Morning - Western District
"Fifteen silver by noon, old man. Or we come back tonight."
The merchant trembled, hands shaking as he counted coins on the counter. "Please, I only made eight silver this week—"
"Not my problem." Vorn leaned against the doorframe, picking his teeth. "You want protection, you pay for protection."
"But I already paid last week—"
"Prices went up. Dangerous times." I smiled at the old bastard. "Lots of new adventurers around. Can't guarantee your safety unless we're properly compensated."
The merchant's wife appeared from the back room. Younger. Pretty enough. She saw us and paled.
Good. They remembered.
"We'll find the money," she said quickly. Pulled her husband back. "By noon. We promise."
"That's better." I straightened. "See, Dalric? Cooperation. That's all we ask."
Dalric grunted from where he watched the street. "Someone's coming. Move."
We left through the back. Standard routine.
By the time the city guard passed by the front, we'd be three streets away. And even if the merchant reported us—which he wouldn't—his wife knew what happened to people who talked.
We'd made sure she knew.
"How much today?" Vorn asked as we cut through an alley.
"Thirty silver from five marks. Not bad for a morning." I counted the coins. "Plus whatever Kester gets from his territory."
"Think he'll handle that new kid?"
"The B-ranker? Please." I snorted. "Kester'll scare him off in two minutes. Kid's probably never seen real muscle before."
We emerged onto the main street. Time to check our other marks before meeting up with Kester at noon.
The blacksmith was first. Old Druffen.
Been three months since his brat died. Figured he'd learned his lesson by now.
We walked up to "DaDa's Happy Store"—stupid name for a smithy—and pushed the door open.
Druffen looked up from his forge. Saw us.
His face went flat.
"We're not interested," he said.
"Not interested in what?" I walked in, Vorn and Dalric flanking me. "We haven't offered anything yet, old man."
"Whatever you're offering. Not interested." He set down his hammer. "Leave."
"That's no way to treat potential customers." I ran my finger along a sword display. "Nice work. Shame if something happened to damage your reputation."
"Get. Out."
"Your daughter had spirit too." I smiled. "Remember? When she wouldn't cooperate?"
His hand clenched around the hammer.
"We remember." Vorn grinned. "Real fighter, that one. Lasted longer than most."
Druffen's knuckles went white.
"Then she learned," I continued. "Eventually. They all do." I pulled out a protection contract. "Standard rate. Ten silver a week. Keeps your shop safe. Keeps your customers safe. Keeps you safe."
"I know what you did." His voice was barely above a whisper.
"Do you? Prove it." I leaned on the counter. "The guild investigated. Found nothing. Case closed."
"I know—"
"You know nothing. Just like everyone else knows nothing." I tapped the contract. "But you know what? I'm feeling generous. Considering your loss and all. Five silver a week. Final offer."
He stared at me. Then at the contract.
Then he did something unexpected.
He smiled.
"No."
"No?"
"No. Get out of my shop." His smile was strange. Wrong. "And don't come back."
The old man had grown a spine. Interesting.
"You sure about that?" Vorn moved closer. "Be a shame if this place burned down—"
"I said get out."
"You'll regret—"
"Actually," a voice came from behind us, "I think you're the ones who'll regret this."
We turned.
Some kid stood in the doorway. Dark hair, pale skin, maybe eighteen.
"Shop's closed," I said. "Come back later."
"I'm not here for equipment." His voice was perfectly flat. "I'm here about Druffen's daughter."
The temperature in the room dropped.
"Who the fuck are you?"
"Yuzuki." He stepped inside. Closed the door behind him. "And you're Kester's crew. The ones who killed her."
Dalric's hand moved to his weapon.
"Easy now," I said. Kept my voice calm. "That's a serious accusation, kid. Got any proof?"
This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.
"I have twelve witness statements. Physical evidence. Guild investigation reports." His eyes were empty. "And a list of your other victims."
My stomach clenched.
"The guild closed that case," Vorn said. "Insufficient evidence."
"The guild failed." He said it so simply. "I won't."
"Listen, kid—"
"You're Vorn. C-rank. Twenty-eight years old. Six complaints of assault, all dismissed. Known associate of Kester." His voice was clinical. Reciting facts. "You personally held her down while the others—"
"Shut the fuck up!" Vorn lunged.
The kid moved.
One moment Vorn was charging. The next he was on the ground, arm bent at a wrong angle.
Screaming.
"Dalric," the kid said. Still flat. "Age thirty-one. Seven complaints. You were the one who broke her fingers to take the sword."
Dalric pulled his blade. "You're dead—"
Another movement. Too fast to track.
Dalric's sword clattered to the ground.
Then Dalric followed it. Not moving.
I backed toward the door. Pulled my own weapon.
"Stay back! I'll—"
"You'll what?" The kid walked forward. Not rushing. Just walking. "Call the guards? Report me? File a complaint?"
My hand shook.
"The system protects you. Yes?" He tilted his head. "Witnesses recant. Evidence disappears. Cases close."
"Look, we can make a deal—"
"I'm not interested in deals." He was three steps away. "I'm interested in permanent solutions to recurring problems."
"Wait—WAIT!"
He stopped.
"We'll leave! We'll leave the city! Never come back!"
"Statistically, recidivism rate for your behavior type is ninety-four percent." He said it like reading a weather report. "You'll relocate and continue operations elsewhere."
"No! I swear—"
"Your sworn statements have been proven false twenty-three times in guild records." He took another step. "Your word has no value."
My back hit the wall.
"Please—"
"Druffen's daughter said please." His eyes were completely empty. "You didn't stop."
"That was—she was—it was an accident!"
"You bragged about it. Yesterday. At the tavern. I heard you."
Oh god.
Oh god, he'd been listening.
"We didn't mean to kill her! Just scare her! Teach her a lesson!"
"You tortured her for three hours. Raped her. Left her to die in an alley." Each word perfectly measured. "That requires intent."
"The guild cleared us!"
"The guild failed."
He moved.
I woke to pain.
Everything hurt. My arms. My legs. My—
Where was I?
Trees. Overhead. Forest.
How did I get to the forest?
I tried to sit up. Couldn't. My hands were tied behind me.
No. Not tied.
Broken.
Both hands broken at the wrists.
"You're awake. Good."
The kid sat nearby. On a log. Eating an apple.
"What—where—"
"Willow's Creep. Deep forest. Approximately three hours from the city." He took another bite. "Far enough that screaming won't reach anyone."
Screaming?
"What are you going to do?"
"Nothing." He finished the apple. Tossed the core aside. "I already did what I came to do. Broke your hands. Your legs. Removed your weapons and supplies."
I looked down. My legs—oh god, my legs were bent wrong.
"Now I wait."
"Wait for what?"
"For the forest to finish what I started." He stood. Brushed off his clothes. "This area has several predator species. Direwolves primarily. Some Rend-bears. You'll attract them soon."
"You can't—you can't just leave me here!"
"Why not?" He tilted his head. "You left Druffen's daughter in an alley. Same principle."
"That's different!"
"How?"
"She was—we didn't—it wasn't—"
"Personal? Planned? Torture?" He picked up his bag. "You're correct. Your death will be cleaner. Animals kill for food, not entertainment."
"WAIT! PLEASE!"
He paused. Looked back.
"Please," I begged. "I'll do anything. Testify. Give names. Everything."
"You've recanted twenty-three sworn statements. Your testimony has no value."
"I'll tell the truth this time! I swear!"
"Irrelevant. The system can't hold you. Evidence disappears. Witnesses recant." He adjusted his bag. "This is more efficient."
"YOU CAN'T DO THIS!"
"I already have."
"Someone will find out! They'll know you did this!"
"Will they?" He looked around. "No witnesses. No evidence. Your body will be consumed completely. Even bones are eaten by the scavengers here."
Just like we'd told so many people.
No evidence. No witnesses. No proof.
"In three hours, you'll be screaming." His voice was clinical. "In six hours, you'll be dead. In twenty-four hours, nothing of you will remain."
"Why?!" I screamed. "Why are you doing this?!"
"You killed Druffen's daughter. The system failed to stop you. Someone should correct that." He started walking. "Consider it efficient threat removal."
"COME BACK! PLEASE!"
His footsteps faded into the forest.
I was alone.
Broken. Bleeding. Helpless.
The sun was setting.
And in the growing darkness, I heard something move.
Something big.
Something hungry.
I'd spent three years making people feel this terror.
Making them beg.
Making them helpless.
Now I understood.
This was what we'd done to them.
This was what it felt like to be prey.
The moving thing came closer.
I started screaming.
Far away, walking through evening forest
The screaming faded behind me.
I checked my mental task list:
- Eliminate threats to civilian population: Complete
- Remove witnesses who could compromise future operations: Complete
- Ensure no evidence remains: In progress (natural scavenger cleanup more efficient than manual disposal)
The forest would handle the rest.
In twenty-four hours, nothing would remain. No bodies. No weapons. No proof.
Just three people who'd vanished into Willow's Creep.
It happened sometimes. Even experienced adventurers disappeared in the deep forest.
No one would question it.
I emerged from the treeline as full darkness fell. The city lights glowed in the distance.
Tomorrow I'd deliver the good news to Druffen. The problem was solved.
Then I'd start clearing the quest backlog. Twenty-six requests from people who needed help.
Efficient use of time.
I walked toward the city, already planning optimal quest routes.
Behind me, the screaming had stopped.
The forest was quiet again.
Problem solved.
Next Morning - City Guard Station
"Missing person report. Three men, last seen yesterday afternoon."
The guard looked up from his paperwork. "Names?"
"Vorn Kelthic, Dalric Moss, and... Kester Brune."
"Kester?" The guard frowned. "The C-ranker? When was he last seen?"
"Yesterday. They were supposed to meet their boss last night. Never showed."
"Where were they going?"
"The guild. Some kind of job."
The guard made notes. "I'll file the report. But honestly, adventurers disappear sometimes. Especially lower ranks. Probably took a quest without logging it."
"For a whole day?"
"It happens. If they don't turn up in a week, we'll investigate further."
The report was filed.
Stamped.
Placed in a stack with dozens of others.
Three more people lost to the wilderness.
No one would look too hard.
No one ever did.
That same morning - Druffen's workshop
I heard the bell chime.
Looked up from the blade I was sharpening.
The boy—Yuki—stood in the doorway.
"Good morning, Mr. Druffen."
"Morning." I set down my tools. "What brings you back?"
"Delivery." He placed a small package on the counter. "Rare smithing materials. For your daughter's projects."
I stared at the package.
Then at him.
His eyes were the same. Analytical. Calm.
But something had changed.
"The three men who visited yesterday," I said carefully. "They won't be coming back."
"No. They won't."
"How can you be sure?"
"I removed the problem." He said it so simply. "Efficiently."
I understood.
Three men who'd killed my daughter.
Gone.
"Did they... did they suffer?"
"Does it matter?"
"Yes."
He considered. "They experienced fear. Pain. Helplessness. The same things they inflicted on others." He paused. "Then they died. The forest consumed the evidence."
No bodies. No proof. No witnesses.
Just like they'd done to so many others.
"Thank you," I whispered.
"You're welcome. The materials are from the northern mines. Should work well with the techniques your daughter was developing."
He turned to leave.
"Wait."
He paused.
I pulled the practice sword from the wall. That brilliant golden hilt. That yellow gem.
"She made this to signal me. To let me find her." I held it out. "She'd want someone to have it. Someone who actually stopped them."
He looked at the sword. Then at me.
"I'm not a hero, Mr. Druffen."
"I know. But you're the only one who cared enough to act."
He took the sword. Tested its balance.
"The craftsmanship is exceptional," he said quietly. "I'll use it well."
"I know you will."
He left.
The bell chimed.
I stood in my workshop, looking at the empty space on the wall.
For three months, that sword had been all I had left of her.
Now it was with someone who'd finished what she started.
Someone who'd given her justice when the system failed.
I returned to my work.
Strike. Heat. Quench.
But this time, I wasn't working to forget.
I was working to remember.
To finish her projects.
To honor her dream.
She'd wanted to advertise my work as an adventurer.
Well.
That strange, analytical, terrifying boy was carrying her sword now.
And somehow, I thought she'd approve.
[End of Chapter 6] [End of Mini-Arc: The Wasted Points] [Beginning of Grand Arc: The Corruption Chain]