"So, is this my cheat?"
Matthew muttered to himself, facing the iron gate and staying out of the orange glow of the oil lamps.
Before his eyes, a black screen slowly unfurled, dotted with lines of blocky white text.
[Host]: Matthew Waters
[Bloodline]: Baratheon (53%)... Valyrian Dragonlord (3%)
[Attributes] (Standard adult male level is 6):
Height: 176 cm (5'9")
Weight: 67 kg (147 lbs)
Constitution: 6 (Endurance, damage resistance, and recovery)
Strength: 6.5 (Physical power for combat and athletics)
Agility: 7 (Reaction speed, balance, and movement speed)
Spirit: 8 (Memory, logical thinking, and perception)
Charisma: 4 (Appearance, personality, and aura)
Mana: 0 (Ability to channel elemental forces)
[Skills]:
Swimming (Level 3): You move like a fish in water; your breath-holding and swimming ability far exceed the average person. (52,463/90,000)
Slashing (Level 2): Tens of thousands of focused swings mean every strike is executed with ease. (32,451/60,000)
[Rune Store (Refreshes weekly at midnight)]:
Lvl 1 Strength Rune: Increases Strength by 0.5 (10 Gold Coins)
Lvl 1 Agility Rune: Increases Agility by 0.5 (10 Gold Coins)
Lvl 1 Constitution Rune: Increases Constitution by 0.5 (10 Gold Coins)
Lvl 2 Durability Rune: Increases the durability of armor and weapons by 1 point (50 Gold Coins)
Lvl 3 Mana Rune: Increases Mana by 1.5 (250 Gold Coins)
Lvl 5 Blast Rune: Five seconds after use, creates a massive explosion covering a 300-meter radius (1,250 Gold Coins)
[Gold Coins]: 1
---
Scanning from top to bottom, it took only five seconds for Matthew's heart to go from pounding with excitement to turning stone cold.
The contrast between the prices in the Rune Store and the single gold coin in his possession was a brutal reality check.
He wondered if he just wasn't working hard enough.
"Fuck!"
Matthew decisively flipped the middle finger at the panel and tried to will it away.
Immediately, the panel slowly folded up and vanished.
Out of curiosity, Matthew mentally commanded the System to open again.
The panel reappeared.
After testing it a few times, Matthew confirmed he could operate the interface just by thinking about it.
He looked up at the dark window of the pawn shop and deliberately raised his voice to complain:
"Hmph. I thought a place recommended by the Church would actually be decent. I didn't expect garbage like this. I'm never coming back."
With that, Matthew turned, pulled open the iron gate, and strode out.
If you're going to put on a disguise, you have to commit. You can't leave any cracks in the performance. Gray areas that require customers to drop their guard are never to be trusted.
Walking through the tunnel, his pace quickened, looking every bit like an angry King's Landing local who'd been ripped off.
He didn't stop until he reached the pawn shop's main entrance, where he pulled his face covering back up.
Truth be told, right now, he would have preferred to stay inside.
Outside, a wave of stench drilled straight into his brain.
Having been away from it for just a short while—moving from 'luxury' back to squalor—made it feel even more disgusting.
Two and a half years. It had been two and a half full years, and Matthew still couldn't stomach this smell.
No one knew how hard he'd struggled just to survive these years.
King's Landing was more chaotic and filthy than any medieval city described in the history books back on Earth. The environment was wretched, and good people were basically extinct.
Sometimes, he thought the Mad King, Aerys II, actually had a solid idea with that whole "burn them all with wildfire" plan.
Staying sane in this place wasn't easy.
"Nothing but fucking lowlifes."
Thinking of the filth littering the ground outside the Black Market, Matthew couldn't help but curse internally.
The pungent stench blanketed the entire city; even a mask was useless against it. Every time he entered King's Landing from the outside, he had to mentally prepare himself for a long time.
It was supposed to be the Capital, but it felt more like a giant landfill.
Covering his nose and mouth, Matthew frowned deeply. He stood there for a moment before stepping out.
Flea Bottom was like a labyrinth of stink, filled with trash and puddles of questionable fluids. The low, slumping houses were packed together, looking crooked and diseased.
Once he was out of the Black Market, Matthew scanned left and right, locating the escape route he had scouted earlier.
He walked a few hundred steps to the left, passed the Pig Run, and followed a narrow southbound alley straight through the middle of Flea Bottom.
The air grew fouler, and the number of "lowlifes" increased.
One lowlife is a bug; a group of them is a wolf pack.
Plenty of people watched him pass—some scratching at lice, some smirking with bad intentions, others with faces eaten away by sores. Pot-bellied children ran around him, filthy but with sharp, bright eyes, looking at him like he was their next source of entertainment.
Fortunately, Matthew had re-acclimatized to the smell.
He pulled down his mask and rested his hand on his axe handle, his expression cold. He looked like a local ready to throw down at a moment's notice.
If he didn't, he was genuinely afraid the mob would rush him and strip him clean.
Flea Bottom was a slum, arguably the most lawless place in King's Landing. The deeper you went, the worse it got. Even the Gold Cloaks only patrolled here in squads.
Riots were common. When the mob got big enough, they'd throw shit at the King himself.
If they realized he was an outsider—and a nervous one at that—they wouldn't hesitate to slaughter this fat sheep.
Matthew's nerves were pulled tight. His left hand clenched into a fist, his right hand stayed perfectly still near his weapon. He walked briskly, feigning confidence, never hesitating on directions, acting like he belonged.
The people of Flea Bottom watched him walk away, no one daring to make the first move.
When he finally exited the central area and neared the Blackwater Rush drainage—locally known as 'Stinkwater Bay'—the crowd thinned out, and he finally breathed a sigh of relief.
There was a plague scare over here, so people avoided it.
Matthew didn't want to be here either, but it was the only way to shake off the prying eyes of Flea Bottom.
He skirted the edge of Stinkwater Bay, circling halfway around.
Just as he was about to leave the slum area and hit the main street, the sound of hurried footsteps came from behind him.
Matthew went on high alert instantly. He ducked sideways into a dark alley.
Conveniently, there was a pile of rotting wood in the shadows.
He crouched behind it, slowly drew his hatchet, and waited.
A moment later, the footsteps approached the alley entrance.
Clomp, clomp, clomp...
Inside the dark alley, Matthew pricked up his ears. He could hear two distinct sets of steps. Different gaits, different sounds—easy to distinguish.
They lingered at the entrance, not leaving, clearly looking for something.
Matthew hoped they weren't looking for him.
He'd taken a lot of crap in Flea Bottom today. His axe was thirsty.
Suddenly, a voice echoed from the alley mouth.
"Hey, where did that kid with the weird hair go? How did he vanish in the blink of an eye?"
Haji, the shorter of the two, dug a finger into his ear and replied carelessly, "You probably walked too slow and let the kid get ahead of us. Forget it, let's just go. The Boss is waiting for the money."
Duncan strained his neck and shrieked immediately, "Impossible! My ears never lie. Before his footsteps disappeared, he was definitely only twenty meters away. He couldn't have made it out of here."
After shouting, he huffed, then softened his tone, trying to persuade his partner. "Besides, that kid definitely has money on him. Don't you want to buy a bottle of the good stuff?"
Haji scratched his head and complained jokingly, "Oh, Duncan, you really are a devil. Fine, for the good wine, let's look again."
He turned around, kicking at the debris nearby, muttering intermittently.
"Hey, where could the damn kid go?"
"He has to be nearby."
"He couldn't have gone down a side alley, could he?"
After exchanging a few words, they suddenly went quiet.
In perfect sync, they turned their heads to look at the dark alley where Matthew was hiding. They nodded to each other, drew their daggers, and crept forward on tiptoe.
Matthew, having heard every word, took a few deep breaths.
His body was already coiled, the axe held sideways, ready to sever an ankle.
As the soft footsteps neared the woodpile, he held his breath completely.
The moment a pair of feet appeared in his vision, Matthew rolled out. His axe swung in a fluid arc, chopping straight through one of the men's shins.
"Ahhh... my leg!"
Duncan screamed, collapsing helplessly to the ground.
Haji's eyes went wide, his gaze following Matthew's movement.
Thud!
A pair of strong, powerful legs sprang straight, slamming Haji against the wall, his pant legs trembling from the impact.
Matthew puffed out his cheeks and immediately pushed off his legs.
In Haji's terrified gaze, Matthew leaped up. The axe came down again, smashing aside the thick arm raised to block it and burying itself into the side of the man's thick, short neck.
After the smooth slice, a dull thud followed.
Rotten-smelling wine sprayed all over Matthew's face.
It was disgusting, but undeniably satisfying.
Matthew followed up with a kick, knocking Haji over, and yanked the axe free.
A fountain of blood sprayed from the grey blade, coating Duncan's face.
Before Duncan could scream again, Matthew—eyes wide and teeth grit—swung the axe down onto his forehead.
He pulled the axe out. Chopped again.
He didn't stop until Duncan's already ugly, pockmarked face was a ruined mess.
Watching white brain matter flow onto the ground, Matthew panted heavily, gradually stopping his swings.
Feeling a sudden wave of nausea, he kicked the corpse aside and staggered forward.
There was still someone crawling on the ground.
Haji felt like he couldn't breathe, but he hadn't given up.
Matthew walked up to him, buried the axe into his spine, and then delivered a follow-up chop to the back of his neck.
Using the momentum, the axe sheared right through the thick, red neck, taking Haji's head clean off.
Haji's head spun on the ground for a few seconds before coming to a stop.
"Pah!"
Matthew spat a glob of bloody phlegm at the rolling head.
Now, he recognized them.
They were the two men he'd seen leaving the Black Market. They just weren't wearing masks now, but their clothes were identical.
Realizing this, Matthew quickly squatted down and started stripping them.
And what a find it was.
Several Gold Dragons rolled onto the ground with a pleasant clink-clank.
Matthew's eyes went straight. He scrambled to pick up the scattered gold and shoved it into his pocket.
After stripping one, he was even more interested in the other guy's belongings.
He went over to search the body, and sure enough—more Gold Dragons.
Matthew couldn't stop grinning.
"The mantis stalks the cicada, unaware of the oriole behind. You messed with the wrong guy. You deserved to die."
With that, while he still had the strength, he took a few calming breaths. Then, he dragged the bodies one by one to Stinkwater Bay and tossed them in.
Watching the corpses sink into the green, sludge-filled ditch, Matthew took the black cloth from around his neck and wiped his numb hands.
Once the disgusting blood was gone, he threw the cloth into the ditch, turned around, and smiled.
"Now, no one will find you even if they try."