Thomas wore a slight smile on his face, but Jamie seemed even more exhilarated. ‘Two hundred and fifty experience points—for both of us!’ he celebrated inwardly as the shimmering notifications faded from view.

  “I'll have to be careful not to become a mass murderer…” Jamie muttered under his breath, a shiver running down his spine at the thought of how much experience he might gain if he killed the entire gang. Beside him, Jay nodded silently in agreement, his eyes reflecting a shared understanding.

  "Let's move. We still need to explore the second floor," Jamie said, snapping Thomas out of his reverie. Thomas was still catching his breath, the adrenaline from the recent battle coursing through his veins.

  They ascended the long, winding staircase, each wooden step creaking softly underfoot. At the top, they were met with a single, dimly lit corridor stretching out before them. Doors lined the hallway—some stood ajar, while others remained firmly closed.

  Jamie surveyed the corridor, his mind racing to devise a safer way to proceed. ‘Jay, can't you go from room to room and tell me what's inside?’ he asked in his mind, hoping his companion could scout ahead.

  Jay's whiskers twitched as he responded, "No. Unfortunately, our bond doesn't allow us to separate. I need to stay in the same room as you at all times."

  ‘Damn it,’ Jamie thought, disappointment flickering across his face at the loss of the possibility of an invulnerable scout.

  Both men advanced cautiously down the corridor, every sense attuned to their surroundings. They moved with as much stealth as possible, footsteps barely a whisper against the worn floorboards. Reaching the first open doorway, they paused, attempting to glean without crossing the threshold.

  Even from their point of view, they could make out simple bunk beds lined against the walls, rough wooden furniture, and a scattering of discarded clothes strewn across the floor.

  "A dormitory?" Thomas whispered, his voice barely audible.

  Jamie nodded, stretching his neck slightly to peer deeper into the room. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary—no signs of life or anything of interest.

  "Empty," he murmured. "Let's keep moving."

  They continued down the hall, passing two more doors. Each was locked, the handles refusing to budge even under Jamie's careful touch. Unwilling to force them and risk alerting anyone nearby, they pressed on toward the last room at the corridor's end.

  The door was slightly ajar, hanging loosely on its hinges. Jamie approached with caution, pressing his ear against the cold wood to listen for any signs of life within. Silence greeted him once more. Gently pushing the door open, he peered inside, his eyes darting around as he took in every detail.

  The room was bathed in the soft glow of scattered candles and a lone lantern hanging near a wooden wall. The air was thick with the scent of melted wax and aged timber. On the walls hung dozens of maps—some meticulously drawn on parchment, others crudely sketched on what appeared to be the hides of animals or perhaps monsters.

  At the center stood a sturdy oak table. Atop it lay a small pouch, its contents spilled carelessly across the surface—silver coins gleaming dully in the subdued light, as if someone had tossed them there in haste. In one corner, several bookshelves bowed under the weight of a few scattered tomes, their spines worn and pages yellowed with age. Beside them rested a small metal chest, its once-polished exterior now marred by patches of rust. An iron padlock secured it tightly at the front.

  A soft sound caught Jamie's attention. He turned to see Jay, his ever-present feline guardian, sniffing the air intently. The cat's nose twitched in an unusual pattern.

  ‘What is it?’ Jamie asked silently, their thoughts entwined through their unique bond.

  "My nose... Something tells me there's gold inside here," Jay responded. The cat stretched himself over the chest, his translucent form unable to penetrate the solid metal, yet his instincts assured him of the hidden treasure.

  Jamie arched an eyebrow. ‘Gold, you say?’ He glanced back at the chest, contemplating the possibilities.

  He moved toward the table, eyes scanning the disarray of papers strewn across it. Some documents bore singed edges, evidence of hurried attempts to destroy them. Others were torn or crumpled, discarded in apparent haste. As he sifted through the mess, certain papers caught his attention. They appeared to be incriminating evidence against the Cutpurses' rivals: detailed accounts of the trade and distribution of Dragon Powder. Another document contained a woman's testimony about a brothel that had been set up.

  Jamie's gaze shifted to the maps adorning the walls. Most depicted various districts of Hafenstadt, each marked with routes and annotations. One map stood out—a detailed rendering of the underground sewer system beneath the city. ‘The sewers of Hafenstadt? But why?’ he mused aloud. The realization struck him swiftly. ‘Could they be using the tunnels to move goods?’

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  Folding the underground map carefully, Jamie tucked it securely inside his coat.

  "See if you can open the chest," he whispered to Thomas, his voice barely audible over the soft crackle of candlelight.

  Thomas gave him a curious look but moved toward the chest. Kneeling down, he examined the heavy padlock, his brow furrowing in concentration. He tugged at it tentatively, the metal clanking dully but refusing to yield.

  "What am I supposed to do with this?" Thomas murmured, glancing back at Jamie.

  Jamie shrugged lightly, his attention still focused on the documents before him. "Not sure. But there's likely something important inside if it's locked up like that."

  Thomas sighed, turning back to the chest. "I'm not exactly skilled in lockpicking."

  "Perhaps there's a key around here somewhere," Jamie suggested, rifling through the table drawers. Old quills, dried ink pots, and scraps of parchment met his search, but no key.

  "Hey, shouldn't someone be watching the door?" Jay's voice echoed urgently in Jamie's mind.

  Unfortunately, only Jamie could hear him. A cold dread washed over him as he turned toward the door—it was already too late.

  He felt the chill of steel slicing through the air an instant before it bit into his flesh. The impact was abrupt, a jarring blow followed by a searing pain that radiated through his abdomen like liquid fire. His legs weakened, threatening to give way beneath him, and the sounds of the room around him dulled to a distant murmur.

  Through the haze of pain, Jamie's eyes locked onto the figure before him: a wiry half-elf with a sadistic grin stretching across his angular face. Ezek, the leader of the Cutpurses. His lips moved, forming words that Jamie couldn't quite grasp over the pounding of his heartbeat in his ears. Instead of listening, Jamie gritted his teeth, mustering his waning strength to clamp his hand around Ezek's wrist, stopping the dagger from plunging deeper.

  ‘Damn. I didn’t hear him approaching.’ Jamie had relied on his senses to feel safe. But upon seeing the half-elf, he began to understand. His footsteps weren’t just silent—they made no sound at all.

  Behind Ezek loomed one of his hulking guards, a giant of a man whose head nearly brushed the ceiling. The guard began to move as if preparing to attack, his heavy footsteps shaking the floorboards. But before he could reach Jamie, Thomas sprang into action. With determined ferocity, Thomas wielded his short sword, skillfully keeping the behemoth at bay.

  Jamie forced himself to block out the scuffle unfolding beside him, narrowing his focus to the menace directly before him. He tightened his grip on Ezek's arm, preventing the half-elf from withdrawing the blade—or worse, twisting it. Ezek's grin only widened, his eyes gleaming with cruel delight as he muttered taunts Jamie couldn't—or wouldn't—process. With his right hand holding firm, Jamie's left hand began weaving a subtle pattern, fingers poised to unleash a surprise.

  "You should learn not to laugh at your opponents," Jamie rasped, the metallic taste of blood coating his tongue.

  Ezek sneered, leaning in closer. "But I don't consider you an opponent," he hissed. "Just a thieving rat-"

  As Ezek continued his mocking tirade, Jamie acted swiftly, casting spell after spell without hesitation.

  [Dancing Lights]

  [Ghost Sounds]

  [Cause Fear]

  He didn't wait to see which enchantments took hold; there was no time for caution. First, he summoned dazzling lights that exploded in front of Ezek's eyes, brilliant flashes that forced the half-elf to recoil in surprise. Next, he filled the air with haunting, ethereal sounds—the wails of specters and whispers of the lost—that echoed at an unnerving volume, seeming to emanate from the very walls. Finally, he channeled his mana into a potent spell that pierced Ezek's defenses, instilling a deep, irrational fear within him.

  Physical strength had never been Jamie's forte, but the desperate will to survive ignited a fierce energy inside him. Seizing the moment as Ezek staggered under his magic assault, Jamie launched himself forward. With his free hand, he delivered a relentless barrage of punches to Ezek's face. Blow after blow connected, each fueled by adrenaline and raw will. He didn't stop to assess the damage or consider the pain in his own bruised knuckles; he simply kept striking. By the third or fourth punch, he felt the satisfying crunch of bone as Ezek's nose shattered under his fist.

  He didn't relent until he felt the strength drain from Ezek's body. The half-elf's arrogant sneer was replaced by a dazed, uncomprehending stare, blood trickling down his face. The only thing keeping him upright was Jamie's tight grip on his arm. With a final shove, Jamie released him. Ezek's hand loosened its grip on the dagger that was still embedded in Jamie's abdomen, and the gang leader crumpled to the floor, unconscious.

  Despite having defeated the leader of the Cutpurses, Jamie found no solace in his victory. ‘If he hadn't underestimated me and had stopped me from using magic, I would have been killed.’ Jamie felt the bitter taste of having tempted fate.

  A sharp, throbbing pain pulsed with every beat of his heart, radiating from the wound and spreading through his body like cracks spiderwebbing across glass. The weight of his own body became unbearable, and his vision blurred at the edges. His knees buckled, and he sank to the ground, gasping for breath as he struggled to regain his strength.

  Moments later, Thomas burst back into the room, his eyes widening in alarm as he took in the scene.

  "Jamie! Are you alright?" Thomas exclaimed, rushing to his side. His face was etched with concern, the earlier determination now overshadowed by worry.

  "I—I think so," Jamie managed to reply, his voice strained. "It just hurts like hell."

  Thomas glanced down at the dagger wound, blood seeping through Jamie's fingers as he pressed a hand against it. "We need to get you help."

  Jamie shook his head weakly. "Not yet. We have to finish what we came here to do."

  "What do you mean?" Thomas asked, confusion mingling with his concern.

  Gritting his teeth against the pain, Jamie began to drag himself across the floor toward where Ezek lay.

  With his right hand, he drew the dagger from his pocket and swiftly slashed the half-elf's throat, turning the ground into a pool of blood.

  | You have killed the Cutpurses' Leader.

  [ The God of Thieves smiles at your luck ]

  | You got 500 Experience Points

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