The road ahead was a muddy mess.
The heavy rain from not long ago had left its mark everywhere, and in this coastal city—where humidity was already part of everyday life—the aftermath lingered.
Here, in the slums, crushed grass, animal waste, and various unidentifiable filth were mixed together under the constant trampling of carriages and pedestrians, forming a sludge whose color alone was enough to make one's stomach turn.
A nauseating stench of rot and fish hung thick in the air. Along both sides of the road, fishmongers worked in this foul environment, cleaning their catch and trying to sell whatever spoiled fish and rotten shrimp they could salvage for a few dinars.
As a newly established colonial city, such a vast and miserable slum shouldn't have existed at all. Most of the settlers who came here were peasants under noble rule, people who originally had stable sources of income.
Yet the other group—those free citizens who came here of their own accord—were often individuals with extraordinary courage and ambition, seeking fortune in distant lands.
Unfortunately, after decades of peace, the colony had suffered one misfortune after another: greenskin invasions in some regions, strange subterranean creatures surfacing in others. Waves of war refugees flooded into the major cities, and together they formed this massive scar on the city's body.
When Aldric and Vittoria, both cloaked, appeared in the area, the muddy street fell silent. Whether it was the numb-faced poor or the lurking gang members, everyone instinctively kept their distance.
A man with twin sabers at his waist and a towering woman who looked like she could break bones with her bare hands—neither seemed like people anyone would want to provoke. In this part of town, "strangers who are hard to deal with" were synonymous with trouble.
"Vittoria, we'll need to find a local guide," Aldric muttered as he scanned the maze-like streets. Countless makeshift shacks and crooked alleyways made the layout completely unrecognizable compared to the map. Yet perhaps Vittoria's intimidating presence was too much—everyone nearby stayed far, far away from them.
"We should come back at night," Vittoria said quietly. Her tone was steady and experienced. "We're too conspicuous right now. Moving around in broad daylight like this will alert our targets. In these slums, they hide in the shadows—and we're shining like lanterns."
Her words brought back old memories of her past—patrolling the decadent, crime-ridden districts of Arabia. The same tension, the same watchful silence.
Aldric sighed and shrugged helplessly. "Can't be helped. I'm not confident fighting those assassins again in the dark. My teacher said they're skilled at using shadows themselves. Forget it, let's just do this the dumb way—find a local tough and squeeze some information out of him."
His gaze drifted through the crowd and settled on a man who immediately struck him as the most suspicious.
The man's bare skin was covered in flamboyant tattoos, and his leering expression set him apart from the ordinary poor. The moment he realized that a pair of unfamiliar, armed strangers were watching him, the tattooed man turned sharply, attempting to slip away into the crowd.
Vittoria effortlessly shouldered through the people ahead, clearing a path like a plow cutting through weeds. The two of them followed their quarry at a measured pace—never running, never losing sight. Each time the man tried to speed up, they quickened their steps just enough to close the distance again.
Within five minutes, the poor fellow was gasping for breath, stumbling into a slightly sturdier-looking building that stood out amidst the chaos of the slums.
…
The man's name was Bram, a petty thug born and raised in this district. As one of the local gang's low-level enforcers, his job besides guarding the door was simple: collect protection fees, and squeeze whatever few remaining coins could be wrung from the already impoverished residents.
Recently, his boss, Rusk, had given him new orders—to collect a so-called "business tax" (as Rusk called it officially) from the street vendors and shady dealers, and at the same time, to warn them that things in the slums weren't safe lately. Too many people had gone missing. Anyone with information could trade it for a bit of pocket change.
But now, Bram's heart was filled with regret and dread. Earlier, when he'd noticed two dangerous-looking strangers on the street, he thought he was just doing his job—keeping an eye out for anything suspicious like Rusk had said. He'd watched them a little too long, and before he knew it, they had followed him all the way home!
Judging by their posture and presence, they were definitely not to be trifled with. Bram swallowed hard, wondering whether even Boss Rusk could protect him this time.
Aldric shot Vittoria a look and gestured politely for her to take the lead. The "lady" warrior didn't hesitate for a moment. She stepped forward and pushed the door open. Under the pressure of her 19 Strength, the lock gave way like clay being molded—warped, cracked, and then burst apart with a loud snap.
The heavy door flew inward.
With the occupants staring in terror, Vittoria bent slightly to pass through the doorway, moving with the same ease as if she were stepping into her own bedroom.
Aldric followed right behind her into the dimly lit room. Counting Bram, there were seven people inside.
The bald man at the head of the group immediately raised both hands in surrender. Without hesitation, he kicked several of his subordinates who had instinctively grabbed daggers and clubs.
"Honored sirs!" the bald man stammered, his voice trembling. "If Bram has done something to offend you, please—deal with him as you see fit! I have no objections whatsoever!"
The tattooed man froze in disbelief, his face falling. Turning to face Aldric and Vittoria, he raised his hands in panic and tried to speak quickly:
"Honored lords, I swear, I didn't do anything! You—you're adventurers, right? Here to investigate the… the little secrets of the slums?"
Bram blurted out the first excuse that came to mind, his small, shifty eyes darting between the two strangers with desperate innocence.
…
Port Anthony – City Guard Headquarters
A fully armored soldier hurriedly burst into the room where two men were in the middle of a heated argument. He was still panting as he saluted and exclaimed, "Sirs, bad news!"
Without waiting to catch his breath, he continued, "This morning, we received reports that another fourteen people have gone missing in the port district!"
The debate came to an abrupt halt.
One of the two men, dressed in ornate clothing, was Sir Casla of Anthony Port—a man in his fifties who had once helped the late Count build this very city. He lifted his head, his bloodshot eyes filled with fury.
"I thought we strengthened the guard around the port!" Sir Casla bellowed. "How could there be more disappearances? You useless fools! Will you only act after the enemy attacks the City Guard directly? Every year we spend a fortune maintaining you lot—what good does it do?"
Across from him stood a young knight, his face stern and serious. Hearing Casla's outburst, he spoke calmly but firmly,
"Sir, it's time we grant the temple full authority. I have credible intelligence—these are the acts of corrupted Chaos cultists hiding within the city. This is beyond what mortal forces can handle. You've seen the white mist in the Black Forest; you don't even realize what it truly signifies! The time for old prejudices is over. We must report this to the Church and request the deployment of paladins to conduct a full-scale investigation within the city. Otherwise, the city itself will fall into danger!"
"...Do we really have to involve the Church?"
Sir Casla's expression twisted with hesitation. He wanted to deny it, yet deep down he knew the young paladin was right—at least seventy to eighty percent right.
Because what the paladin didn't know was that the disappearances hadn't started in the port—they'd begun a month ago in the slums. At first, it was just a few missing persons. But as days passed, entire streets began to vanish overnight.
By morning, entire blocks were empty. Even the gangs, who usually treated human life as worthless, had started reporting the incidents to the City Guard themselves.
Yet, if the Church got involved… what would happen to his little secret with Antoine?
(End of Chapter)