Happy New Year, everyone!
AN: Sorry I couldn't post yesterday; my family and I were busy preparing for New Year's.
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"We want to kill you, so what's the point of asking? Unless, of course, you'd accept our permission first," the leader said calmly.
He then shook his head. "We thought it would be easy since you're newcomers, but we never expected you to be this strong. That was my mistake. I accept my defeat and will gladly offer my life. However, I have a favor to ask. My men weren't entirely at fault—they were following my orders. Most of them have families. If you spare them, I'll gladly provide more information."
The leader's voice was steady and sincere. Even in defeat, he remained composed, as if nothing could shake his resolve. His lackeys, however, reacted differently.
"Boss, don't leave us!" one cried.
"If you're going to kill him, kill me too!" another shouted.
Light hesitated, unsure how to respond. Initially, he'd intended to kill the leader. But a new idea began to form in his mind. Perhaps this man could serve as their guide in this unfamiliar city. After all, having an intelligent man willingly show them around was far better than talking to rats. No, no—he wasn't complaining about rats. Rats were friends. Rats were good.
"Killing you would be a waste. However, I have a new idea. Since you've surrendered yourself..." Light lightly slashed his wrist, letting blood seep out. He turned to meet the leader's gaze, then glanced at his men. "How about you become my follower?"
The leader froze, hesitation forming in his mind. He detested the thought of being someone's servant. Yet, as he weighed the hardships ahead against his ultimate goal, he slowly nodded. "My life became yours the moment you defeated me. But if your orders go against my will, I won't follow them."
"Don't worry about that... I treat my followers with proper care." A smile spread across Light's sharp face, a smile that sent an involuntary shudder through the leader and his lackeys.
After drinking Light's blood, the leader and his men began guiding them through the city. Light, still wary of their loyalty, ensured they drank his blood to safeguard against betrayal. Should they turn on him, their lives would end slowly and painfully—a consequence he would provide.
As time passed, Light and his group learned more about Troy's story. He was a Brazunite, born and raised in the city of Brazun. Those born here were known as Brazunites, while those from the Deep Levels were often referred to as Gloomers.
Troy's purpose in life changed when his daughter was born. She had always been curious about the world beyond the city's oppressive walls. Her dream was to see the deep blue sky, the vast ocean, and the bright orange sun—not just the dull greenish glow of the city and its endless rocks.
Her dreams inspired Troy to seek a way out—a freedom he had never considered before. But everything changed when his daughter passed away. It was then that his search for freedom became a mission, fueled by grief and determination. Eventually, Troy encountered a group of people who claimed to know a way out.
"Do you know their name? Their organization?" Light asked, his curiosity piqued.
Troy paused for a moment, then shook his head.
"You don't know?" Light pressed.
"It's not that I don't know. I know exactly who they are, but I can't give you their name. I'm under a curse."
Troy glanced to the side, hesitating. After a moment, he added, "Of course, I could tell you their name—if you choose to kill me."
"So, the curse will kill you if you mention their name? Sounds like something from a cult," Light mused, clasping his hands behind his back as the Ratkin followed closely behind him. He glanced at Troy and asked, "That prosthetic arm of yours—how does it work? Did you make it?"
One of the reasons Light had decided to spare Troy was his curiosity about the arm. It was a mechanical marvel, a fusion of intricate gears, dark metal plating, and sharp, claw-like fingers. A green tube filled with liquid ran from the palm to the base, faint smoke curling from its seams.
He didn't yet understand its full potential, but he had seen the arm cast a spell. It clearly had special functions, and the magic circle that appeared on Troy's palm reminded him of the pattern etched on the sewer entrance.
If I could figure out how to produce something like this, it could greatly enhance the strength of the swarm. The Cleansing would no longer be a problem, he thought, a vision forming in his mind of his forces outfitted with prosthetic arms. The image filled him with a sense of joy and anticipation.
But Troy's next words snapped him back to reality.
"It's a medium between me and the Etherium," Troy explained. "This prosthetic arm helps me resist corruption more easily. I can give you the basics, but if you want more advanced information, you'd need a high-level Warlock for that. I only became a Warlock a few years ago, so when it comes to knowledge, I'm still just a beginner."
"And besides, this thing is rare—you won't find it just anywhere. It's incredibly expensive too. I spent my life savings to buy it," Troy added. "From what I know, creating an Arcane Machina is no easy feat. Each one costs millions of echoes. If you're planning to buy one, I can introduce you to an Architect."
In the Warlock world, there are two types of Warlocks: Architects and Bearers. Architects are responsible for creating technologies related to Warlockcraft, such as the Arcane Machina, while Bearers specialize in wielding these creations. While Bearers excel in utilizing the tools crafted by Architects, they are not known for their inventiveness.
In essence, although both are Warlocks, their interaction with Etherium differs significantly. Architects face a much higher risk of succumbing to corruption because they work directly with vast, often raw and unstable quantities of Etherium, shaping it into usable constructs. This process demands immense skill but comes at a steep cost.
Bearers, on the other hand, engage with Etherium in a more controlled manner. They tap into pre-existing mechanisms and systems, channeling the energy in measured bursts. While they are not entirely free from risk, the safeguards built into the Arcane Machina by Architects greatly reduce the dangers they face.
A million echoes... Hearing the price, Light grimaced, with that kind of money he could buy more resources for Ratkins even upgrading barracks and other structures is not difficult. In fact, during these few months, Light and the Ratkin had accumulated thousands of Chimes.
Chimes are a higher denomination of Echoes. When Echoes reach the thousands, they are referred to as Chimes. A million Echoes is called a Pulse, and a billion Echoes is known as a Harmony. These denominations form the basic currency system used by the Brazen Empire.
It seemed that the underground city followed the same currency structure as well.
"So expensive... I should start a business. We can't keep relying on stealing anymore. Stealing will only increase the risk of exposure. When I return, I need to let the others know and seal all the entrances," he thought.
The sounds of the bustling streets faded as they entered a dark alleyway. Trash was scattered around, and rats lurking in the shadows began to gather, communicating with their King.
Several moments later, the rats stopped, and Light frowned. He muttered something to one of the rats before turning to Kratch. "It seems something is going on. The rats are warning us that it's dangerous ahead," he said.
"What should we do now, Father?" Kratch asked.
Hearing Light's words, the leader guiding them narrowed his eyes. "Danger?"
Although he didn't believe Light's warning outright, he kept his thoughts to himself. He, too, had a bad feeling about the situation. Could it be... them?
He recalled that the alleyway only led to one building—the shop he was supposed to bring his new master to. "Should we turn back?" he asked.
Light considered the question for a moment before nodding. "Let's go."
Even though the rats had warned him of danger, Light's battle instincts remained calm. However, he trusted their warning and didn't want to cause unnecessary trouble in a city they were still unfamiliar with.
Gently, he set the rat down and instructed it to continue investigating as they left the dark alleyway.
"Since we can't go to the shop, how about I lead you to another place?" Troy suggested.
Light shook his head. "No, let's return."
"We've been gone for hours. I hope the barracks are finished by now so I can finally start training some soldiers."