The sun began its descent, staining the rooftops of the capital a blood orange. I walked alongside the girl who called herself Satella, though my previous knowledge screamed the name Emilia with every step we took.
The beauty of the main streets began to fade as we moved away from the commercial center. The polished marble gave way to worn stone, and the elegance of the city began to fragment in the shadows of the alleys. She kept a prudent distance, her amethyst eyes scanning the crowd with a mix of urgency and a nobility that seemed out of place in these streets. The spirit cat, Puck, floated over her shoulder, watching me with a curiosity that I returned with a calculated indifference. I wasn't a fan in front of his idol; I was a man evaluating the situation with a necessary coldness.
"You seem very sure of where we're going," she said, her voice still like silver chimes, but loaded with a legitimate suspicion. "The slums aren't a place someone like you would visit for pleasure."
"Nobody visits the Slums for pleasure," I replied, keeping a relaxed tone to avoid startling her. "But if someone wants to disappear with something valuable, this is the first place they'd go. The girl you saw is fast and knows the terrain. If we don't move now, the insignia will enter the black market and you'll lose it forever."
Emilia remained silent. I could feel her internal conflict. To her, I was a stranger who had just beaten up three men in an alley and was now leading her into the rot of the city. To me, she was the central axis of this story, and my task was to ensure her safety.
As we walked, I performed what my mind processed as a silent evaluation of my resources.
[Authority Shop: Accessing...]
The blue window expanded in my peripheral vision. The catalog was overwhelming, filled with skills locked by level requirements or essence I didn't yet possess. However, with my current 60 points, I had interesting options.
* [Skill: Hostility Detection (Passive)] - Cost: 40 Essence.* [Upgrade: Minor Physical Reinforcement (Active)] - Cost: 30 Essence.* [Item: Grade E Stamina Potion] - Cost: 10 Essence.
I evaluated the variables. Elsa Granhiert wouldn't be long in appearing. Her attacks were fast, lethal, and aimed at the bowels. The brute force I used against the thugs wouldn't be enough against the "Bowel Hunter." I needed reaction speed and a way to anticipate danger.
[Purchase Confirmed: Hostility Detection (Passive)][Remaining Essence: 20]
A brief chill ran down my spine. It wasn't painful, but as if my senses sharpened all at once. Suddenly, the bustle of the city became legible. I could feel the contempt of a nearby merchant, the envy of a beggar, and the indifference of the guard. It was an avalanche of sensations that my mind began to process with amazing clarity.
"Is something happening to you?" Emilia asked, noticing my brief pause.
"Just thinking about the path," I lied naturally.
The landscape changed drastically. Marble and polished stone gave way to rotting wood and dry mud. The air, once fresh, now weighed heavy with the smell of humidity, waste, and despair. We had entered the Slums.
Here, "Hostility Detection" became a constant alarm. There were eyes watching us from every crack in the shanties. Extreme poverty mixed with the latent violence of those who have nothing to lose. Emilia shrank slightly, her white cloak standing out like a beacon of purity in a sea of filth. A warning sign for any predator.
"Stay close," I told her, without looking at her. "In this place, the appearance of weakness is an invitation to disaster."
"I am not weak," she retorted, a trace of pride appearing in her voice.
"I didn't say you were. I said that here, appearances matter more than reality."
We reached a structure that stood out for its solidity among the ruins: the Loot Cellar. A dark stone building with a reinforced wooden door that seemed to have resisted more than one assault attempt. My memory of this world activated: Old Man Rom's domain.
I stopped in front of the door, my hand briefly brushing the frame. I felt a vibration. My new passive skill didn't detect direct hostility from the inside, but a contained tension.
"It's here," I announced.
"How can you be so sure?" Puck asked, with his small paws crossed.
"Instinct," I replied with a lopsided smile. "Every place has a corner where the city hides what it doesn't want to see. This is the heart of Lugnica's misery."
I pushed the door. The creak of the rusted hinges was an announcement of our arrival. The interior was a cavern of lost treasures and accumulated junk. Wooden beams crossed the ceiling, supporting shelves full of knick-knacks of all kinds. At the back, a gigantic counter where a man of colossal proportions watched us.
Old Man Rom. A giant who seemed to have been carved from the same rock as the warehouse. His eyes were small but sharp, and his presence filled the room with an intimidating calm.
"We're looking for something that was brought recently," I locked my gaze on the giant, ignoring the shadows moving in the corners. "A metal insignia. The royal emblem."
The atmosphere in the warehouse changed instantly. The temperature seemed to drop several degrees. From a dark corner, a small, agile figure jumped onto a pile of boxes. Felt. The blonde thief looked at us with an expression of triumph that vanished upon recognizing me.
"You... the one from the alley," she said, her fangs showing. "You're fast to have found this place."
"The trail isn't that hard to follow, Felt," I replied, using her name to destabilize her. "We have a deal to propose, before someone else shows up to close theirs."
Felt stepped back, surprised that I knew her name. Old Man Rom rested his huge hand on a wooden club that lay beside him.
"You come with a candidate for the selection," Rom's voice was like the rolling of stones. "That complicates things. We already have a buyer interested in that trinket."
At that moment, my [Hostility Detection] exploded. It wasn't coming from Felt, nor from Rom. It was coming from the back door, a shadow materializing with an elegance that was obscene in this environment.
Black hair, dark violet eyes that shone with an insatiable bloodlust, and a cloak that seemed made of the night itself. Elsa Granhiert.
"My... it seems the meeting has become much more lively than expected," Elsa said, her voice a seductive whisper that hid death. "I was waiting for the owner of the insignia to show up, but I didn't expect to find such an... interesting face."
Her eyes fixed on me. I could feel her gaze scanning my body, looking for the exact spot where her blades would enter best. My stomach churned, not out of fear, but from the biological response to an S-rank predator.
"You're late, Elsa," I said, keeping my calm despite the tension suffocating the room.
Emilia moved into a guard position, particles of frost beginning to dance around her hands. Conflict was inevitable. The original script said I should die here.
But I wasn't the original Subaru. I was the variable no one expected, and I had no intention of letting this day end with blood on the floor.
"Get ready," I whispered to Emilia. "This isn't going to be a negotiation. It's going to be an execution. And we won't be the victims."