Zethir stood up, watching as the four men in suits sat leisurely on the sofa.

  “You're drug dealers?” He asked, eyes narrowed while massaging the back of his neck. The kick to the chin wasn't painful, but the way his neck snapped upward made it ache.

  “Hey, we do legal business,” the blinded man waved his arm, whilst the scar-faced man scoffed.

  In the kingdom of Targia… or rather, the kingdoms worshipping the gods of sins, the law and morality were rather lax. In comparison, the kingdoms on the virtues side were stricter and more rigid.

  In Targia, slave trading and drug dealings weren't illegal, nor were they advertised. In simpler terms, the higher ups turns a blind eye to them.

  After all, half the kingdom believed in a god of virtue—they couldn't promote these “dark” businesses.

  “On the other hand, why is a mercenary snooping around here? What's your business?” The scar-faced man asked, the purplish energy around his arms thickening slowly.

  Zethir's fingers twitched. ‘Tsk, it's bad enough that his spells are fast. This guy, how much energy can he accumulate?’

  Spellcasters rely on energy accumulation to boost the power of their spells.

  It's similar to adding weights on a plate, and telling someone to lift it. The more energy a spellcaster accumulates, the more powerful their spell would be. Of course, there was a limit on the amount of energy a spellcaster can gather.

  That limit depended on a spellcaster’s control.

  “I'm here on a mission,” Zethir said, relaxing his entire body. On the outside, he looked relaxed—but it was deception.

  With a relaxed body, energy can flow more freely within.

  ‘Earleon said my body isn't healed yet, but…’ He watched the scar-faced man at the corner of his vision. ‘Between being gravely injured and dying, I'd choose the former.’

  “A mission? What kind of mission is destroying public peace?” The blinded man raised his voice a little. “By the way, you'll have to compensate us.”

  Zethir frowned. “For what?”

  “For ruining our day. And that one bag of drugs,” the blinded man pointed at the ground.

  “...how much is it?” Zethir silently gritted his teeth. ‘It’s just money. I can earn it back…’

  The blinded man looked at him speechlessly. ‘It’s just one bag of drugs, why does he look like he's about to lose a million?’ He wondered.

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  “One…”

  Zethir's eyes twitched.

  “...” The blinded man closed his mouth.

  ~~~~~

  Earleon glanced at Zethir, who was silently eating barbeque served by the bar. He didn't drink any beer, even though they were surrounded by two barrels and several one liter mugs.

  “Hey, Zethir,” he nudged the sulking man, and then at the four others who sat across from them. “What happened???”

  “Ask them,” Zethir spoke, nearly inaudibly.

  “PUHAHA!” The blinded man laughed, before chugging down a mug overflowing with beer.

  Slamming the mug down the table, he grinned at Earleon. “Say, I've seen you before! What's your name, man?”

  Earleon pointed at himself in surprise. “Me? Are you sure?”

  He never traveled much, so being recognized was almost impossible.

  “Yeah. Are you that guy who slayed a dragon?!”

  “Haha! No way,” Earleon waved his hands in dismissal. “In the first place, dragons went extinct.”

  “Yeah, ‘cuz you killed ‘em all!” The blinded man guffawed. “Don't judge my appearance, I'm part elven. I'm nearly a century old!” He grinned.

  Earleon scratched the side of his forehead. “Uh, sorry for not recognizing a senior… but really, I don't know what you're talking about. I'm only twenty four…”

  “Huh? Is that so…” The blinded man scratched his head. “I probably got the wrong person, then,” he shrugged, scooping up more beer from the barrel.

  Earleon cleared his throat. “Erm, may I know what happened… back there?”

  The scar-faced man sneered. “That guy stormed in and got caught in our trap. Then, I beat him up, so he surrendered like a pu—”

  The buff man smacked him by the back of his head, nearly making him kiss the desk. “Bastard. I'm the one who knocked him out!” He mumbled, holding a mug of beer… although for his size, holding the barrel seemed more appropriate.

  The bearded smile sighed, shaking his head. “He mistook us for some unethical slave traders. In the end, we decided on a deal. He treats us to some beer, and we slip this under the rug.”

  “Some? Just some beer?” Zethir muttered under his breath, his voice scathing.

  Earleon smiled wryly at that. He didn't know someone could be stingier than the royals of Targia.

  Thankfully, the four men didn't hear him.

  The blinded man spoke up while grabbing a handful of fried nuts. “Listen, everyone hates those sorts of people. We understand why you'd ignore consequences just to kill them, but you've gotta do your research first, you know?”

  “Research?” Earleon watched the blinded man start munching on nuts.

  “In Nea, dozens of factions exist. Some are for business, some are for armed forces, some are for politics… you get the idea. We deal with drugs, and our business is rather clean.”

  “Pfft, unlike those from Aluksha,” the bearded man scoffed, stealing some of the blinded man's fried nuts.

  “...” The blinded man looked at his plate of nuts, which was halved. “Tsk. We are from Frejiero, and while we sell drugs, we never sell them to unqualified clients. In other words, minors, those who are broke… in fact, we only sell them to rich people!”

  Earleon raised an eyebrow. “And those from Aluksha?”

  “The Aluksha are the exact opposite, and they delve in slave trading too. The kind that your friend here wants to eradicate,” he looked at Zethir, who had long stopped eating his barbeque.

  “Anyway, does that make the Frejiero good guys? Well, no. But we're certainly not as bad as Aluksha.”

  “Not even close,” the bearded man huffed, grabbing another handful of nuts from the blinded man's plate.

  “Tch,” the blinded man moved his plate to his lap. “So… if you two are willing, we can work together. The Aluksha is our enemy, and your enemy as well. We can provide you some information, and all you'll have to do is kill them. Simple, right?”

  At this moment, Zethir grabbed a mug… full of water. “And why don't you reach out to the armed forces… factions…”

  The blinded man sighed. “Sadly, all the armed forces factions in Nea sides with the Aluksha, and those similar to Aluksha. It's tough out here, man.”

  Zethir narrowed his eyes in thought. Meanwhile, Earleon asked.

  “If we kill your enemies, what do we gain?”

  The scar-faced man scoffed. “That's your problem. Even if you don't kill the Aluksha, nothing will change for us.”

  The blinded man patted the scar-faced man’s shoulder. “Whether we make this deal or not doesn't matter to us. I mentioned it because you seem to abhor those factions… but it seems like benefits triumphs, after all.”

  Zethir looked at him, before focusing back on his plate of barbeques.

  “We're… I'm no hero. I clean up trash that's on my way, but I don't go out of my way to clean up garbage.”

  Earleon glanced at him, his eyes flickering between pale-white and gray.

  Soon after leaving the bar, the two of them reunited with Hans and Julien. The latter two managed to find several ideal places to plant bombs, but they couldn't find any weak spots in Nea’s security.

  If they attack, they'd be surrounded in mere minutes.

  “We need baits,” Zethir rubbed his chin, deep in thought.

  “Do you have any idea, Zethir?” Julien looked at him, his face a little helpless. Apart from Zethir, he was the latest member of the group.

  Not only that, his character aligned more with justice. He wanted to eradicate the corrupt royalty more than anyone else in the group. But as for who told him they were doing that, only he knew.

  Zethir closed his eyes for a moment, thinking back to earlier events.

  “Yes. I know exactly who to use.”