’A hundred and fifty credits? That is a complete scam. But arguing here is a waste of time.’
He reached into the small pouch of coins he had taken from the bounty hunters and counted out the credits. His own remaining funds were getting dangerously low.
Rebecca poked her head out from under the blanket again. "Hey! That’s robbery! Luthra, just beat them up! You can totally take them!"
He ignored her and handed the coins to the first guard, who quickly pocketed the money with a greedy smile. "Alright, you can pass. But don’t cause any trouble in my town."
Luthra snapped the reins, and the cart rolled through the gates into Outpost K. The town was a chaotic maze of dirt streets, loud taverns, and merchants selling everything from rusty swords to suspicious-looking potions. People of all kinds filled the streets, most of them carrying weapons.
After the thirty thousand credit hunter registration fee and the fifty thousand credit quest failure penalty, Luthra was left with 164,409 credits. He had given the pouch with the bounty hunters’ coins to the captives, which he estimated was around five thousand credits. After paying the one hundred and fifty credit "tax" at the gate, he now had a total of 164,259 credits left. It seemed like a lot, but in a town , money disappeared fast.
He drove the cart down a main street until he found a large, dirty-looking building with a wooden sign that depicted a drunken pig. It was an inn. He pulled the cart into the attached stable, paid a small boy ten credits to watch the horses, and walked inside, Rebecca trailing right behind him.
The inn was a large, dark room filled with rough-looking men and women drinking and gambling. The air smelled horrendous, like stale beer and unwashed bodies. Luthra walked straight to the counter where a large, bald man with a scarred face was wiping a mug with a dirty rag.
"We need a room. Two beds."
The innkeeper did not even look up. "Fifty credits a night. In advance. And no funny business. I don’t want to be cleaning blood off my floorboards in the morning."
Luthra counted out fifty credits and placed them on the counter. The innkeeper scooped them up and tossed a key onto the bar. "Room seven. Upstairs, at the end of the hall. Now what do you want to drink?"
The innkeeper finally looked up, his expression bored. "Information costs more than fifty credits, pal. What do you want to know?"
"The Gorgon Syndicate. I hear they operate around here."
The innkeeper’s eyes narrowed. He leaned forward. "You a bounty hunter? Or just stupid? Asking about the Syndicate in a public place is a good way to end up floating face down in a ditch." He gestured with his head toward a table in the corner, where three men in black leather armor were watching them. They had the mark of a snake eating its own tail tattooed on their necks. "They have ears everywhere."
Luthra glanced at the men, then back at the innkeeper. "I’m not afraid of them. I want to know about the Gorgon Mines. Where are they, and how many men do they have guarding them?"
The innkeeper let out a short, gruff laugh. "The mines are three days north of here, deep in the Wastes. And the number of guards doesn’t matter. They’re all branded slaves and Syndicate grunts. The real problem is the man in charge, ’Gorgon’ Silas. He’s a B-Rank lunatic with petrification magic. You get within a hundred feet of the mines, and he’ll know. And then you’ll become a very permanent statue in his garden."
Rebecca, who had been hiding behind Luthra’s leg, tugged on his trousers. "Hey, a B-Rank? That’s really strong, right? Maybe we should come up with a better plan than just walking in and breaking everything."
’She’s right. A B-Rank is a problem. Especially a magic-user.’
"Is there anyone in this town who would be willing to go against the Syndicate?"
The innkeeper scoffed. "Are you insane? No one here is suicidal enough to pick a fight with Silas. The only person in this town stronger than him is Old Man Moria, and he doesn’t get involved in anything. He just sits in his mansion and collects his taxes."
"No one," the innkeeper confirmed. He went back to wiping his mug. "Now, are you going to order a drink, or are you just going to stand there and get my customers killed?"
Luthra turned to leave the counter, but one of the Syndicate men from the corner table stood up and walked over to them. He was a tall, thin man with a cruel smile. He looked Luthra up and down, his eyes lingering on the black chain wrapped around his arm.
"That’s a nice-looking weapon you have there. It looks familiar."
Luthra did not say anything.
The man’s smile widened. He pointed a finger at the chain.
"That chain... I know that chain. It belonged to my little brother. Tell me, traveler, where did you find it?"
The man’s cruel smile did not waver. He took another step forward, his hand reaching out as if to touch the weapon wrapped around Luthra’s arm.
’This is such a pain in the ass. This is the oldest trick in the book, a simple provocation to start a fight so he can steal my stuff.’
Rebecca, who was still half-hidden behind Luthra’s leg, poked her head out, "Hey, mister! My big brother found that chain in a dragon’s treasure hoard after he killed it with his bare hands! Your brother must have been a really amazing dragon to own something so cool!"
The man’s smile faltered, replaced by a flicker of confusion, "What? Dragon? What is this little brat talking about?"
Luthra did not move or speak, his gaze remaining fixed on the man.
’A dragon, huh? She sure is good at lying.’
The Syndicate member recovered his composure and sneered, "Shut up, you little rat. I’m talking to him." He refocused his attention on Luthra, "My little brother, Timmy, was a kind boy who wouldn’t hurt a fly. He was mugged and killed for that chain, his only memento from our sainted mother. Now, are you going to return it to me peacefully, or am I going to have to take it from your corpse?"
’Timmy? What a stupid name. And a sainted mother? This guy’s terrible at this.’
The innkeeper, who was still behind the bar, let out a quiet sigh and subtly moved a heavy wooden club to a more accessible position under the counter.
’Damn it, I knew they were trouble. There goes my quiet evening.’
The man, seeing Luthra’s complete lack of a reaction, finally lost his patience, "Fine! Have it your way! I’ll just take it!"
A faint, dirty-yellow aura of mana flared around the man’s right fist as he lunged forward, throwing a punch aimed not at Luthra’s face, but directly at the black chain coiled around his arm.
’He’s aiming for the weapon, he wants to break it and disarm me. Not a bad plan for an idiot.’
He did not dodge, he did not block, and he did not move a single inch. He simply stood there and let the mana-infused fist slam into the Chain.
There was no loud crash or explosion of force. The moment his knuckles made contact with the strange, light-absorbing metal, the yellow mana aura around his fist was simply erased, sucked into the chain without a trace. It was followed by a wet crunching sound.
’Hmm, so this is outpost k huh.’