"Boss, we found Jowel's body."
Jowel was one of the people they'd sent to spread new rumors regarding Lark Marcus. He was among the best actors in the slums. A former member of the Blue Moonlight Troupe who had fallen into debt and decided to settle in this filthy place.
Luvik puffed out smoke from his pipe, his face looking grim.
"Where?" said Luvik.
"Near the temple. His body was cut into pieces," said his subordinate.
"And here." The man handed Luvik a bloodied parchment. "We found this letter next to his severed head."
Luvik read the parchment.
Stop meddling, rats.
It was a warning, a threat telling them to stop trying to quell the rumors spreading through the capital. A warning that they could easily massacre the slum people if they wished.
Luvik crumpled the parchment in anger. For the past two days, more than a dozen men from the slums had been killed, cut and mutilated beyond recognition.
"Those damn bastards," growled Luvik.
Even slum people had rules they did not dare violate, no matter what.
Unspoken rules they followed even in the ruthless jungle called the slums.
You could steal, but if possible, do not kill.
You could sell your body, like those women from the Red Light District, but do not involve young children.
Never touch the priests from the temple.
Do not get involved with the patrol.
You can loot dead bodies, but do not desecrate a person's corpse.
"Boss, isn't this getting too dangerous?" said one of his subordinates. "I understand that we've been given a fortune by that merchant. But involving ourselves in a battle between nobles…" Although the other people in the room did not voice their complaints, judging by their expressions, Luvik knew they were also starting to feel threatened by the deaths their group had sustained these past few days.
The subordinate added, "Boss, please reconsider. This is too big a battle for people like us."
"People like us?" said Luvik in a deep voice. His eyes were predatory as he looked at everyone in the room. Seeing his gaze, everyone instinctively shrunk their shoulders.
"This is the problem with the slum people. We are too content with the status quo. And we are too afraid of the unknown," said Luvik. He paused, "Listen. We are not doing this just for the sake of money. Do you really believe I would have accepted this task, despite knowing that our enemies are high-ranking nobles? Just for what? A few hundred gold coins?"
It was a lot of money. A fortune. But Luvik believed that the lives of the slum people were way more valuable than the glittering gold.
"This isn't a simple battle between nobles. We are not simply disposable pawns. This is our only shot at finally getting out of this filthy hellhole," said Luvik. "Our only shot at salvation."
"But, boss! It feels like we're gambling with our lives here—" Luvik smirked. The words uttered by his subordinate were spot on.
"That's right, a gamble," said Luvik. For some reason, the words rolled off his tongue. "And we're going all-in on our bet on Lark Marcus."
*** Zerachiel, the Lord of Death.
The name granted to the leader of the first division of Black Midas. The title of the undisputed strongest member of the organization.
Throughout the history of Black Midas, only three people had been granted this name. And among the three, the current Zerachiel was said to be the strongest.
"Lord Zerachiel," said one of the assassins. "We've lost contact with all of our men in the king's castle."
Zerachiel gazed coldly at the assassin kneeling before him. "The merchant?"
"All assassination attempts have failed, Lord."
It was subtle, but Zerachiel could see that the assassin kneeling before him was trembling. It was understandable. Failure was equivalent to death in Black Midas, after all.
Zerachiel remained silent. He looked at the five naked men tied up on the walls in the underground chamber. Particularly, he gazed at the old man in the middle.
The old man was Casius, the leader of the Information Guild Big Mona was associated with.
Upon receiving Duke Kelvin's orders, Zerachiel immediately mobilized his men and captured the leader of the Information Guild. Moreover, he was also the one who ordered the brutal massacre of the slum people.
This was just the start.
Just as Duke Kelvin ordered, Zerachiel used all methods available to attain their goal.
"Casius," said Zerachiel in a chilly voice.
The old man, whose face was swollen, slowly opened his eyes.
Although he'd heard it before, Casius still couldn't help but feel shivers whenever the leader of the first division spoke.
It felt like the man called Zerachiel was devoid of all emotion. It felt like he'd stopped being human a long time ago.
"Six hours. By tomorrow morning, if you still refuse to speak…" Zerachiel snapped his fingers and the heads of the four men next to Casius exploded, sending flesh, bone, and blood flying. "You'll meet a fate more horrible than death."
Casius looked at the headless corpses of his men and bit his lip. These four men were his most loyal guards who'd been serving him for more than a decade.
For several hours, they'd tortured Casius and his men. They flayed their skin, tore off their nails, whipped them, and poked their bodies with needles.
It was already a miracle that Casius had managed to remain alive this long.
A mocking smile slowly formed on Casius' face. "The so-called largest underworld syndicated of the kingdom failed to kill a mere merchant. How laughable."
Honestly, Casius had not expected things to escalate like this. He did not expect Black Midas would be desperate enough to actually abduct someone as influential as him.
Maybe he'd grown too old. What a blunder, Casius thought.
Still, even after being tortured for several hours, Casius never opened his mouth. He knew he would lose the only leverage he had with these people if he spoke.
Casius chuckled. "Listen. Even if you kill me here, it'll be only a matter of time before that swine, who you serve as your master, falls from grace.
Big Mona is no fool. With the information I've given him, he will surely find you."
For the first time, a frown formed on Zerachiel's face. Although he was regarded as a monster even by the members of their organization, he'd remained loyal to the duke and to the organization his whole life. For a moment, he had the urge to kill the old man for insulting his master.
"Watch your tongue," said Zerachiel. Blood lust oozed out of his body for a moment, effectively making Casius shut his mouth. Even the other members of Black Midas in the room couldn't help but tremble. Like cornered rabbits, they froze.
Zerachiel snapped his fingers, and Casius' right arm was bent to an impossible angle. Creaking sounds were heard as bones, joints, and flesh were twisted in the most gruesome manner.
"Ahhhh!" Casius screamed from the excruciating pain, his voice reverberating throughout the underground chamber.
"Patch him up," said Zerachiel.
"Yes!"
Swiftly, the other members of Black Midas moved and started administering healing potions on Casius. They had no intention of letting the old man die, at least until the promised date. They planned on wringing him dry for information until his last breath.
Strange, thought Zerachiel.
As the undisputed strongest in the organization, his senses were the sharpest. And right now, for some strange reason, he could not feel the presence of the other members of the organization on the upper floors.
Although they were underground, Zerachiel's senses were usually sharp enough to estimate the number of people moving aboveground.
Zerachiel glanced at Casius and the members of Black Midas behind him. They should be more than enough to guard the feeble old man.
Without uttering a word, he left the underground chamber.
As he was walking through the underground passageway, the eerie feeling within his chest became stronger. For the first time in many years, his heart loudly pounded. His instinct was screaming at him that he should get out of here quickly. That a monster far more dangerous than him had infiltrated their headquarters.
'No. That's impossible,' said Zerachiel.
There were several dozen members of Black Midas stationed on the upper floors. Some of them were disguised as merchants and some acted the role of herbalists. On the outside, this place was a well-known store selling medicinal herbs and potions. If a fight broke out, Zerachiel would have surely noticed, no matter what.
With this in mind, Zerachiel shook off the uneasy feeling in his heart.
And he immediately regretted not trusting his gut feeling afterward.
Arriving at the ground floor, Zerachiel was stunned to see several dead bodies lying on the ground. There were dead bodies on the counter, next to the shelves, and some even sitting on the chairs.
Judging by the position of the corpses and the state of the room, Zerachiel realized that all of them were killed in an instant. Massacred without even putting up a fight.
Who was it? Who was capable enough to slaughter these elite assassins in seconds?
As Zerachiel was pondering this, his body instinctively moved on its own. He unsheathed the sword on his waist and raised it to block his face.
To his surprise and horror, a massive force strong enough to pulverize his body struck the sword. Had he not moved instinctively, his head would have been blown off his body by now. With just a single blow, his sword formed cracks and shattered.
Zerachiel's body moved on its own once again. On instinct, he let go of the broken sword, sidestepped to the right, then ducked. Although he couldn't see the attacks, he knew that he managed to dodge all of them within that single-second exchange.
Zerachiel leaped back. He looked around. Even now, he couldn't see his opponents.
"Show yourselves," he said in a cold voice.
As though on cue, three large men slowly revealed themselves before him. Their hair had tinges of silver and one of their eyes was blue. The first one was leaning on the counter, the second standing by the exit, while the third one—the one who attacked him—stood a few meters in front of him.
"Impressive," said the one leaning on the counter.
"This is the first time someone blocked our attack, isn't that right?" said the one standing by the exit.
The third one grinned. "The others died without even noticing us. Even those on the upper floors. This is one impressive human."
The members of the Arzomos Tribe genuinely praised Zerachiel. Lark Marcus aside, this was the first they'd seen a human as strong as this one.
The Arzomos near the counter said, "We found the leader. Let's clean this up."
For the first time in his life, Zerachiel trembled not from rage, but fear.
Although the three in front of him looked human, Zerachiel instinctively knew they were monsters beyond his realm.
What were they doing here?
Why were they attacking this place?
From that single exchange, Zerachiel knew it would be impossible to win against these opponents. The only way he could live was to escape.
Duke Kelvin still needed him. He had to survive, no matter what.
Decisively, Zerachiel immediately shot straight toward the exit. He fearlessly charged toward the Arzomos guarding the door.
"You're not leaving."
The Arzomos guarding the room reached out his hand to grab Zerachiel. But to his surprise, the leader of the first division of Black Midas twisted his body at the last moment and nimbly evaded him.
I got through! thought Zerachiel.
He had confidence in his speed and wind magic. As long as he managed to get outside, those three shouldn't be able to catch him, no matter how strong they were.
Just as his hope was being rekindled, he suddenly felt a sharp force hitting his abdomen. His body was sent flying back inside the building. He hit the tables, the counter, and eventually the wall.
Blood dripped from his lips as he looked at the thing that had impaled him.
'Ice magic?' He realized that a long, sharp ice crystal had hit him and sent him flying back into the building. The speed of the projectile was so great that even he was unable to evade it.
"We stood guard outside, just in case. But to think that someone actually managed to escape."
Zerachiel's pupils trembled seeing two more Arzomos enter the room.
It seemed that two of them had been waiting outside, all along.
Zerachiel heard several footsteps to his right. The assassins from underground must have heard the commotion and were running here right now.
Although Zerachiel wanted to warn them, he knew it would be futile.
There was no hope for escape. Each of these people was strong enough to kill him, the first division leader of Black Midas, after all. His subordinates would never be their match.
With blood still dripping from his lips, Zerachiel mustered his remaining strength. In a weak voice, he said, "Why?"
On the verge of death, Zerachiel at least wanted an answer.
The Arzomos next to the destroyed counter reached out his hand. He grabbed Zerachiel's face and slowly put more strength into his grip.
"A dead man does not need to find out."
With those words as a cue, the Arzomos increased the strength of his grip and crushed Zerachiel's face without remorse or hesitation.
"We'll split up and search the place," said the Arzomos who killed Zerachiel. "Since a leader is here, we should be able to find several important documents."