Rise from the gutters a.., p.1
Rise From The Gutters: A LitRPG Fantasy Adventure, page 1
RISE FROM THE GUTTERS
THE THEOGENESIS THEOREM BOOK 1
FAEDIN V.
Copyright © 2025 FAEDIN V.
All rights reserved
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
ISBN-13: 9781234567890
ISBN-10: 1477123456
Cover design by: Art Painter
Library of Congress Control Number: 2018675309
Printed in the United States of America
“Laughter rose as the Gods played their games. Tears fell as twin Goddesses plunged their swords. Creation screamed as I broke the board.”
- written on the wall of a buried temple, religion lost, date of inscription unknown.
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Epigraph
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
Twenty-Six
Twenty-Seven
Twenty-Eight
Twenty-Nine
Thirty
Thirty-One
Thirty-Two
Thirty-Three
Thirty-Four
Where it ends and begins again
Acknowledgement
One
The sun was setting over the winding alleyways of Stonehollow, casting streaks of gold across the stone. The light looked warm, but the air wasn’t.
Theo moved quietly, blending into the crowd of late-day marketgoers. His feet knew the cracks in the cobblestone. His eyes darted from face to face, always watchful and thinking.
He knew better than to rush.
On the streets, patience could mean the difference between a meal and an empty stomach. It could also decide between safety and a bruise.
Theo’s stomach let out a low growl, but he pushed the sound aside and kept his eyes on the stout merchant. The man packed chestnuts into small paper cones with the kind of care that made Theo’s mouth water. A treat Theo hadn’t tasted in months, and one that he couldn’t afford. Not without a bit of cleverness.
Just wait. Breathe.
He watched the merchant turn and strike up a conversation with a woman who held a basket of fresh bread on her hip. Theo’s hand itched, and he could almost feel the familiar tug of opportunity.
His eyes narrowed as the man’s gaze drifted to the side, just long enough to show he was distracted. That was all Theo needed. He stepped forward, smooth and easy like the river in Stonehollow. His fingers brushed the edge of the chestnut pouch—
“Oi!”
Theo’s heart skipped a beat.
He jerked back, quick as a snake, and spun on his heel, ready to bolt. His legs coiled, muscles tensing for a sprint, but he didn’t run immediately. A [Street Survivor] didn’t run on panic. He ran on timing, instinct, and enough nerve to make bad ideas work.
The shout hadn’t been for him. Just two kids scrapping in the middle of the street, one throwing a bony fist at the other like it meant something. The merchant hadn’t even noticed Theo’s near-theft.
He let out a breath.
“Careful, Theo. Just because you’ve survived this long doesn’t mean you’ll keep getting lucky.”
But he’d learned that lesson the hard way. Survival wasn’t about strength alone. It was about knowing when to move and when to stay still. A skill he’d honed to perfection.
A group of guardsmen clanked by. Theo slipped deeper into the shadows, his ears twitching at the sound of their boots. The crowd moved on, none the wiser, and Theo melted into the darkness of a side alley, the prize still out of reach.
He whispered to himself, a habit he’d picked up when there was no one else to listen.
"Nice one, Theo. Reach for the stars, get slapped by reality. For fuck's sake."
Theo pressed his back against the cool stone wall at the edge of the alley. The city buzzed around him, low and constant, like a second heartbeat. The air carried spices, smoke, and that damp sting of worn stone.
His eyes scanned the street beyond, searching for another opportunity. His fingers flexed and unflexed, still restless, still hungry.
“Focus. Chestnuts can wait. Something easier, something—”
His words froze between thought and breath when he saw a potential target. There he stood, a plump, well-dressed man. He pushed through the crowd, his satchel bouncing at his side as if it had never known caution. Theo’s eyes zeroed in on the satchel’s loose buckle. Easy pickings. Or at least, it seemed that way.
Theo knew the type. Merchants like this always had something valuable. It could be coins, contracts, or trinkets worth a few meals.
He bit his lip, considering. Was it worth the risk? The guards hadn’t gone far and they had a nasty habit of doubling back when you least expected it.
He debated with himself, a habit that came naturally after years of making these choices.
“Might not get another chance like this today. But then again, getting caught isn’t on the plan either.”
A gust of wind swept through the alley and tugged at the torn edges of his jacket. Theo yanked his hood lower, just enough to hide the tips of his ears. Another habit, born from experience. Or maybe just paranoia with better branding.
“No one likes a half-elf. Especially one with [Sticky Fingers]. But hey, if they’re already judging, might as well live up to the reputation, right?”
Decision made, he stepped back onto the street and kept his eyes on the merchant with every move the man made. This time, Theo had a plan. He didn’t rush in. He moved through the crowd, pretending to check out a stall with trinkets and amulets. He ran his hands over the worn wood. A small smirk appeared as he heard a vendor shout at a customer nearby. The crowd shifted in response, and Theo moved with them, a leaf on the wind.
Closer. Just a few more steps.
The merchant came to a sudden stop and pulled out a kerchief to dab at his sweaty face. Theo adjusted his approach, his steps silent and calculated. He reached out, the tips of his fingers brushing the satchel's flap—
“Why do you look like you’re about to rob someone?”
Theo nearly jumped out of his skin. He twirled, heart pounding like a drum, only to behold a familiar sight. A wiry figure stood there, a mop of messy hair atop their head, as if chaos had decided to drop by for a chat. It was another street kid, one he knew well enough to trust but never enough to relax around. Suspicion was a survival skill around here.
“Thanks for announcing it to the whole city. Perfect timing. Maybe next time yell it louder so even the guards on the other side of the city know what I’m up to.”
“Just making sure you haven’t gone soft. That merchant looks like he’d cry for his mummy if he caught you.”
“Some of us don’t have time for commentary. Or for getting ratted out if someone overhears.”
“Relax. He’s too busy mopping up sweat to notice you.”
Her eyes flicked to the satchel, then back to Theo.
“Want me to make a scene?”
Theo considered it.
They’d pulled off stunts together before, and distractions were this kid’s specialty. But trust was a slippery thing on the streets, and Theo didn’t want to take unnecessary risks.
“Nah. Just keep an eye out and keep quiet.”
“Fine, suit yourself. But if you get caught, I’m claiming your corner tonight.”
Theo gave her a mock salute, then turned back to the merchant. This time, he moved faster, weaving through the crowd as if he belonged there. He came in from a different angle, slid his hand under the flap of the satchel, and found exactly what he hoped for. A coin pouch with just enough weight to feel like a small victory.
He had just closed his fingers around the prize when—
“Hey, you!”
Theo didn’t wait to see who shouted. Instinct kicked in fast, and he turned on the spot, legs already in motion as he bolted through the crowd. People swore and stepped aside as he moved by, quick and focused. Each step landed right where it should.
“Get him!”
Theo didn’t bother to look back. He knew what would come next: guards, truncheons, and a rough night in a cell if he wasn’t quick.
The city faded as he ran, and his feet hit the cobblestones quietly.
He veered sharply into a cramped alley, just wide enough for his slender form. The clatter of armoured boots echoed behind him as the guards pursued relentlessly.
Theo’s heart raced like a drum, but he steadied his breath, finding calm amidst chaos. This was where his training and his hard-won Skills came into play.
“[Basic Quick
He whispered it, as if invoking the name of the Skill would make him even faster. And maybe it did, because his legs pumped harder as he dashed into the familiar maze of alleys and side streets.
He soared over a mountain of crates, ducking beneath a fluttering clothesline. Sliding across a slick patch of mud, he felt the adrenaline kick in. The thrill of the chase tingled through him. Yet, he banished the pleasure to the back of his mind. Not just yet. Not until he found safety.
A dead end loomed ahead, and Theo cursed under his breath. He looked around quickly, thoughts tripping over each other in a scramble for ideas.
No brilliant idea, just the practical kind that shows up when you need it most. An old creaky ladder clung to the side of the building and reached up towards the rooftops. Theo didn’t hesitate. He jumped, grabbed hold, and pulled himself upwards as fast as his tired muscles could manage.
He reached the top just as the guards rounded the corner below. Theo flattened himself against the rooftop, holding his breath. He listened, every muscle tight. The guards cursed and argued, their voices echoing off the stone walls.
"Gods-fucking-damn it! You see what I mean? Street rats in this part of town move like shadows. You blink and they’re gone!"
“Oh, fuck off! You’re the one who slipped up. I told you to circle left!"
“Oh, yeah? And I told you to check right, but here we are, empty-handed and yelling in an alley like fucking amateurs. Come on, he couldn’t have gone far. We’ll sweep the side alleys.”
Theo let a small, satisfied smile pull at his lips as the voices behind him drifted into nothing. Shadows. He liked that. And it made perfect sense. He didn’t fight head-on, didn’t win by strength. He slipped through cracks, moved unseen, lived in the spaces no one else noticed. He was a [Street Survivor] and if the streets had shadows, they were his.
Once he was sure the coast was clear, Theo sat up, his breath coming in gasps. He opened his hand and looked at the coin pouch he’d risked everything for. It wasn’t heavy, but it was enough. Enough to buy food. Enough to survive another day.
He clenched his fist around the pouch and looked out over the city. Stonehollow lay ahead, both beautiful and dangerous. Here, a half-elf orphan like him had to battle for every scrap.
Theo leaned back, letting the adrenaline drain out of him. He rubbed a hand over his face, the grime and sweat mixing into a familiar film on his skin. His stomach growled, louder than he liked, and he sighed.
“Alright, what’s on the menu today?”
He glanced at the small pouch of coins, shaking it as if expecting a feast to fall out.
“Something warm, maybe. Or, you know, edible. Beggars can’t be choosers.”
He tucked the coin pouch into the inner pocket of his patched-up jacket, making sure it was secure. The last thing he needed was to drop his hard-earned meal ticket. He rolled onto his knees, crawling with caution to the edge of the roof before peeking down.
The street below was lively as ever.
Merchants shouted their evening deals. Buyers haggled like their lives depended on it. But Theo’s eyes weren’t on the crowd. He scanned for guards, the familiar blue-and-silver uniforms glinting in the fading sunlight.
"Where did you go, shiny tin cans?”
No sign of them, but he knew better than to trust a quiet moment. He’d made that mistake once and spent two nights hiding in a sewer.
Satisfied, at least for now, he swung himself off the roof and landed in a back alley with a gentle thud. He kept low and moved between stacks of crates and barrels, ears alert for any hint of pursuit.
The alleys were a maze he knew like the back of his hand, every twist and shadow mapped in his mind.
“So, dinner. A hot meat pie sounds good. Or maybe some stew. Just… nothing crawling with maggots this time.”
He reached the main street and lingered in the shadows, watching people pass. His eyes flicked to a stall that sold fresh bread, and warm steam rose from the crusty loaves.
The smell made his mouth water, and he considered his options. He could buy a loaf outright or risk sneaking something extra. The coin pouch wasn’t heavy, but he could stretch the money if he was smart.
"Right. Decisions. Real smart now, Theo. You blow it all on bread and it’s back to air and attitude by nightfall."
The baker’s gaze was keen, sharp as a knife’s edge. Guards often lingered by food stalls, waiting to catch hungry thieves. Theo clicked his tongue, dismissing the scene, and moved on. He crept along the market's fringes, pretending to browse. Yet, his eyes took in every detail: the guards’ routines, escape routes, and easy targets to exploit.
A couple of street kids ran past, laughed, and shoved each other as they went. Theo’s expression softened for a moment, but he pulled his hood lower. He knew better than to get too close, even to those like him. Trust was a luxury he couldn’t afford. Hope, clean boots, and the belief that people acted selflessly felt just as out of reach.
Finally, he found a small tavern tucked away from the main road. It wasn’t the fanciest place, of course. The paint flaked off the walls. The air smelled of ale and something burnt. But the owner didn’t ask questions, as long as you paid.
Theo walked in and approached the counter. He set down two coins on the worn wood and tried to look like he belonged.
"Good afternoon. I’ll take a meat pie, please. And if the soup’s warm and has something more than water in it, I’d be grateful for a bowl of that too."
The barkeep gave him a long, measuring look before nodding. Theo exhaled, not knowing he had been holding his breath. He leaned on the counter, his eyes wandering around the room, as they usually did when he felt unsafe.
The adrenaline still buzzed in him, making him aware of every movement nearby. A couple of workers downed pints in the corner, laughing loudly. A hooded figure nursed a drink alone, and two old men argued over the best way to catch river fish.
Theo’s fingers brushed the coin pouch.
One more day. Just get through one more day.
The barkeep returned with a steaming pie and a bowl of soup. Theo’s eyes lit up, and he slid the coins across, careful not to show how much the food meant to him. He took the plate and found an empty table near the back, away from prying eyes.
He dug into the pie with a hunger that felt bottomless, savoring each bite. It was salty, great, and perfect. The soup was thin, but it was warm, and he drank it as if it were nectar.
For a moment, the burden of the day faded.He dared to dream of a destiny beyond being a half-elf street urchin. More than just another wandering spirit in the shadows of Stonehollow.
“Yeah.”
He leaned back with a small, tired smile.
“Just one more day.”
He wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand, savouring the rare feeling of a full belly. The warmth of the pie and soup comforted him, easing some of the tension in his gut. For a few blissful seconds, he could almost pretend he wasn’t constantly one step away from ruin.
For a few seconds more, the moment stretched out, and he let it. But his mind always knew better. It always knew that moments like these were fleeting. And then, just as quickly, that fleeting peace dissolved.
Then he stood, the warmth of the meal already gone as he pulled his cloak into place. He paused briefly, aware of the weight of the coin pouch pressing against his side like a question he hadn’t answered yet. It wasn’t much, but it was more than he’d had in days. Enough to keep him going for a couple of days if he played it smart.
Maybe.
He rubbed his jaw and let his eyes wander to a nearby stall where fresh bread sat piled high. The loaves still gave off heat, and the scent curled into the air like a challenge. He bit the inside of his cheek and weighed the decision as if it might bite back.
"Bread would last the night. I could grab a loaf, maybe sleep easier knowing I won’t wake up starving."
But then, just as quickly, reality crashed in. Having food for the night was a luxury, and luxuries got you killed on the streets. A full stomach made you slow and made you reckless.
Theo cursed himself under his breath.
“Look at you. Get a couple of coins, and now you think you’re some fancy [Lord] who can throw money around?”
He turned away from the bread stall, determined to walk on, but his eyes betrayed him. They wandered back to the display of golden-crusted pies, lined up neatly in the tavern’s window. The memory of warm, tasty flavours stayed in his mouth. His stomach, always hungry, grumbled even louder.
