raised an eyebrow. "So you're not a cultist? Then what are you?"
"Someone who's had enough of the gods and their nonsense," Rin muttered, before snatching the remaining chicken from the boy's hands. "Now, I'm going to eat this, and if you try anything funny, I will make you regret it."
The boy stared at Rin for a second before laughing. "You're alright, big guy. You're not like the others."
Rin rolled his eyes but allowed himself a small, reluctant smile. "Don't get too attached, kid. I'm not your friend. I'm just a guy trying to get by."
With that, Rin took a bite of the chicken, his mind drifting back to the real reason he was here—he wasn't just some wandering drifter. He was a Walker of Chaos, and no matter how ridiculous or absurd his life felt at times, the gods weren't done with him yet.