Torr stood across from Bran, his expression strained as he realized the extent of his predicament. His voice was firm but tinged with desperation.
Torr: "I am ready to deal with you."
Bran grinned, concealing his true intentions beneath a practiced mask. Inside, he was already laughing at Torr's gullibility, as though the entire scene was a show for his own amusement.
Bran (thinking): "It's so easy to fool these merchants. Capital's filled with Royal Knights, so we can't pull this stuff over there. But here... here, we run the show."
Watching Torr shift uncomfortably, Bran's grin widened as he relished the power imbalance, the manipulation.
Bran: "Well, whatever it is, I've scared him well enough... And I'll meet with Eli tonight. Wonder if I can squeeze anything more out of this deal."
Unseen in the shadows, Adam caught every word and even sensed Bran's thoughts. He clenched his fists, his expression unreadable as he pieced things together.
Adam (thinking): "So, scaring Torr was just a front. This organization doesn't have much pull outside River City. At least the Capital is free from their clutches... but why he after me?"
Bran turned back to Torr with a sneer.
Bran: "It's too late now. I'll take the goods for free, or the deal's off."
His voice was dripping with venom, his intent to corner Torr as clear as daylight.
Torr's eyes flashed with anger, but he hesitated, knowing the weight Bran held over him.
Torr: "This is oppression! I'll report you to the noble family, and you—"
Before Torr could finish, Bran's fist came down with brute force, sending Torr stumbling backward. The impact left him reeling.
Bran: "Huh? What did you say? Are you so eager to throw your life away?"
He grabbed Torr by the hair, yanking his head up to meet his gaze. Bran's eyes gleamed with malice, his voice dropping to a low whisper.
Bran: "Let me tell you a little secret, Torr. We're backed by one of the noble families. Think about that for a moment. How else would we be this untouchable?"
Bran chuckled, enjoying the look of dawning horror in Torr's eyes.
Bran: "It's the noble family that pulls us out of jail. They stop the city guards from meddling in our business."
Torr's face fell, his last spark of defiance extinguished as Bran's laughter echoed around them.
Bran: "Guess which family it is. Choose wrong, Torr, and it'll be the last choice you ever make."
With a final sneer, Bran let go of Torr, who collapsed back, staring blankly at the floor as his only hope shattered around him.
Bran leaned in close one last time, his tone as mocking as ever.
Bran: "You've got two days, Torr. Pack up and get out with your family... or you can always take the easier route and end things for good. Much cleaner."
He spun on his heel, leaving the warehouse with a smug grin, fully satisfied. Watching from the shadows, Adam's expression darkened as he processed what he'd heard.
Adam (thinking): "One of the two noble families... they're propping up these thugs and criminals. This is far worse than I'd thought."
As Bran disappeared into the street, Adam waited a moment before activating his skill. With a quiet whisper, he called forth the ability that would allow him to roam unnoticed.
[Host Skill Active: Mask]
Adam's features shifted, morphing into a wiry man with a slight sneer, his clothing transformed into ragged attire fit for a thug, and a dull dagger appeared tucked under his sleeve. To anyone passing by, he looked nothing like himself.
Adam (thinking): "Perfect. Now I can move through the city without drawing suspicion."
He exited the warehouse through a back alley, blending seamlessly with the flow of people moving in and out of the marketplace. A short walk brought him to the edge of the Warehouse Market, and from there, he made his way toward the bustling Craft Row Market.
Craft Row Market lay not far from Robert's restaurant. The market was lively, filled with vendors and shops lining the streets, each specializing in artisanal crafts. Leatherworkers, potters, and woodcarvers displayed their wares for anyone willing to pay.
Adam slipped through the crowd, observing the hustle around him.
Rows of shops crowded both sides of the cobbled street. The air was filled with the scent of leather and wood shavings, as artisans shaped, hammered, and dyed their creations. The cheerful calls of merchants selling goods stood in stark contrast to the darker dealings he'd just witnessed. For now, Adam stayed vigilant, noting every detail as he moved deeper into the heart of River City's underworld.
The street was thick with the smell of sawdust and dye, a blend so strong that it felt like part of the district's identity.
Adam took in the scent as he walked, each step revealing the handiwork of skilled craftsmen who were busy inside their shops.
Customers waited as artisans brought their custom orders to life, shaping, carving, and crafting by hand.
"There are some really good handmade tools here, if I compare them to Earth," Adam murmured to himself, observing the meticulous skill involved. He watched for a while longer before deciding to move on, making his way toward District Four.
Located beside the western edge of the city, District Four was the most densely populated area, bustling with residents at all hours. Adam navigated deeper, reaching a deserted street where the atmosphere abruptly changed—quiet, shadowed by empty houses and abandoned warehouses.
The hollowed-out buildings and lack of people hinted at something else: a sanctuary for the city's more dangerous residents.
Adam felt a prickling sensation as he scanned his surroundings. "Seems like a prime spot for thugs to hole up," he thought, activating his God's Eye skill. His vision sharpened, revealing hidden figures within the empty homes: two or three people lying low in each house, or small groups huddled together playing games, their laughter muffled by walls.
As he continued further, a worn-down tavern came into view, tucked into the corner of a shadowed street. Dim and secluded, it looked barely functional, the kind of place one wouldn't stumble upon by accident.
Inside the tavern, the atmosphere was thick with tension. Adam slipped in without drawing attention, his movements silent and precise. There were more thugs here than he'd seen in any other hideout, scattered across the floor, some at tables with drinks, others murmuring in hushed tones.
Adam's eyes narrowed as he observed the second floor. The men up there seemed different—sharper, with an aura of controlled magical energy. They weren't ordinary street thugs.
"This has to be where the leader hangs out," he thought, making his way swiftly up the staircase.
Once outside the target room, Adam carefully cracked open a window, positioning himself to listen in on the conversation inside. God's Eye remained active, helping him gauge the power and number of individuals inside.
The dimly lit room held a large, worn table, and scattered across its surface were numerous photographs. Beneath each photo lay personal information—addresses, family details, connections. The men seated around the table spoke in clipped tones, all intent on the matter at hand.
"This list came from the ground network," one thug stated, tapping his fingers on the table. "These are the people who still haven't paid their protection fees this week."
Another man scoffed, his expression hard. "The boss wants us to make examples out of these folks. Once we do, the rest will fall in line and start paying up without question."
A third thug chuckled, his voice laced with contempt. "Consider it done. Who would dare stand against us here? The city guards?" He laughed. "They're nothing but incompetent fools right now."
The rest of the thugs nodded, a grim agreement passing through them like a silent wave.