Chapter 43 - 43. Idiot

"You fucking idiot." A slap echoed through the room.

"Ow, what was that for?" A younger voice responded.

"How much did you spill?" The original voice asked.

"Just a little bit. Maybe half a bag?" The younger voice replied sheepishly.

"Half a bag? Are you fucking kidding me? Who even decided you should be here; fucking waste of my time is what you are." The older voice was annoyed but didn't sound angry.

I signaled.

"I swear, kids these d—" the voice cut off with a bloodcurdling gasp. Then there was quiet.

I stood up and walked out from behind the boxes. Two bodies lay on the floor, blood gushing out. One was a young man, barely an adult. The other was a gruff fat man, powerfully built, with a cigar still in his mouth.

"Charly, clean this up. Join as at the front when you're done." I said to the people behind me.

Two people immediately went to check each body. They only needed to get information before burning the bodies.

I moved towards the staircase in the corner of the room. As I went up the steps, I paused for a moment.

"Be careful with the product." I turned around to look at the team remaining near the bodies. "We still need around half."

Seeing that they understood, I continued up the stairs.

"Alpha, go left, and Beta, go right. We're going loud, so be ready. Vera, you're in charge. We're using position F." I briefed the people behind me as we approached the door.

I slowly turned the doorknob, careful to minimize noise. I opened the door ajar, peering through the crack. Sure enough, a ton more people were on this floor.

As I spread out my mana sense, I got a layout of the room. I'd memorized it before the mission, but this was just to be sure.

Confirming the layout, I kicked down the door, sprinting in the middle. I deployed my flashbang spell, confusing the enemies momentarily. My troops, on the other hand, were prepared and took advantage of the situation.

In a few short seconds, the light and smoke cleared up. I stood in the middle of the room, waiting for a report.

"All hostiles neutralized, captain," Vera reported. I'd taken her on to the team a while ago but couldn't help but be surprised at her effectiveness.

"Good. Clear the area and dispose of the waste. Make sure you gather everything." I ordered.

I walked to the front door and exited into the bright sun. It was a big difference from the dimly lit warehouse. My eyes didn't need to adjust. That was a design flaw I'd learned from.

I was now, what, 19? Surreal. Still a teen, though.

I stared into the sun as I contemplated my life. What was my life? I had many achievements, but none had ever fulfilled me. None had even driven away the dreams.

'This is why I have to keep busy. A single second off and I'm already starting on my mid-life crisis.'

I sighed, the first real emotion I had in months. I was sure I had emotions, but sometimes, everything felt like a dream. Life was a game, and I was a playable character.

"Everything alright captain?" Vera broke me out of my thoughts.

"Ah, it's nothing. So, that's the last of the them?" I asked.

"Yep, the three cities of the north wholly belong to us now," Vera responded.

Umpedes, Teka, and Anbula were the three northernmost cities of the Daitya Empire. Controlling them means we controlled the entire northern border. All were well-defended cities, filled to the brim with gangs.

We'd single-handedly cleared them all out in a little over a year. From motorcycle gangs to drug and human traffickers, we dealt with them all.

Sometimes, we force them to disband or move out of our turf for the smaller gangs. They weren't doing much harm and were a hangout group. The businesses, on the other hand, had no mercy from us.

It was surprising how far the trafficking went. Everyone was sold, from people of all races to even their race of daemons. After we freed those people, the non-daemons would go to Greyhound while the rest could choose to go free or with them.

Greyhound had broken through 2,000 people just a couple of weeks ago, which was constantly increasing.

The Greyhound Player's Guild was a household name by now and dragged in a lot of revenue. Of course, we also filtered our underworld dealings through it, but it was still a large sum.

That money helped support Greyhound and all the people in the empire who worked for us. Over 100 craftsmen, 100 warriors, and some 50 ambassadors had the authority to come to Greyhound.

Our underworld dealings were also going well. We controlled the drug trade, the slave trade, and weapons. Drugs are sold carefully to only those that can't live without them, the already junkies.

Any enslaved people we acquire are set free in town or at Greyhound. The weapons are not only closely monitored but also tracked. We wouldn't want our guns held against us.

Of course, I didn't create literal guns. That would be too dangerous, but even the regular weapons had safeguards. Each was a mini bomb that I could detonate with a thought. It was new magic I had created for this specifically.

Yet, all this success felt like it only led to more work. Somedays, I hardly found the energy to get out of bed.