Five hours ago, Lobic Dilla, who had just turned forty - three, held the esteemed position of First - Class Alert Chief within the City Defense Force. He was at the helm of the Western City Alert Hall, shouldering the crucial responsibility of safeguarding the western expanse of Everstar City.
Under his command were twenty patrol teams, a veritable army of alert officers spread throughout the hall, and a vast array of civilian staff, all of whom awaited his every directive. There were over a hundred police officers, decked out in the latest riot - control gear: electric batons crackling with potential, mini - crossbows primed for action, anti - charge shields standing firm, and fog bombs and thunderstorm bombs at the ready. Nearly three hundred high - caliber soldiers were armed with fearsome demon - slaying swords, their blades glinting with menace, arc - light shields that seemed to hold back the very darkness, Yongxin armors offering impenetrable protection, and energy - breaking crossbow arrows designed to pierce through any obstacle. And let''s not forget the twenty End Swordsmen, the elite of the elite, leading the patrol teams with unrivaled skill and authority. All of this formidable force answered solely to Lobic.
For a man hailing from a lower - noble lineage—his father being nothing more than a humble lord in Kella County, nestled in the western reaches of the kingdom—this was an extraordinary feat. If not for his strategic alliance with the powerful Kevindill family, ascending to the rank of Western City Alert Chief in Everstar City, the beating heart of the kingdom, at such a relatively young age would have been an impossible dream. However, within this seemingly advantageous relationship, where he had sworn fealty to the Kevindill family in exchange for his lofty position, there lurked a rather significant drawback.
The patrol area under his jurisdiction in Everstar City was composed of six distinct districts. Three of them formed the Western Ring, while the other three made up the Lower City. And these were no ordinary districts. Oh no, they were the very epicenter of the ceaseless and brutal struggle between the Blood Flask Gang and the Black Street Brotherhood. A "minor inconvenience," one might say? Hardly. In truth, it was more like a curse that had befallen him. By the grace of the king, this was a stroke of misfortune so colossal that it threatened to swallow him whole.
Oh, and let''s not overlook the fact that he was also tasked with overseeing the patrols and maintaining street safety in front of the Western City Gate. This was a responsibility that came with its own set of unwritten rules, as imparted by his white - haired predecessor during the handover. His predecessor had warned him, "You must impress upon your men that even when leading a detachment from the barracks, making their way through the Western Ring District and the xc District en route to the Western City Gate (and mind you, my dear fellow, the Western City Gate was, in my view, the only place worthy of our patrol efforts, and the only location where our law - enforcement prowess was truly needed)—"
"For the sake of your financial well - being, when traversing the three districts of the Western Ring, be unfailingly polite and amicable. Keep your eyes averted from any minor transgressions.
For the sake of your very life, when passing through the three districts of the Lower City, be as vigilant as a hunted animal. Every step should be taken with the utmost caution.
For the sake of your hard - earned position, when arriving at the Western City Gate, be the very picture of diligence and energy. Let your presence command respect and instill confidence."
It didn''t take Lobic long to fathom the reasoning behind these words.
The Blood Flask Gang, firmly entrenched in the three districts of the Western Ring, had a history that stretched back for generations. Their roots ran deep, and their connections to the upper echelons of the court were as murky as the depths of an ancient swamp. They regularly greased the palms of the City Defense Force with substantial amounts of "tribute money." Thus, for the sake of their wallets, the police were expected to maintain a cordial and cooperative relationship with the denizens of the Western Ring. It was a delicate dance of turning a blind eye to certain activities while maintaining a semblance of law and order.
On the other hand, the Black Street Brotherhood, firmly ensconced in the Lower City, was a force to be reckoned with. They were ruthless, their actions driven by a madness that bordered on the demonic. Half of the unsolved criminal cases in the entire kingdom could be traced back to their shadowy operations. They had no qualms about taking on the authorities, and their reputation for violence preceded them. So, for the sake of their lives, when venturing into the xc District, the police had to be constantly on guard, their senses heightened, and their movements swift. It was a dangerous game, one where a single misstep could prove fatal.
The Western City Gate, on the other hand, was the face of Everstar City to the outside world. It was the gateway through which foreign dignitaries, nobles of all ranks, temple administrators, and adventurers from far - flung lands entered the city. This bustling thoroughfare was a hotbed of activity, rife with diplomatic intrigues, noble power struggles, religious rivalries, and civil unrest. It was also a place under the watchful eye of the most powerful figures in the court. Thus, for the sake of his position, when on duty at the Western City Gate, Lobic had to be the epitome of fairness, strictness, and dedication. He was to enforce the law with an iron fist, all in the name of serving the people.
In the three years since Chief Lobic had assumed command of the Alert Hall, the toll of his responsibilities had been evident. Half of his hair had turned a stark white, and three new wrinkles had etched themselves onto his forehead. His erratic work schedule meant that he often returned home at odd hours, much to the chagrin of his wife, who frequently expressed her displeasure by giving him the cold shoulder in their marital bed. It was a situation that was all too understandable, given the circumstances.
At this very moment, Lobic sat at his desk, his gaze fixed on the moonlit scene outside the window. A deep furrow creased his brow, a clear sign of his inner turmoil. He had no desire to be working overtime on this particular night, but a powerful figure had issued a directive, leaving him with no choice.
Moreover, his current source of anxiety was not the work itself, but rather the young and impetuous man standing before him.
Korn Karabyan, a mere twenty - five years old, had recently been promoted to the position of patrol team leader just two months prior. His combat skills were truly remarkable, standing out even among the ranks of the End Swordsmen. (If only he could manage to defeat that infuriatingly talented Miranda, he often mused.) His family background was respectable, though he often joked, "Alas, old man, if only your title were that of king. Then I could be a prince—ouch! Why''d you hit me?" He also boasted a military experience that was rare among young nobles. After his rather sudden discharge from the army (which he protested vehemently, exclaiming, "Damn old man! I never signed any discharge papers! You must have pulled some strings—ouch! Why''d you hit me again?"), he had quickly risen to become the top - performing ace of the twenty patrol teams in the Western City Alert Hall. ("They all say it''s because of my father, but you know better, old man. I''m just that good—hey, if you hit me again, I''m really going to lose my temper!")
At present, Korn stood before Lobic, his officer''s cap perched neatly on his head. A few strands of his lustrous blond hair peeked out from beneath the brim, adding to his already charming appearance. His blue meteor uniform, expertly tailored to fit his muscular yet well - proportioned frame, accentuated his physical prowess. His black marching boots, polished to a non - reflective sheen, completed the look, making him a veritable heartthrob. With his ruggedly handsome face, he was undoubtedly the talk of the town among the noble ladies of the capital.
Chief Lobic couldn''t help but indulge in a moment of wistful thinking. If only he were twenty years younger and had been transferred to Everstar City earlier, perhaps he too would have been the object of adoration for the fairer sex. Alas, those were but fleeting daydreams.
For the young and heroic Korn was in the midst of an impassioned speech, earnestly presenting his views to Chief Lobic. His hand thumped resolutely against his chest, as if to emphasize the depth of his conviction.
"Sir, in conclusion, I firmly believe that it is ill - advised to withdraw the garrison forces from Red Square Street, especially tonight. There is a high likelihood of a violent clash between the Blood Flask Gang and the Black Street Brotherhood. Additionally, I''ve received intelligence from my informants that the Black Street Brotherhood is congregating in front of their main headquarters—"
"You have informants in the Black Street?" Chief Lobic interrupted, yawning.
"Indeed, sir. It''s no easy feat to plant informants among those fanatics in the Brotherhood," Korn replied, scratching his head sheepishly and flashing a boyish grin. "But with my exceptional intelligence - gathering skills—"
"Fool! Are you out of your mind?"
Chief Lobic''s sudden outburst was like a thunderclap, shattering the calm. Miss Jora, the stunning red - haired secretary, who was passing by the door with a stack of documents in her arms, was so startled that she stumbled and dropped the papers.
"Do you think that just because you''re ranked third in the year - end assessment of first - class End Swordsmen, the Brotherhood won''t dare touch you? Do you think that just because you''re from the Karabyan family, the Blood Flask Gang will spare you? And most importantly! Do you think—"
Chief Lobic''s voice grew louder with each word, his anger palpable. Korn, who had been speaking so eloquently just moments ago, now stood dumbfounded, his mouth agape.
"—that just because you''re more handsome than me, you can dictate to your superior?"
Outside the door, Miss Jora, who was in the process of picking up the scattered documents, was so startled by this last comment that she dropped the papers she had just retrieved.
"Er—Chief, I think we''re getting a bit off - topic here. While I appreciate the compliment on my looks, the situation with the Brotherhood—"
"Silence! Fool!"
The enraged Lobic couldn''t help but think that perhaps there was a good reason why Korn''s father had taken to disciplining his son so frequently.
Lobic took a deep breath, attempting to regain his composure. "I understand your zeal, Korn. I too was once filled with youthful enthusiasm. When I first arrived here three years ago, I too harbored the lofty ambition of purging the xc District and the Western Ring District of all their evil and darkness. I dreamed of a day when the citizens could stroll the streets without a care in the world.
"But you must understand, the Blood Flask Gang and the Black Street Brotherhood are far from being simple, run - of - the - mill gangs. Do you really think that with twenty End Swordsmen, four hundred police officers, and patrol soldiers, we can simply wipe them out? The Blood Flask Gang boasts two magic energy masters, eight superpower warriors, and twelve supreme powerhouses. The Black Street Brotherhood has its three—perhaps four—deadly assassins, six powerful leaders, and thirteen formidable generals. Do you have any idea how many of these individuals are at the super - rank or even the extreme - realm level? And let''s not forget their vast network of thugs, thieves, rangers, and adventurers that spans the entire kingdom. Their intelligence network is all - encompassing, their relationship network is deeply ingrained, their business network is extensive, their interest network is far - reaching, and their secret network is of utmost importance. Do you think they''re just sitting idly by? Do you think this is a battle against the wild bone people and the Orc on the Western Front? Do you think my police officers and city defense soldiers are expendable, with no families, no children, no social ties, and no concerns? Do you think they''ll rush into danger at your beck and call?"
"Even if we were to somehow eliminate these two major gangs, what then? What about the sordid secrets of the nobles that are entangled with them? What about the financial benefits and government appropriations that certain administrative departments rely on, which are propped up by the threat of these gangs? What about the annual tributes they pay to the powerful figures in the court? What about the poor, the rioters, and the unemployed who lose their means of livelihood without the gangs'' control and protection? What about the people who stop going to the temples to pray and donate without the gangs'' oppressive presence? What about the rare medicines and strategic materials in the city''s medicine market, alchemy market, and agricultural and animal husbandry market that are only available through the gangs'' smuggling operations? What about the adventurers, mercenaries, and superpower warriors who are left without a source of income and are eager to cause trouble? What about the inability of the Kingdom''s Secret Department to monitor the underground activities of foreign spies without the cooperation of the local gangs, both overt and covert?"
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"Have you ever truly considered all these multifarious and crucial matters?" Lobic''s voice, a blend of exasperation and weariness, filled the room. "Do you have any inkling as to why I''ve cleared Red Square Street tonight? A high - ranking figure directly informed me. Tonight, it will transform into the most blood - soaked battlefield. Anyone who ventures near will meet a disastrous end. That''s precisely why I''ve not only emptied the area but also posted a curfew notice, warning everyone to stay away at all costs. And do you know why we''re toiling away with this overtime? So that come morning, our forces can collaborate with the medical, fire, and land administration departments of the town hall. We''ll be tasked with collecting the bodies of those slain in the impending conflict and cleaning up the ruins left in its wake."
Lobic ceased his tirade, gasping for air as he tugged at his collar, which seemed to constrict his throat. Korn, once so full of passionate argument, now stood in stony silence. His fists, balled tightly at his sides, betrayed the inner turmoil raging within him.
"Now, Captain Korn Karabyan," Lobic resumed, his tone having softened somewhat, though still firm. "You may leave. Take this time to reflect deeply. Ponder why your father dispatched you to the most challenging alert hall in the entire Star Kingdom, nay, across the Western Continent. And don''t forget to assist Miss Jora, who''s outside the door, in gathering up that scattered stack of documents. After all, this chaos is a direct result of your actions."
The door creaked open, and Korn stepped out slowly. His once - bright eyes now dimmed, clouded with a sense of desolation and resignation. Miss Jora, who was on her knees, attempting to retrieve the fallen papers, couldn''t help but feel a pang of sympathy for the young captain.
I''m well - aware of all these things Chief Lobic has spoken of, Korn mused silently. His hand instinctively reached out towards the sword rack positioned outside the chief''s office, yearning to grasp the hilt of his sword. But as he considered the situation, a sense of hopelessness washed over him. If even the youngest and most ostensibly progressive alert chief was so mired in political expediency, and if the underworld gangs, with their blood - stained hands, were too formidable to confront head - on, then how could this kingdom ever hope to change? With a heavy heart, Korn let his hand drop.
He approached Miss Jora, who was still occupied with the scattered documents. The secretary, acutely aware of Korn''s proximity, felt a flush creeping up her cheeks. She was at a loss, trying to decide how to express her gratitude for his impending assistance.
Zeal? Korn inwardly scoffed. By the time I crawled out of the mounds of corpses on the Western Front, that emotion had long since deserted me. This isn''t about youthful enthusiasm. Lowering his head, Korn clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white. Determination and a smoldering anger burned in his eyes. This is about doing what is right, what must be done, regardless of the cost.
Miss Jora''s blush deepened. In that moment, she realized that from Korn''s vantage point, he had an unobstructed view of the alluring curves hidden beneath her professional uniform. And, she couldn''t help but think, with a hint of giddiness, he''s so incredibly handsome. It''s almost unfair.
Red Square Street? Korn''s eyes narrowed, a cold glint in them. The next instant, his expression hardened into a mask of ice. Without so much as a glance, his right - hand fist abruptly flipped. A powerful gust of wind, as if conjured from thin air, swept through the area in front of the chief''s office door.
"Whoosh!"
When the tempest of wind finally subsided, Korn was nowhere to be seen. Gone, too, was the sword that had once rested on the sword rack. Only Miss Jora remained, seething with frustration. She tugged angrily at her red hair, which had been thoroughly disheveled by the sudden gust. To her astonishment, the scattered stack of documents, which had been strewn haphazardly moments ago, now lay neatly piled on the ground, as if arranged by an invisible hand.
――――――――――――――――――
Inside the chief''s office, Lobic let out a weary sigh, his eyes closing in resignation. Compared to the situation on Red Square Street, the request from that influential figure was proving to be far more vexing. He was tasked with discerning, from the Sunset Believers passing through the Western City Gate, the true reason behind the Sunset Temple''s decision to seal off its inner altar.
Those religious fanatics, Lobic thought, shaking his head in dismay. How could I possibly involve myself in matters related to the divine oracle? Especially when it comes to that irascible Sunset Goddess. He spat out a few curses under his breath, as if trying to expel the very thought from his mind. If it were three hundred years ago, merely entertaining such thoughts would have landed me in the Inquisition, at the mercy of the temple priests.
Viewed in that light, perhaps the two Magic Empresses, despite their notoriously foul tempers, had actually accomplished some good deeds. Another series of muttered curses followed this thought. After all, a hundred years ago, a similar musing would have seen me thrown into the Magic Might Prison by the Empress'' Imperial Magic Guards.
―――――――――――――――――――
Back in the present, Yara stared at Thales in utter disbelief, her eyes wide with shock. "You claim that you killed Quaid?" she asked, her voice laced with incredulity, as if she were struggling to comprehend the words that had just left Thales'' lips.
"Yes, and," Thales replied, his voice steady and resolute. He fixed his gaze on Yara, a young woman both alluring and dangerous. "I implore you to help the four of us escape from the three districts of the Lower City."
Thales wasn''t taking a wild gamble. During his four - year sojourn as a beggar in the ruined house, his world hadn''t been entirely devoid of light. Amidst the darkness, there were glimmers of warmth. The children in the same abode, who had shared his hardships and offered mutual support, were one source. Jenny, the kind - hearted helper at Grove Apothecary, was another. And then there was Yara, this enigmatic female bartender. Despite her initial air of aloofness, Thales sensed a hidden kindness within her. Three years prior, she had saved his life. Had it not been for her intervention, he would have fallen prey to the fierce wolfhound that Morris had kept. Morris had ranted and raved for days about how the dog, which he had raised for six long years, had inexplicably vanished.
"Repeat that?" Yara''s voice was sharp, as if she had just heard the most preposterous claim imaginable. "You''ve just slain the son of Shandara Rhoda, the ''Iron - Hearted'' arms boss of the Black Street Brotherhood. Quaid Rhoda, who oversaw the Brotherhood''s beggar operations in Everstar City. He was the most feared figure in the underworld of the Star Kingdom. And now, you expect me to shield you, to betray the very organization I''m a part of, and to help you elude the inevitable manhunt and pursuit of the Black Street Brotherhood?"
"Not exactly," Thales responded, rubbing the spot on his forehead where Yara had poked him. He offered a sheepish smile, attempting to defuse the tension. "But, essentially, yes."
Yara was silent for a long moment, processing this bombshell. Thales, though impatient, knew he had to wait. Finally, Yara let out a sigh, her expression hardening once more into its customary mask of cold indifference.
"Hmph, do you really think I''d pit myself against the entire Brotherhood for your sake? Do I strike you as some naive do - gooder? Or, more precisely, do I look like someone who would risk everything for a bunch of street urchins?"
"You won''t have to engage with the Brotherhood directly," Thales pleaded, his voice urgent. "We''ve devised our own escape plan. All we need from you is some food, essential supplies, and your help in concealing us from the Brotherhood''s watchful eyes as we make our way from the Lower City to Red Square Street. Given your connections and resources, this should be a simple task for you."
"Please," Thales added, his voice thick with emotion. "You''re our only hope, Sister Yara. We have no one else to turn to."
But Yara remained unmoved. "Hmph, you''re nothing but a lowly beggar," she sneered. "I''m affiliated with the Brotherhood, in some capacity. What makes you think I won''t promptly hand you, the murderer of a Brotherhood leader, and your accomplices over to them?"
Thales fell silent, his mind racing. Yara, her head slightly turned, regarded him with a mocking half - smile, waiting for his response.
"Because I trust you," Thales finally said, his voice soft yet filled with conviction.
Yara was taken aback, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "What?"
"Because I believe in you, and I know you want to be a good person," Thales repeated, enunciating each word clearly.
Yara was dumbfounded. She felt as if she had stepped into a strange, alternate reality. This was not the response she had expected. Such a naive, almost childlike sentiment, coming from someone who had endured the harsh realities of life in the Brotherhood and the beggar dens. It was as if he had been influenced by some fantastical tales, perhaps from the plays at the Nether Night Temple. The story of the friendship between Hero Sara and Prophet Kaipeng, perhaps? Or had Quaid''s brutal beating addled his brain?
Thales took a deep breath, steeling himself. "I''m well - aware that the Brotherhood is rife with scum and villains. They''re bloodthirsty monsters, wearing human skins. Sympathy, kindness, conscience - these are alien concepts to them. They traffic in human misery, selling destitute girls into the brothels, maiming innocent children, peddling drugs to naive teenagers, extorting hard - working merchants until they''re penniless, driving desperate farmers to starvation, and enslaving those unable to pay their debts. They collude with degenerate nobles in the most heinous and unspeakable schemes."
"But I also understand that many within the Brotherhood are trapped by circumstances. They''re forced into a life of crime by poverty, by the cruel realities of the world. They''ve been indoctrinated from a young age, ensnared in a web of violence and corruption, with no means of escape. They act out of necessity, believing they have no other choice."
"Yet, despite these harsh circumstances, I believe that if someone can still hold onto a glimmer of compassion, a spark of kindness, a shred of conscience, and choose to do good, it''s an act of true heroism. You, Yara, have shown me that side of you. You could have chosen the easy path, using your formidable sword skills to earn a fortune through illegal means. But instead, you''ve offered kindness in small ways. You''ve given a free drink to a down - on - his - luck drunkard, provided a cloak to a battered prostitute, and, three years ago, you risked incurring Morris'' wrath to save my life. And in the years since, you''ve continued to support me, in your own way."
Yara''s brows knitted together, and she unconsciously bit her lower lip. Thales'' words were hitting a nerve, dredging up memories she had long since tried to bury.
Thales looked up, his eyes locking onto Yara''s. "To do these things, to resist the allure of easy, immoral wealth and instead choose the path of kindness, is far more difficult, more dangerous, and more - "
"Stop!" Yara''s voice was sharp, cutting through the air. Her eyes were red, and her expression was a mix of anger and something else, something she couldn''t quite put into words. "You''re not even family to me. How dare you - "
But Thales cut her off, his voice unwavering. "Yara Sariton! I''ve witnessed your incredible swordsmanship. I''ve seen you dispatch a dog with a single, swift strike, and I''ve watched as you dealt with troublemakers, severing their fingers without hesitation. I know that the regulars at the Sunset Bar cower in fear at the mere sight of you. Even Quaid, Rick, and Morris - they treat you with a healthy dose of respect. I''ve seen how they acquiesce when you negotiate lower purchase prices. I may not know the full significance of the Sariton surname within the Brotherhood, but I suspect your past is steeped in blood. Perhaps your family, your kin, are all deeply entrenched in the Brotherhood''s criminal activities."
Yara remained silent, her face a mask of resignation. Thales'' words were uncomfortably close to the truth, dredging up memories she had long tried to suppress.
"So, truthfully, I''m not certain if you''re a good person or not," Thales continued. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a dagger. "I stole this from your bar. But I know that the day I casually mentioned not having a knife to chop firewood, this very dagger mysteriously appeared in the most conspicuous spot in the utility room that afternoon. I''ve always been aware of your silent kindness."
"Until today, I thought this dagger might have been left behind by someone else, perhaps Edmund. But when it was stained with blood, the letters ''jc'' emerged on the blade. I realize now that these are the initials of your name. I heard your full name from Quaid''s lips just today."
Yara''s jaw tightened. She was so caught up in the moment that she didn''t even question how a street - smart beggar, with no formal education, could read and decipher the letters on the dagger.
"Yara Sariton, Miss jc, I need you to know that this dagger, a symbol of your kindness, saved my life today. And it saved the lives of those three children over there, who consider a simple loaf of white bread to be a veritable feast fit for a king."
Yara''s fists clenched, her eyes blazing with a mixture of emotions. This damned child, she thought. He sees far more than he should.
"So, while I''m uncertain of your past or your future, I''m convinced that - "
" - you have the potential to be a good person. jc."