Coming out of the inn, Cier thought about the task at hand.
The tasks he had taken on before had paid far less compared to what he was earning for this one. Those tasks were often mundane yet risky, involving things like secretly delivering messages or objects and gathering information on individuals. None of them had ever come close to offering such a generous reward.
He sighed, reflecting on the stark contrast between the life of a normal person and that of an evolved one. The cost of an awakening potion alone was about 1 gold coin—a sum he had painstakingly saved over years by taking on dangerous assignments. Now, as an evolver, he could earn the same amount from just one or two tasks.
Pulling out the task paper again, he reviewed the details. It included the area where the Clemine gang was known to operate and even had pictures of all the gang members. The person who had posted the task from the inner city had explicitly requested for it to be completed as soon as possible.
Determined, Cier decided to finish it today. The area where the gang was based was about a 30-minute walk from here. Without delay, he started on his way, his pace brisk and focused. Before long, he reached the area, his sharp eyes scanning the surroundings for any signs of the gang members.
Walking on the area, as if he was just passing by, his eyes constantly scanned the surroundings. The people walking around here were much less as compared to other places.
Walking further, he suddenly saw two people talking to themselves in a corner while walking forward. Looking at their faces and confirming, they were undoubtedly two members of the Clemine gang.
"Brother, do you know why the boss urgently called us back to the base?"
"Haah, I really don't know, but our gang is just a few months old, so he might be introducing some new policies."
"Really, I was thinking of drinking this whole day, and then having a good sleep."
From their conversation, Cier deduced that their leader might have somehow caught wind that they were being targeted, prompting the call to regroup at the base.
Cier already knew the gang's base location from the information Lily had provided, so interrogating these two would likely yield little additional value. Instead, eliminating them quickly seemed the smarter course of action. However, using the same method as he had at the brothel could attract unwanted attention and risk exposing his identity to anyone investigating.
Pausing to think, he devised a better approach.
Cier pulled out a knife, its edge gleaming faintly in the dull light. He quickly climbed a nearby building and, with practiced agility, crossed over rooftops, getting ahead of the pair. After a few quick strides, he stopped at a quiet point along the path he anticipated they would take.
Looking down, he carefully dropped the knife into the middle of the road, positioning it so it would easily catch their attention as they approached.
Cier remained hidden, his focus steady as he waited for the two gang members to approach. He could hear the faint sounds of their footsteps drawing nearer, the light shuffle of their boots against the cobblestone road.
As he kept his eyes fixed on the path ahead, the footsteps grew louder, signaling their approach. Cier's grip tightened on the threads, ready to move at the right moment.
Suddenly, the sound of footsteps stopped, and he knew they had arrived at the spot where the knife lay on the ground. Moments later, their voices rang out.
"Look, there's a knife on the ground," one of the gang members remarked, noticing the weapon lying in the middle of the road.
"Who would throw a well-made knife here?" the other commented as he picked it up and examined the sharp edge.
"Who cares, brother? It might be good enough for use, or we can just sell it."
"Yeah, you're right," the first one said, nodding in agreement.
Seeing the right movement, Cier sprang into action.With a subtle pull of his thread, the knife in the man's hand slashed across the neck of the unsuspecting companion in front of him.
The man's eyes widened in shock as a thin red line appeared on his neck, quickly followed by a gush of blood. He staggered, staring at his comrade in disbelief, his mouth opening as if to question, curse, or plead. But instead of words, only blood poured out, staining his clothes and the ground beneath him.
Before he could fully process what had happened, his dimming vision caught a horrifying sight—his comrade, the one he had trusted, suddenly driving the knife into his own forehead. The expression of confusion and disbelief on the man's face as the blade pierced his skull would have been haunting if he had the time to comprehend it.
With two heavy thuds, both bodies collapsed onto the ground, their movements ceasing forever. The street returned to its eerie quietness, as if nothing had happened.
With a casual pull of his thread, Cier retrieved the knife, catching it effortlessly. He took out a cloth from his pocket and calmly wiped the blood off the blade, ensuring it was clean before slipping it back into his sheath. Without sparing another glance at the lifeless bodies, he began heading toward the base of the Clemine gang.
The sight of dead bodies in gang-controlled areas wasn't unusual, and the people living nearby had learned to mind their own business rather than risk their lives by interfering. Any commotion the deaths might cause wouldn't matter to Cier. He intended to finish the task long before word of the incident could reach the gang. After all, once his work was done, there wouldn't be a Clemine gang left to hear the news.
Going on his way, Cier quickly arrived at the base of the Clemine gang. The building stood at the edge of the district, a rundown warehouse with faded wooden panels and a rusted iron gate. Its dilapidated appearance matched the reputation of a gang that had only recently made its mark.
The surroundings were quiet, unnervingly so, with no signs of guards or patrols. The lack of security showed their inexperience or perhaps their arrogance. Either way, it worked to Cier's advantage. He paused briefly, scanning the area for anything unusual before stepping closer, his threads silently at the ready.
Quietly climbing up to a window, Cier peeked inside. The interior was dimly lit, with only the occasional flicker of a lantern casting shadows against the worn wooden beams of the ceiling. The warehouse was expansive, filled with crates, barrels, and piles of old, unused equipment. The air smelled stale, mixed with the musty scent of old timber and rusted metal.
The space was far from organized, a stark contrast to what one might expect from a well-established gang. It had the feel of a makeshift hideout, a temporary base before they could afford something more permanent. In the far corner, Cier noticed a group of people huddled around a table, their faces half-hidden in the gloom. They were arguing over something, but the words didn't quite reach him.
Near the back, a few men leaned against the walls, looking disinterested, as though they were waiting for orders or something to happen. The quiet chatter and shuffle of feet echoed through the warehouse, but nothing seemed to indicate an immediate threat.
As Cier crept closer, he could hear the voices of the gang members through the crack in the window.
"Why did the boss call us here so urgently? Does anyone know what's going on?" one of them asked, his voice tinged with confusion.
"Could be anything," the second replied, shrugging. "We're just a newly established gang, only a few months old. If it weren't for the fact that the boss has support from the Gale Brotherhood, we'd have been wiped out by the other gangs by now."
Cier's brows furrowed at the mention of the Gale Brotherhood. That was one of the major gangs in the outer city, with some influence even reaching into the inner city. It seemed that their boss had some serious backing.
"Well, it might be something related to the Gale Brotherhood's orders," said a third voice, cutting through the tension.
"But where is the boss? He told us to be here," one of the men grumbled, glancing around.
"Not just the boss, but those two idiots aren't here either. They're always late when we gather," another added, his tone frustrated.
As their conversation continued, a sudden sound of footsteps echoed through the silence. The gang members turned, their attention drawn to the approaching figure.
A burly, bald man appeared in the doorway. His face was like stone, hard and unreadable, giving off an air of authority. The room fell silent as he stepped forward, the tension palpable.