Super.Dawg
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Chapter 83
🕑 Added 2025-08-12 10:12:01 +0000 UTCKana wasn’t qualified to adopt. She knew that.
First: the guardian had to be an adult.
Second: they needed a stable source of income.
There were more requirements beyond that, but she didn’t have to see the rest to know she failed them all.
So, she’d work around it.
She slid the stack of parchment—each page bearing the name of a slum child to Leo. Their plan was simple: Duke Stark would take the formal role. He’d sign the papers, take the credit, put him in the spotlight. Kana didn’t care for the spotlight. Doing the right thing only mattered.
Outside, the wind scraped along the shutters, colder than the night before. She draped a blanket over Suri’s shoulders, the younger girl hunched over her desk, pen scratching across parchment. The candlelight painted her hair in flickers of gold and shadow.
The letter was to Saltrain Village. The words were couched in the language of employment—offering positions as caretakers for the orphanage Duke Stark was building. The caretakers would be paid, the village’s income would be shored up. And the best part: Kana and the others could visit once a week without anyone questioning why.
“Will this do?” Suri asked, sliding the sheet toward her. “Do you think they’ll agree?”
Kana scanned the lines, then nodded. “I don’t see why they wouldn’t. We’ll set up an exclusive contract with the village—it’ll increase their revenue.”
“They might question it,” Suri said, chewing her lip. “But… they know the Duke.”
“He’ll handle it,” Kana said.
Suri gave her a sly look. “You’re playing a merchant now?”
“You mean a merchant who loses money?”
They both laughed softly, the sound mingling with the faint hiss of wind outside.
Once, Kana had feared the shadow man might come for them or their family.
It was an easy fear to have—his name alone was enough to scare people. But after crossing blades with him, she’d learned something important. If he had wanted to kill them—or take the entire village hostage—he could have done it in a single night. Easily.
That wasn’t his way.
The shadow man carried pride in his work. In the craft of killing. There was something in his strike, either a very important purpose or just pure madness.
Still, trust wasn’t the same as complacency. The orphanage would have its own protections once it was built—a layer of security strong enough to give even the most determined assassin pause—that should be enough to buy time.. just in case. It would be costly, but Kana had already run the numbers.
Even with the expense, the orphanage could keep its doors open for more than a decade without worry. And in the meantime, no coin was worth more than the safety it bought. Of course, Kana was aware that there would be inflation in the future—things would get expensive for sure.
She paused.
Another familiar yet vague word that she knew the meaning. One thing for sure—she now trusted those strange words with otherworldly meaning.
…..
The next day broke cold enough to bite. Kana dressed in her usual armor, the pieces arranged to guard her vitals without weighing her down. Suri was still asleep when she left, curled beneath blankets like a cat in winter. Kana pulled a thick scarf around her neck—an unusual habit for her, but the capital’s chill was sharper than she’d expected. Saltrain Village had winters, but they weren’t this cold. And this wasn’t even the heart of the season yet.
The streets were quiet in the early morning, the second day of the weekend. Few people braved the cold, and those who did kept their heads down.
Kana headed straight for the upper district. Here, the cobblestones gave way to clean, pale stone, the kind polished for no reason other than to look important. The houses swelled into mansions, each sitting proudly behind gates that spoke of wealth and old blood.
Professor Bane’s home was no house—it was a mansion. Not as large as Duke Stark’s, but still twice the size of anything in the lower wards.
A servant met her at the entrance, giving a polite nod and a motion to follow. Inside, the air was warm, the scent of burning wood curling from a small chimney fire in the sitting room. Kana took a seat near its heat, her scarf still damp with melted frost.
Professor Dufer entered a moment later, dressed simply—though even the plain shirt spoke of expensive cloth and careful tailoring.
“Good cold morning to you, Kana,” he said, settling into the chair across from her.
“Likewise, Professor Dufer.”
“We’ll talk for a few minutes,” he said. “I want to know a bit more about you. I’ll also share what I’ve noticed.”
Kana nodded.
“You’ve probably realized by now,” he began, “that some parts of the Bane Dagger Art require a low presence.”
“I know,” Kana said. “My class is [Ranger], and—”
He cut in. “Which is an odd hybrid between [Bowman] and either [Rogue] [Thief] or [Scout]. The trouble is… you don’t carry the same quiet presence those classes do. Yours is closer to a [Swordsman]… or a [Spearman].”
The words caught her off guard. She’d assumed her class automatically gave her a low presence—that she could fade in and out of notice at will. But that wasn’t true. Anyone with sharp senses could pick her out easily.
Her mind jumped to the night of the merchant vault raid. The man who could command animals—he’d spotted her without effort even without his beast. That’s why she’d had to punch him.
“What should I do?”
“There’s something I need to ask first,” Dufer said. “Do you have a skill that masks your presence?”
Kana shook her head. She thought back to the skills she’d gained at level twenty—nothing that came close to stealth. She doubted she’d ever unlock one.
“Well, not much to be done about that.” Dufer sighed. “Accept it, and be aware of it. Speed won’t save you if they’ve already noticed you.”
“I could give you some breathing tricks,” he added, “but I doubt they’d help.” He rose to his feet. “Follow me.”
..
Kana was led to a basement with so much space. There were training racks, strange ropes, and wooden logs that stood at different angles.
“Here’s the thing that will help you. But I want you to show something first. An old man’s trick.”
Dufer crossed to a weapons stand, selecting two short wooden daggers. He tossed one to her without warning. Kana caught it on reflex, her scarf sliding loose around her neck.
“We’re not working on presence today,” he said, “but some kind of awareness trick.”
She frowned. “I thought awareness wasn’t my problem.”
“You’re thinking in one direction.” He stepped into the center of the mat. “Awareness isn’t about watching your target. It’s about letting your body notice before your mind does and tricking their awareness—tricking what they see.”
Kana joined him on the mat.
“Close your eyes,” Dufer said.
She hesitated.
“Close them.”
She did.
The first strike came fast—wood smacking against her dagger, jarring her wrist. She gritted her teeth and pushed back, but Dufer was already moving, the air shifting to her right before his next blow landed. She blocked again, barely even with her [High Awareness] actively running.
“You’re reacting too late,” Dufer said, his voice steady. “By the time your mind says there, your body is already behind.”
Another strike—low this time. She caught it by instinct alone.
“Presence,” he continued, “isn’t always about hiding. It’s about controlling what people notice. You can’t vanish, Kana. So make them notice the wrong thing.”
She opened her eyes, breathing hard. “Like… misdirection?”
“Exactly. Force them to track your weapon, your voice, your footwork—anything but your center of mass. If they’re watching the wrong thing, they might as well be blind.”
He struck again, this time a feint to her left followed by a swift jab toward her ribs. Her block came late—too late—and the dull thump of wood against her side reminded her what would have happened if these weren’t practice blades though it would have a different result if her eyes were wide open.
“You’ll never have a [Rogue] minimal presence,” Dufer chuckled. “It’s the other way.. You have too much presence but you can make their awareness useless. That’s the trick.”
He stepped back, lowering his dagger. “Again.”
Kana tightened her grip and nodded. This time, she didn’t just hold the dagger—she let it move, letting her footwork draw small, deliberate attention while her real intent waited just beyond it.
After a few minutes of sparring, to her surprise, a notification popped up.
[Progress:5.26%]
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