Re:Birth: A Slow Burn LitRPG Mage Regressor

The black market sprawled through the harbor district like a parasite that had learned to mimic respectability. During the day, it looked almost legitimate—vendors hawking dried fish and ship supplies, dock workers loading cargo, the occasional tourist looking for "authentic local crafts."

Adom knew better. Half the fish vendors were fences. The ship supplies included things that would make Imperial customs agents very unhappy. And those authentic local crafts had a disturbing tendency to hum with unauthorized magic.

He walked slowly through the crowd, hands in his pockets, looking like any other customer browsing the stalls. The dog trotted beside him, nose constantly moving, occasionally stopping to investigate particularly interesting scents.

"Anything?" Adom asked quietly.

The dog glanced up at him, then went back to sniffing. Not yet.

They passed a woman selling "imported spices" that definitely weren't spices. A man offering "navigational instruments" that would have been more useful for breaking into places than finding them. Two kids running some kind of shell game that involved actual magic shells.

The dog paused at a stall selling weapons. Its nose twitched as it investigated a display of supposedly decorative daggers.

They were here, it said suddenly.

Adom stopped walking. "Recently?"

No. Days ago. The scent is old.

"Can you follow it?"

The dog put its nose to the ground and started moving. Not quickly—the trail was faint and kept getting interrupted by fresher smells. Fish guts. Unwashed humans. Something that might have been rotting seaweed or might have been rotting something else entirely.

They wove through the market at the dog's pace. Slow enough that Adom had time to notice things. Like how the vendor at the weapon stall was watching them with slightly too much interest. Or how the crowd seemed to naturally part around certain people—the kind of people who made other people nervous without quite knowing why.

The dog led them past a row of food stalls where the health inspectors had clearly given up. Past a bookshop that probably didn't stock anything you could read without risking madness. Past a fortune teller whose crystal ball was either very cloudy or very full of something that wasn't supposed to be there.

The scent splits here, the dog said, stopping at a crossroads between market rows.

"Splits how?"

Like they became different people. One scent goes that way. The dog looked left. Another goes that way. It looked right. Both smell like the same person, but also not.

Adom considered this. A changeling testing different forms, maybe. Trying to find one that worked for whatever they were planning.

"Which scent is stronger?"

The dog sniffed carefully at the ground. This one. It started walking right.

They followed the trail deeper into the market, where the stalls got shabbier and the vendors got more suspicious. Here, people didn't bother pretending their goods were legitimate. Magic items sat openly on tables next to stolen jewelry and weapons that hummed with illegal enchantments.

Nobody bothered them. Adom was dressed plainly enough to blend in, and the dog looked like any other street mutt. Just another customer browsing for questionable goods.

The trail led them around a corner into a section of the market that Adom hadn't visited before. The stalls here were more like permanent shops, with actual walls and doors. Some had signs. Most didn't bother.

The dog stopped in front of a narrow building squeezed between a shop selling "rare books" and another offering "discreet transportation services."

Here, it said. The scent is very strong here.

Adom looked up at the building. No sign, but the windows on the upper floor showed warm light. The ground floor was darker, with heavy curtains blocking the view inside.

"What kind of place is this?" he murmured.

A tavern, apparently.

Through the curtained windows, he could make out the dim shapes of people sitting at tables. The sound of conversation and clinking glasses drifted out through gaps around the door.

The dog's tail was wagging slightly. They're in there. Right now.

Adom crouched down and patted the dog's head. "Good boy."

The dog's tail started wagging harder, its whole body wiggling with excitement.

"Do you like meat?"

The tail went into overdrive. The dog's tongue lolled out slightly.

Adom smiled. "Of course you like meat." He scratched behind the dog's ears. "Wait for me here, alright? When this is over, I'll get you all the meat you can eat."

Really? The dog's eyes went wide with hope.

"Really. Just stay here and keep watch. Can you do that for me?"

Yes! I can wait. I'm very good at waiting.

Adom stood and pulled out his communication crystal. A few seconds later, Valiant's voice crackled through.

"Yeah?"

"Keep researching artifacts in the market. Look for anything that matches my descriptions. If you find something, take it quietly."

"Got it. Any luck on your end?"

"I think I have a lead. Going in now."

"Be careful, yeah? These changeling things sound nasty."

"I will."

Adom cut the connection and pocketed the crystal. He looked down at the dog one more time. "Remember—wait here."

I will wait. For the meat.

*****

The tavern's door was heavy wood reinforced with iron bands. It opened with a creak that probably announced every customer to the entire establishment. Not great for stealth, but Adom wasn't trying to sneak in anyway.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

The interior hit him like a wall of sensory overload. Thick smoke from cheap tobacco mixed with something sweeter—probably dream herb, which wasn't technically illegal but wasn't exactly encouraged either.

The air was heavy with incense that didn't quite cover the underlying smells of unwashed bodies, spilled alcohol, and roasted meat.

A female snake beastkin danced around a pole in the center of the room. Her movements were fluid and hypnotic. Scales caught the lamplight as she spun, creating patterns of green and gold that shifted with each motion. The performance was surprisingly elegant for a place like this—more art than spectacle.

Most of the patrons were ignoring her. They were too busy with their own conversations, their own drinks, their own questionable business dealings.

Adom scanned the room quickly. The dog had described a man sitting alone, watching the dancer.

There. At a table near the back wall.

Dark hair, average build, the kind of forgettable face that could belong to anyone. He was nursing a drink and staring at the snake woman with attention.

Adom found an empty table with a clear view of both the man and the exit. He settled into a chair that had seen better decades and waited for someone to notice him.

A waitress appeared after a few minutes. She looked tired.

"What'll it be?"

"Whatever you have on tap."

She nodded and disappeared. Came back with a mug of something that was probably beer. Adom paid her and wrapped his hands around the mug without drinking any of it. Alcohol would dull his reflexes, and he had a feeling he was going to need them soon.

While he waited, Adom carefully channeled a thin thread of mana. The tracking spell was subtle—barely more than a whisper of magic that would attach itself to the target and allow him to follow from a distance. He directed it toward the man at the back table, letting it settle on him like invisible dust.

The man continued watching the dancer, completely unaware that he was now marked. His posture was relaxed, but there was something about the way he held his shoulders that suggested he was ready to move quickly if necessary. Professional caution, maybe. Or just the kind of paranoia that kept people alive in places like this.

Adom settled in to wait.

Thirty minutes later, the man finished his drink and stood up. He moved with confidence, nodding to a few other patrons as he headed for the door.

Adom gave him a ten-second head start, then followed. The tracking spell would let him maintain distance while keeping tabs on his target's location.

He slipped his hand into his pocket and felt the cool metal of the invisibility ring Thorgen had given him a couple years back. The dwarf had insisted it was a practical gift, though Adom suspected it was more about Thorgen wanting to show off his connections to high-end enchanters. The thing had cost more than most people made in a year.

He rarely carried it. Invisibility was something he could manage himself with the right spells, and the ring felt like cheating somehow. But today, having one less spell to maintain while tracking a changeling seemed like a reasonable trade-off.

He slipped the ring onto his finger and felt the familiar shimmer as the world became slightly less solid around him. To anyone watching, he'd simply vanished.

The man headed for the main entrance, Adom spotted the dog still sitting exactly where he'd left it, looking hopeful and patient.

When the dog saw the man, everything changed. It started growling, low and threatening, then escalated to full barking. Other people in the area shot dirty looks in the direction of the barking. They'd obviously come to a black market to avoid attention-drawing nonsense, not listen to it.

The man quickened his pace, clearly wanting to get away from the noise.

Adom reached out with his druidic senses. It's alright. I'm following him. Wait for me—I'll be back with meat soon.

The dog's ears perked up, and it stopped barking immediately. Its tail gave a small wag even though it couldn't see Adom anywhere.

Good hunting, it said quietly.

The man was already disappearing into the crowd, muttering something about "damn strays" under his breath.

Following someone while invisible should have been easy.

The problem was that the changeling moved like someone who knew he might be followed. He took random turns, doubled back on himself twice, and stopped frequently to examine shop windows while using the reflections to check behind him.

After twenty minutes of winding through increasingly narrow streets, the man finally seemed satisfied that he wasn't being pursued. He relaxed his pace and headed into a residential area where the buildings leaned against each other like tired old friends.

The changeling turned into an alley that looked like it might connect to another street. Adom followed, staying well back and keeping his footsteps as quiet as possible.

The alley was a dead end.

The man had stopped about halfway down, standing with his back to the entrance. He hadn't moved for several seconds.

"Who are you?" the man asked without turning around. His voice was calm, conversational. "And how did you recognize me? Was it the dog?"

Adom pulled off the ring and let himself become visible again. "Yeah."

The changeling still didn't turn around. "You have exactly one chance to leave this alley and forget what you've seen. I suggest you take it."

"I don't feel like leaving," Adom said.

"Your funeral."

The man spun around, crossbow already in his hands and aimed. The weapon looked wrong—too sleek, too perfectly balanced. Runes along the stock glowed faintly blue.

The trigger clicked.

SWICK.

[Flow Prediction]

The crossbow bolt stopped three inches from Adom's chest, hanging motionless in the air like it had hit an invisible wall.

The changeling's eyes went wide.

Adom looked at the suspended projectile. "Enhanced speed." He tilted his head. "You used one of my artifacts to accelerate projectiles."

The man was already reaching for another bolt, his movements quick and practiced.

Adom sighed.

Energy crackled between his fingers for just a moment before he sent a controlled current through the air. Not enough to kill, but more than enough to drop someone.

[Lightning]

The changeling collapsed.

Adom caught the crossbow before it could hit the ground and examined it more closely. The runes were definitely his work, part of one of the amplification prototypes that had gone missing. If he hadn't had the inhuman reflexes he currently has, he would have been dead before he could react.

Even with those reflexes, he'd barely seen the bolt coming. He looked down at the unconscious changeling and felt a surge of irritation.

Adom grabbed the man under the arms and started levitating him toward the alley entrance. There was a good boy waiting for his meat.

*****

The dog sat where the human had told him to sit. He was good at sitting. He was good at waiting too, even when his stomach made unhappy noises and his legs got tired from all the running and tracking.

The meat would come soon. The human had promised meat. All the meat he could eat.

Time moved strangely when you were waiting. The sun had moved across the sky, and now shadows were getting longer. People walked past without looking at him. Some stepped around him like he was just another piece of street furniture.

Maybe the human had forgotten. Humans forgot things sometimes. They forgot to leave food out, forgot that dogs got cold at night, forgot that promises mattered to dogs.

But this human had been different. This human had listened when he talked. This human had patted his head just right.

His stomach made another noise. Louder this time.

The tracking had been hard work. Following scents through crowds, remembering faces, staying alert. Now he felt empty and tired in a way that made his legs shake a little when he tried to stand.

Maybe he would just rest his eyes for a moment. Just until the human came back.

He curled up next to the wall and let his eyelids drift closed. The stones were cold against his side, but he'd slept on worse things.

Something wet and freezing hit his back.

He yelped and scrambled to his feet, shaking water from his fur. A human stood over him with a bucket, making loud sounds with its mouth. Angry sounds. The human gestured at him with sharp movements.

Go away, was what the gestures meant. You don't belong here.

He tried to stand properly, but his legs were still shaky from the hunger and the sudden cold water. The movement took longer than it should have.

The human made more angry sounds. It raised the bucket again.

The water stopped in the air.

It hung there like it had frozen solid, droplets suspended between the bucket and the ground.

The dog turned around.

His human was standing behind him, talking to the bucket-human in the sharp sounds that humans made when they were angry. His human's voice was low and dangerous, and the bucket-human took a step back.

Something warm spread through the dog's chest. The human was angry for him. Someone was angry on his behalf. When was the last time that had happened?

Never.

The bucket-human made quieter sounds and walked away quickly, leaving the bucket behind.

His human crouched down and patted his head. The same gentle scratches behind the ears, the same careful pressure that said you're a good dog without needing words.

The dog leaned into the touch. Humans didn't usually understand how important patting was. Most of them did it wrong—too rough, or too quick, or like they were afraid he might bite them. This human knew exactly how to make it feel safe.

Then he smelled it.

Meat. Real meat, not the scraps he usually found in trash piles or the questionable things people sometimes threw at him. This was fresh and warm and wonderful.

His human smiled. That expression he'd learned to recognize as happiness.

"I'm sorry it took so long. I had to drop the bad person somewhere." The human opened the bag that contained the promise. " I brought you this."

The words made sense again, flowing into his mind like they belonged there.

The dog's tail started wagging so hard his whole body wiggled. Meat. All the meat he could eat.

The human had kept his promise.