Episode 167
At the mention of the Northern Duke, Shadia’s expression shifted slightly.
“There’s an extra charge for assignments in the North.”
“That’s fine. I need you to investigate the lords surrounding the Northern Duke.”
Shadia nodded and disappeared once more.
Zeke sat back in his chair, resting his chin on his hand, and thought of Himonas.
“Maybe it’s because it feels like home. I can’t seem to get it out of my mind.”
The image of the Northern Duke, etched faintly in his memory, surfaced briefly. He shook off the thought and stood up.
“This isn’t the time to be lost in thought. I need to bring down Abel, become the strongest on the continent, and take control of the Draker family.”
With renewed determination, Zeke’s eyes gleamed with focus.
Zeke sent Boris, along with members of the Syndicate and the Rose Knights, ahead to Helly.
As for himself, he headed to Argos instead of Helly.
There was a place he needed to clear out first to approach the Nostra family.
Upon arriving in Argos via portal from the terminal, he donned a shape-shifting cloak to alter his appearance.
Disguised as a clumsy adventurer, Zeke slipped into the shadowy back alleys of the city.
Argos was bustling with facilities for adventurers, but beneath the surface, it was a hub for stolen goods and rampant crime.
The most frequent crime in Argos was human trafficking.
In a past life, Zeke had been kidnapped while working as a dungeon porter and sold as a slave to the southern continent.
“In dungeons, if someone goes missing, it’s just assumed they died. It’s the perfect setup for kidnappers.”
The human trafficking in Argos was far more organized than outsiders realized.
The first step was to identify adventurers or parties who could disappear without raising suspicion.
Traffickers would approach these parties, luring them with promises of lucrative dungeons and offering to guide them.
Once the party fell into the trap and entered the dungeon, they were drugged or magically incapacitated and handed over to middlemen.
These middlemen assessed the captives and decided where to sell them based on their condition.
As a porter, Zeke had been sold cheaply to the southern continent as a slave.
Mages and swordsmen were often sold to empires where slavery still existed or used as fodder in underground arenas.
Dario Totlino, a member of the Nostra family, was involved in numerous crimes, including human trafficking.
Under him were numerous middlemen who ran related businesses, amassing illicit wealth.
Zeke’s reason for coming to Argos in disguise was to disrupt these decentralized networks.
He entered a tavern with a naive look and sipped on a beer.
Sure enough, a man slid into the seat next to him.
“First time in Argos?”
The man, who looked like a seasoned adventurer, casually addressed Zeke.
Startled, Zeke nodded.
The man grinned, ordered two shots of fiery liquor, and poured one into Zeke’s beer without asking.
“If a pretty boy like you just sits here sipping beer, the wolves will tear you apart in no time.”
Zeke’s face hardened at the man’s words.
In a small voice, he asked, “Have you been an adventurer for long?”
The man replied with a relaxed demeanor, “I’ve been eating here for almost 30 years. Started young in this line of work.”
Zeke feigned admiration and nodded.
The man chuckled and extended his hand to Zeke.
“Name’s Frank. They call me Spiderhand among friends. What’s yours?”
“Z-Zeke. Zeke Murray.”
“Alright, Zeke. You don’t seem like the adventuring type. What brings you to Argos?”
Zeke replied with a tense expression, “I have my reasons…”
“Most folks here have their reasons. Hoping to strike it rich with a good artifact from a dungeon.”
Frank sighed, “Let me give you some advice. Forget those foolish dreams. This place is hell.”
Zeke inwardly scoffed at the familiar script.
‘These con artists all have the same lines.’
They pretend to be experienced adventurers, warning newcomers that the reality is different from their expectations, shaking their confidence.
When the newcomer shows signs of doubt, they generously offer to take them under their wing.
They promise to show them a beginner-friendly dungeon, letting them decide after seeing it for themselves.
While there were genuine guides with good intentions, nine out of ten were scammers.
If you were lucky, you’d only lose your gear. Most ended up sold into slavery or used as bait for monsters.
After a few minutes of chatter, Frank offered, “Words aren’t enough. Alright, I’ll do you a favor and let you join our party.”
The bartender, polishing glasses, shook his head and commented, “Spiderhand, always sticking your neck out. Newbies never appreciate it.”
Frank smiled wryly, “I’m not doing it for thanks. It’s my creed.”
The bartender shook his head, exasperated.
‘What a load of crap.’
In a past life, after being expelled from the academy, Zeke had wandered until he ended up in Argos.
Much like now, he had been naive and fell for a scam guide, signing an unfair contract and enduring countless hardships.
Unaware of Zeke’s inner mockery, Frank gestured for him to follow to his office.
Zeke trailed behind like a lost puppy.
Frank led him to a shabby building in a back alley and descended into the basement.
It was furnished with a worn-out sofa, a desk, and a chair.
Frank retrieved a cheap whiskey from a cabinet, poured it into a chipped glass, and handed it to Zeke.
“Have a drink and rest here tonight. We’ll head to the dungeon at dawn.”
“How many are in the party?”
“We’re keeping it light tomorrow, about five of us.”
Zeke downed the whiskey, knowing it was laced with drugs.
As expected, he collapsed, and Frank smirked.
“Clueless fool. Sweet dreams. You’ll need them for the rough days ahead.”
Frank tied Zeke’s hands and feet with rope and left the office.
Once alone, Zeke’s eyes snapped open.
The ropes were poorly tied, and he easily slipped his wrists free by dislocating his fingers.
“Sloppy work. But then again, what do you expect from traffickers?”
Zeke rummaged through Frank’s office, searching for information on the organization.
He found crumpled transaction receipts scattered in a drawer.
Examining them, Zeke realized Frank was a subcontractor for a trafficking network.
“A subcontractor of a subcontractor.”
While the Nostra family ran the operation, the lower levels were handled by subcontractors, making it hard to gauge the organization’s full scale.
Zeke planned to start from the bottom in Argos and work his way up before moving to Helly.
He re-tied the ropes around his limbs and waited for dawn.
Hours later, Frank returned with a few other men.
“Trust me, this one’s top quality.”
“Shut up. I’ll judge for myself.”
A burly man with tattoos approached the unconscious Zeke on the sofa.
After inspecting Zeke’s face and body, he nodded.
“Not bad for something Spiderhand brought in.”
“See? I only bring in the best.”
“Shut it. You know how much trouble I got into with the boss over that defective batch last time.”
“Hey, that wasn’t my fault. How was I supposed to know the guy had a lung disease? I’m no healer.”
The tattooed man pulled out a wad of cash, counted four bills, and handed them to Frank.
Frank protested, “For quality like this, I should get ten bills! Come on, be reasonable.”
The tattooed man, annoyed, added two more bills.
Frank pocketed the money with a sly grin.
The tattooed man signaled his men to load Zeke onto a cart.
As they were about to leave, he turned to Frank.
“Spider, you’re coming too. The boss wants to see you.”
“Me? Why?”
“There’s a big job, and you’re going to be the guide.”
Frank beamed, rubbing his hands together eagerly.
“Of course! The boss knows talent when he sees it. I’m the best guide there is!”
“Stop yapping and follow.”
The tattooed man drove the cart, carrying Zeke, towards the outskirts of Argos, heading for the downtown area.
The place was a haven for outlaws, drug addicts, and fences who had drifted in from the continent.
A carriage carrying Zeke made its way toward one of the buildings.
As soon as the carriage arrived, other gang members lowered an iron gate, sealing off the entrance completely.
Once Zeke was hauled out of the carriage, a tattooed man addressed the gang members.
“Let’s take him upstairs. The boss needs to see him and give a rating. Spider, you come too.”
Following the tattooed man’s orders, the gang members hoisted Zeke over their shoulders and followed him upstairs.
The tattooed man entered the room where the boss was.
The room was thick with cigarette smoke.
Frank entered with a tense expression.
A large ashtray on the desk was piled high with cigarette butts, and behind it, a gaunt old man was puffing away as he reviewed some documents.
The tattooed man approached the old man.
“Boss, we’ve brought him.”
The old man looked up from his papers and stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray.
Frank stood nervously in front of the old man.
“It’s an honor to be summoned, Boss.”
The old man gave Frank a look, and understanding its meaning, Frank sat on the sofa nearby.
The old man glanced at the unconscious Zeke and asked the tattooed man, “What’s this?”
The tattooed man replied, “He seemed like good quality, so I brought him for you to rate.”
The old man got up and approached Zeke, lifting his eyelids and checking his teeth.
He nodded approvingly.
“Send him to the Baron. That pervert will like him.”
“Understood.”
With a nod from the tattooed man, the gang members took Zeke away.
The old man returned to his seat and gestured for Frank to come closer.
Frank quickly obliged.
“Frank, how long have you been in this line of work?”
“This is my fifteenth year, Boss.”
“I hear you’re good with words.”
“Just give me the task, and I’ll handle it.”
The old man scrutinized Frank’s eyes before opening a drawer and pulling out a document, which he tossed in front of Frank.
“It’s a big job. If you succeed, the pay will be substantial.”
Frank carefully opened the document and began to read, his eyes widening in shock.
“This… this is…?”
It was unlike the usual kidnapping jobs. This was a covert assassination mission, luring people into a dungeon with high-risk monsters.
The target was a noble, which complicated matters.
The old man lit another cigarette, and the tattooed man helped him with the lighter.
The old man exhaled a cloud of smoke and spoke.
“He’s a central noble, having some succession issues. Though he’s a country noble, he owns quite a bit of land and mines. The heir is coming for a dungeon tour, and we’ve been hired for the job.”
Frank, sweating, asked, “I just need to lure him into the dungeon?”
“We’ll set up the point. You just need to convince the target there’s a better dungeon. The underlings will have no choice but to follow if a high-status brat insists. Just bring the target to the point, and it’s done.”
Frank swallowed hard.
If he refused, the ruthless old man would likely kill him and find another guide.
‘Damn it, I wondered why they called me. This is a nightmare.’
Refusing meant death, and accepting could lead to a deadly cleanup later. The only chance of survival was to complete the job, get paid, and disappear.
As Frank hesitated, about to speak, a thud sounded from outside. The boss gestured, and the tattooed man went to check.
A loud crash followed, and the door slid open.
The tattooed man staggered in, bleeding, and collapsed.
Frank jumped up in shock.
“What the hell!”
As Frank stood there, stunned, someone stepped over the fallen tattooed man and entered the room.
It was the seemingly naive young man who had been brought in as merchandise earlier.
He looked at the old man and spoke.
“Long time no see, Blood Demon.”