Dancing at the fingertips of death,

Writing the legend of a lone thief,

The path of a thief and his kitchen knife.

Ancient spells of necromancers from primordial tombs,

The chants of demons from the distant, shadowy depths of hell,

The ancient war songs of the old minotaur priests from the orc tribes,

The lost technological civilization of the goblin kingdom,

The ancient ruins of the Tularion Forest,

The mysterious treasures of Emerald Isle,

The strange races of the Endless Sea,

The same N'Zoth,

But a different legend.

Chapter One William Carter

This was a low wooden shack, dilapidated and broken—there were no better words to describe it. It was like a short, weathered old man, barely clinging to life through the cold, lonely years. In front of the shack was a street paved with slabs of stone, filthy and murky water flowing freely across it, so much so that even stray dogs searching for food would steer clear.

The short wooden door of the shack creaked open and shut in the foul-smelling wind, making squeaky noises. Half a red brick wall leaned precariously, on the verge of collapse, but somehow still standing.

A place even dogs avoided, yet it was not necessarily uninhabited.

With a creak, the door opened, and out walked a girl in a white silk dress, about seventeen or eighteen years old. Her black hair fell smoothly, shining with a luster like black pearls. Perhaps her hair blocked her view, so she used her fingers to brush it back, then lifted the hem of her slightly faded white silk dress, leaped forward, and stood on a relatively clean stone slab. She then called anxiously into the shack, "Brother, hurry up, you're going to be late!"

The girl's voice was clear and crisp, like an oriole singing in a valley—very pleasant to hear.

A tall boy walked out from the low door, looking about twenty-one or twenty-two. Because the door was so low, he had to duck his head as he passed through.

Seeing the boy come out, the girl lifted her skirt and hopped onto another stone slab, giving up the one she had been standing on.

The boy wore a wrinkled old suit. Judging by his back, he was about 1.8 meters tall, a bit thin, but stood very straight, looking quite handsome.

"Remember to work hard, and no more fighting. Otherwise, hmph... no dinner for you tonight." The girl waved her little fist, wrinkled her nose playfully, then smiled sweetly, revealing a pair of shallow dimples—very sweet and cute. If anyone saw her, they would surely be surprised that such a beautiful and outstanding girl could exist in this dirty, chaotic slum.

Work? A trace of guilt flashed in the boy's eyes. This was just an excuse to fool his sister. How could someone like him find a job?

"Mm." The boy replied, unconsciously touching his nose with his right hand. The black, slightly faded suit cuff made his hand stand out. It was an exceptionally fair hand, with long fingers, no scars, as white as mutton-fat jade—no less delicate than the hands of pampered girls. Such hands really shouldn't belong to a boy.

"Brother, your hands are so pretty." The girl smiled with pursed lips, bent down to take a closer look, and wondered why her brother had such beautiful hands. She glanced at her own hands, feeling a bit inferior, and quickly hid them behind her back. Her hands bore a few scars and were a bit rough.

Seeing her action, the boy felt a twinge in his nose. All the clothes at home were washed by the girl, no matter how cold or hot it was. In winter, when it was freezing, even iron would crack, and even the most beautiful hands would become rough. The boy wanted to help her wash clothes, but she would never allow it.

"Mm." The boy didn't argue, replying softly, but was deeply moved inside. Your hands are the most beautiful in the world. He affectionately tapped the girl's little nose and said, "I'm off to work. You study hard too."

"Got it." The girl sniffed, pouting in protest at his gesture.

"Remember to eat lunch, okay? And come home early tonight." The boy reminded her, still worried.

"Alright, alright, I know. If you keep nagging, you'll turn into Aunt Wu from the Red Cross Hospital." The girl pushed the boy's back, making him walk a few steps forward.

The boy shook his head with a wry smile and walked toward the end of the street, stepping on the raised stone slabs.

"Brother, wait a second!" the girl called out anxiously.

"What is it?" the boy turned back and asked.

The girl hurried over to him, pouted, and said in a slightly complaining tone, "Look at you, going to work without even fixing your collar." She reached up to straighten his collar, looked him over carefully, then smiled with satisfaction and said happily, "Alright, you'll always be the most handsome, go for it!"

The boy patted the girl's little head and smiled faintly. Her smile always made him forget all his worries.