Near the royal city of Alrasia, numerous grand estates dotted the surrounding countryside. These were homes built by wealthy merchants or retired adventurers who had "hung up their swords." These nouveau riche individuals, while lacking noble lineage, preferred to establish their residences near the capital, as if proximity to the aristocracy might lend them a touch of nobility.
One such estate belonged to Mr. Esis. Widely known as a tragic member of the nouveau riche, Esis had once owned a thriving business and a happy family in Einfast. However, a fateful accident had not only taken the lives of his family but also left him a disfigured cripple. Grieving and disheartened, he left his hometown, bringing all his wealth to settle here. Leveraging old connections from Einfast, he started trading in treasures, often selling what he claimed to be rare goods imported by friends. He also seemed to frequently do business with adventurers who sold him peculiar and valuable items.
Business had undoubtedly been booming recently for Mr. Esis. His estate had seen a constant flow of strangers, most of them looking like adventurers from their attire. Yet, true to his discreet style, the host never made a spectacle of entertaining his guests, as these types of people preferred avoiding attention.
In the secret underground of the estate.
Just as Esis's outwardly modest background concealed a darker reality, his estate's underground portion was far more expansive and complex than its surface. It could even rival the labyrinthine underground dwellings of the minotaurs in Nigen. With dozens of interconnected rooms and over a hundred corridors, it boasted over ten concealed exits to the surface, providing ample escape routes in case of emergencies. This was the largest hideout of the Shamusi Thieves' Guild, although not their only one—merely the most important.
The underground's largest chamber was currently filled to the brim, packed with over a hundred people. In the flickering light of tallow torches, these gathered figures were an assortment of rogues, mercenaries, and killers. Despite the crowd and the oppressive air of the enclosed space, there was an unusual quietness, with no loud chatter or disruptions. The reason was simple: the leader of the Shamusi Guild, Hilika, did not tolerate noise. There was once an unfortunate soul who raised his voice while Hilika was in a foul mood, only to have his head crushed like a melon.
Among the crowd were many new recruits, but even they remained utterly silent. Partly because they had heard of Hilika's temperament, and partly because the space was hosting one of the guild's infamous initiation rituals. Four large men were parading two grotesque figures through the crowd. These weren't mere objects—they were two men who barely resembled humans anymore.
The pair had been newcomers themselves, joining during the raid on Turaleone Forest. While retreating with captured elven prisoners, these two couldn't resist violating one of the female elves—an act Hilika had strictly forbidden. As per guild rules, their punishment was severe: every removable part of their bodies had been cut off, leaving only their mouths intact. Now, they were being paraded before every guild member, forced to recount their crimes and explain the punishment they were enduring.
The senior members chatted amongst themselves, clearly accustomed to such grim ceremonies. However, the newer recruits were visibly uneasy and shocked. Over the past month, the Shamusi Guild had seen a rapid increase in strength and numbers, with constant new arrivals swelling their ranks. This influx was not merely due to Hilika and Esis's recruitment efforts but also because several other major thief guilds in Alrasia had been annihilated, leaving survivors seeking refuge in Shamusi.
Amid the hushed conversations, one topic dominated: the lone knight who had single-handedly destroyed several thief guilds. And not just any knight—a female knight.
Details didn't need to be pried from the wind. The knight's radiant armor and the holy magic she wielded left no doubt—she was a temple knight dispatched by Celeste. Every guild's downfall followed the same pattern: a large-scale operation would be underway when she appeared, cutting through their ranks like a tiger in a flock of sheep, heading straight for the leader. The once-renowned bandit chiefs of Alrasia barely had time to resist before they were slain on the spot. After that, it became a massacre, with no mercy given to the fleeing bandits.
Naturally, some had attempted to resist the knight, but it was utterly futile. Empowered by divine magic and possessing combat skills of unparalleled mastery, the temple knight made dealing with these thieves seem not like a tiger among sheep but rather among chickens—effortless and overwhelming. Only those who surrendered immediately were spared, while barely one or two in ten managed to escape. The rest were slain on the spot.
When the thieves discussed her, there was none of their usual derision or crude humor reserved for women. Instead, they regarded her with the awe one might hold for a supernatural force, not even viewing her as "human." Had she not hailed from the Church of the God of Light, the comparison to a demon from the depths of hell would have been more fitting.
The knight operated alone, moving like the wind. Unlike large squads of soldiers, whose movements were obvious and predictable, her timing and location were impeccable, as if she always had prior intelligence. The mere title of "Celeste Temple Knight" was enough to sap the morale of most. Rumors claimed that if the temple knights and paladins of Celeste assembled, even a force of fewer than a hundred could conquer an entire nation.
Many of the newcomers to the Shamusi Thieves' Guild had joined with the intention of doing one last big job before retiring for good. Hilika had offered a generous bounty for recruits: several gold coins just for signing on, with promises of far greater rewards upon success. Among them, the long-time members of the guild had confidence in Hilika's leadership and the sheer number of people under his command.
Yet, no matter their motivations, the gathered crowd had been waiting for some time, and Hilika had yet to make an appearance.
In a separate underground room, Hilika and Esis were standing before eight individuals. They had little regard for the hundred-odd people waiting in the main chamber—if necessary, the eight in this room could eliminate that entire crowd of criminals in under ten minutes. These were the true elites Hilika needed for the plan.
The eight were a motley crew: a hunched, elderly man; a youthful, dashing young man; and a woman entirely cloaked in black, with only her mesmerizing eyes visible. What united them was their undeniable power. With their assistance, Hilika felt confident he could challenge even the kingdom's knightly order. These eight were the strongest operatives lurking in Alrasia's underworld and shadows.
"I need your skills. Name your price," Hilika said bluntly, the kind of directness merchants love in a customer.
"Prices matter only to the living. First, I need to know if your plan has any real chance of success," said the elderly man, his frail voice sounding like a rodent transformed by a polymorph spell. "You're not the first to covet the elves, but in hundreds of years, not a single blade of grass in Turaleone Forest has been lost. What makes you think we have a chance?"
"This," Esis said reverently, as if presenting a holy relic. He carefully unveiled three scrolls.
"What are these…?" The old man's squinted, rodent-like eyes widened dramatically, almost bulging like an ox's.
"As you all know," Esis began, "we recently captured five elves. And let me be honest: that was merely a test for this operation, using only a fraction of our strength. The reason for our success lies entirely in these scrolls, which dismantled the elves' magical barriers. This time, we are far better prepared and have three scrolls at our disposal. Surely, you can grasp their value. With careful planning and your assistance, success is all but guaranteed."
The old man's fingers lightly traced the scrolls in Esis's hands as he sighed enviously. Then, reverting to his shifty demeanor, he said lazily, "I want all the magical items from the elves."
"Impossible." Esis's eyes nearly popped out of his head. "If we give them all to you, what's left for us?"
"You'll still have plenty of elves, won't you? Besides, what can you do with so many magical items? You wouldn't dare sell them to the Church, would you?"
"How we deal with them is none of your concern. We can offer you three elven maidens instead," Esis countered quickly.
"At my age, I've lost interest in women. Don't try to placate me with such offers," the old man replied, yawning and unyielding. "I want the magical items."
"Fine. You can have everything dismantled from the teleportation magic circles. The rest stays with us," Hilika finally spoke, his deep voice grinding like iron rods scraping against each other. "I'll say this once. I don't negotiate."
At the mention of "teleportation magic circles," the old man's eyes gleamed, and he swallowed hard. After glancing at Hilika's face, he nodded reluctantly. "Deal."
Hilika turned his gaze to the second person. "What about you? Name your price."
"Thirty elven women," came the terse response from a wiry man in his thirties. Dressed in tight black clothing, he carried an S-shaped serrated blade on his back, its massive size and gleaming edge radiating a chilling aura even in the dim underground light.
"Ten," Hilika replied curtly.
"If a large number of elves flood the market, their value will plummet. We can't afford to give you more," Esis interjected quickly.
The man considered this for a moment before nodding. "Deal."
The next five individuals quickly negotiated their respective strange but astonishingly valuable terms. Then came the seventh person. He was a very handsome young man dressed simply and unremarkably, with a single longsword hanging at his waist. Judging by appearance alone, he seemed like just an ordinary, albeit good-looking, young man.
However, the fact that he was here meant he had sufficient reason. Everyone present had been carefully selected by Esis, whose judgment was rarely wrong. Hilika asked, "What do you want?"
"One thousand gold coins," the young man replied. "Half upfront."
He was the first to demand actual money. The others, understanding the immense risks and rewards of this operation, had requested conditions as immeasurable as the old man's. Besides, people like them usually didn't lack money, let alone care for it so much.
"Oh?" Hilika showed a rare expression of surprise—a human-like emotion almost never seen on his face. He noticed that the young man's eyes lacked the usual greedy sparkle when speaking of gold. That glint, while he didn't encounter it frequently, was something he could sense in anyone obsessed with wealth. He asked again, "Do you like money?"
"I didn't used to care much for it, but now I do because I need it," the young man replied, his tone indifferent.
"Good." Hilika revealed a menacing grin of appreciation. "I like people who are straightforward and love money."
The last person was an unremarkable-looking man with a face so ordinary it would disappear into a crowd. His age was hard to discern, likely between twenty and forty. His upright, lean physique, the absence of any body fat, and the weapon strapped to his back were the only clues to his extraordinary nature.
"What do you want?" Hilika asked.
"Let's see what you manage to acquire first," the man said, his tone so plain it carried no trace of malice or attention-grabbing quality. "Then I'll take half."
All eyes immediately turned to him, many filled with hostility. Such words and tone not only disrespected Hilika but also belittled the other seven present.
"Why?" Hilika let out a laugh that sounded like blades grinding against bones. His eyes, typically fierce, now gleamed with curiosity.
"Because I'm worth that much. More than all seven of them combined," the man answered calmly, his voice devoid of any emotion as he locked eyes with Hilika.
The expressions of the other seven immediately shifted. Some were blazing with anger, while others turned as cold as knives forged from ice.
"I know you're capable—you managed to fend off a scout squad from the Royal Knights. But let me tell you, everyone here can do that. Even though you were introduced by Esis's old friend, he didn't mention your name. So, you'll need to prove yourself," Hilika said, pointing a thick finger at the seven others one by one. "Show us why you're worth more than the seven of them combined."
The man in black with the serrated blade on his back suddenly sighed and said to Hilika, "Hiring someone this expensive? How about I kill him for you, and you save yourself the cost? Just give me five more elves."
"Of course," Hilika replied with a predatory smile. The man in black was one of Alrasia's most notorious and ruthless lone thieves over the past decade. More people had died by his hand than most people would see in a lifetime. He had once reduced three elite royal knights to minced flesh in a single encounter—perfect for testing the newcomer.
The black-clad man shook his hand, and the massive serrated blade was already in his grasp. The others quickly stepped aside, while the old man and Esis retreated to the doorway. Such a peculiar weapon was bound to be unpredictable and devastating, and no one wanted to risk being caught in its wake. Only Hilika remained unmoved.
With a low growl, the air in the underground chamber was instantly filled with the shriek of the serrated blade slicing through it. The black-clad man became a blur of dancing shadows, his weapon transforming into a dazzling ball of light. Shadows and radiance intertwined as they moved swiftly along an unpredictable trajectory.
"Shadow Dance…" the cloaked woman whispered in shock, crouching low. This technique, originally a legendary skill exclusive to dark elves, was now being used by a human—and a man at that. Moreover, adapting a weapon as peculiar as the serrated blade to complement the Shadow Dance meant it had been specially crafted for this purpose.
The black-clad man had vanished completely, leaving only a hazy shadow darting around the room with extraordinary speed. He hadn't underestimated his opponent by attacking directly; instead, he was pushing his Shadow Dance to its limits, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. Originally derived from ritual dances, the dark elves' movements were mystical and intricate, but the man's explosive power far exceeded that of an elven woman. He had honed his ability to blur his form and shift positions to perfection.
Standing by the doorway, Esis squinted hard, desperately trying to catch a glimpse of the man's movements.
The seemingly unremarkable man stood motionless, merely unsheathing the weapon strapped to his back. It was an ordinary blade, the kind any blacksmith could forge.
He raised his sword. Every movement was slow and deliberate, forming a stark contrast with the shadow that darted about the room at blinding speed.
The shadow moved faster and faster, until it seemed to fill the entire space, its blurred form rendering the room hazy. The serrated blade's shriek became piercingly sharp. The black-clad man's movements had reached their peak, and all that remained was to unleash a thunderous strike.
A single flash of the sword.
In that instant, the shadow-filled room fell silent. The swirling blur of motion and the shrieking of the serrated blade vanished. There was no sound of metal clashing, only the clean, decisive noise of a blade piercing flesh and severing bone, followed by a guttural, agonized scream.
Hilika's pupils contracted sharply. He had been standing just a short distance from the two combatants since the fight began. Even when the black-clad man, wielding the serrated blade, vaulted past him in a blur, Hilika remained still, unflinching as if he were a mountain of iron. Only now did an expression finally emerge on his face.
It wasn't just him. Every onlooker wore a similar expression—stunned, their eyes frozen on the same spot. They were all staring at the black-clad man's feet.
The black-clad man had abruptly halted, his form reverting from a blur to solid form. The sword in his opponent's hand had shot forward and pierced through his foot, pinning him in place. The two-foot-long blade had sunk completely into the man's foot and the stone floor beneath, leaving only the short hilt visible above his foot.
His body, caught by inertia, twisted half a turn around the pinned foot. The sound of his foot's bones shattering as they twisted under the pressure echoed even louder than his guttural screams of pain.
"Your dance was atrocious," the man remarked, shaking his head.
The black-clad man roared in anger, swinging his serrated blade into a whistling arc toward his opponent. The man simply brushed it aside with his hand, redirecting the blade's trajectory. Whether intentional or not, the redirected blade flew straight toward Hilika, who stood nearby.
Hilika made no attempt to dodge. He merely waved a hand. With a loud clang, the serrated blade rebounded off his arm and embedded itself into the stone wall. His arm, as thick as an average man's thigh, bore only a faint white mark from the impact.
No one paid him any attention, though. All eyes were fixed on the two figures in the center.
Throwing his weapon had been the black-clad man's last coherent action. Now, his entire body trembled uncontrollably, his mouth emitting garbled, nonsensical sounds. To those present, however, the sound was familiar—the involuntary gasping of a dying man suffering a mysterious, fatal injury. Yet, oddly, the black-clad man bore no visible mortal wounds. For a veteran of countless life-and-death battles, a pierced foot was no more than a scratch.
The man with the sword walked up to the fallen black-clad figure and bent down to retrieve his blade.
The moment the sword left the foot, the black-clad man collapsed. His fall was peculiar; the once-powerful, agile man, as swift as a leopard, now lay limp and powerless, like an empty sack of cloth. His body seemed to wither rapidly—skin and muscle losing their color and shape, deflating like a punctured balloon.
A low, ominous humming filled the room. The blade, now dark red, appeared to pulsate as if alive, the crimson hue shifting and flowing across its surface. The man slid the sword back into its sheath, and the eerie sound vanished instantly.
"A high-tier magical weapon…" Esis muttered from the doorway, his voice trembling.
"The legendary Vampire's Fang..." the old man added with a sigh. The others were too stunned to even speak.
"Well?" The man turned to Hilika, his expression calm. "Worth it?"
Hilika's pupils, now reduced to small, predatory dots, stared back—eyes of a beast. After a long pause, he uttered a single word:
"Worth it."