Episode 49
Zeke and Manuel’s squad approached the main production camp of the Favela Cartel.
Seeing the smoke rising beyond the jungle, Zeke realized they were close and turned to Manuel.
“Wait here.”
Manuel was taken aback. “What? Wait here? What do you mean?”
Having witnessed Zeke single-handedly annihilate an entire pack of werewolves, Manuel had grown considerably more respectful.
Zeke stood up. “I’ll go in alone.”
He added, “Your job is to report what happened up there.”
With that, Zeke disappeared into the jungle, leaving Manuel and the others standing there, bewildered.
Moments later, a massive explosion echoed from the camp.
Startled, Manuel looked at his men. “What on earth is going on?”
“What should we do, Captain?” one of them asked.
After a moment of hesitation, Manuel gestured to his team. “Damn it. Let’s head to the perimeter and see what’s happening. We need something to report.”
Leaving Manuel’s squad behind, Zeke advanced toward the camp, freely using his shadow step technique.
“I was suffocating, holding back my power,” he thought.
In his current undercover situation, he couldn’t unleash his full strength. He planned to dismantle the camp using southern martial arts, assassination techniques, and his elemental sword, while keeping his dragon-slaying skills sealed.
“A cartel camp like this is nothing,” he mused.
In his previous life, he often attacked camps barehanded, risking his life each time. It was no wonder Kaishir had said Zeke danced on the edge of death.
Zeke pressed himself against the thick wooden palisade of the camp. He pulled out a simple claymore from his inventory and summoned the power of fire.
Whoosh!
The sword ignited in flames. Zeke swung the fiery blade at the palisade.
Boom!
The force was greater than expected, collapsing not just the palisade but the surrounding structures as well.
“I need to control my strength a bit,” he thought.
While it was easy to destroy everything indiscriminately, he had a purpose here and needed to be cautious.
“Attack! We’re under attack!”
“There’s a mage! Watch out for magic!”
They mistook his flaming sword for magic. Taking advantage of the chaos, Zeke slipped further into the camp, heading toward the central area guarded by the Favela Cartel members. There, they refined soma leaves into powder.
Before reaching the facility, a group blocked his path.
“Intruder!”
About a dozen cartel members rushed at him. Zeke pulled out daggers from his inventory.
Swish!
He hurled the daggers at the oncoming attackers.
Thud!
The daggers struck their foreheads with precision, and they fell instantly. With hundreds of cheap daggers in his inventory, Zeke didn’t worry about running out as he continued to throw them at the cartel members.
“Ugh!”
Soon, all the attackers lay dead, daggers embedded in their foreheads or hearts.
Zeke dashed toward the manufacturing facility.
Boom!
A loud noise approached him. To his surprise, several tanks powered by magical engines were charging at him.
“Impressive. They managed to get these expensive things,” he thought.
In the central continent, knights or high-level battle mages were preferred over magical weapons due to their cost and maintenance. But the cartel, lacking skilled personnel but flush with money, was a major client of the Magic Tower and the Nirvana family.
Zeke drew Bahamut, his sword, as the tanks, clad in iron, bore down on him. In his past life, he would have had to avoid them, but now things were different.
His sword was enveloped in the power of wind. A technique often used by his master, the Hero King Kaishir, unfolded from Zeke’s blade.
Elemental Sword
Wind’s Domain
Tempest Blade
The sword, imbued with the will of the fierce wind, slashed toward the tanks.
Whoosh!
A massive storm erupted around Zeke.
Boom!
The tanks, which seemed unstoppable, were swept up and overturned by the storm.
Crash!
Not only were they overturned, but the storm’s force tore off their armor.
“Help! Spare us!”
The cartel members inside the tanks crawled out, trembling with fear, as the storm Zeke created lifted the tanks and surrounding facilities into the sky.
“Wow. That’s something,” Zeke marveled at his own handiwork.
He hadn’t realized the power during training, but seeing it in action was astonishing. The camp’s production facilities were obliterated in an instant.
The cartel members caught in the storm screamed in terror.
“A demon has appeared!”
Zeke silenced one of the screaming men with a swift slash and opened his map to check his location.
“Let’s see. Where was the secret passage in this camp again?”
This camp was one of the many he had raided in his past life. Back then, he had captured one of the Favela Cartel’s bosses here and extracted valuable information.
He had learned that the Favela Cartel originally started as a band of pirates.
Recalling the location of the secret passage, Zeke headed toward a cave at the back of the camp.
As he approached the cave, a few cartel members aimed crossbows at him. But Zeke’s sword was faster.
Before they could fire, their heads hit the ground.
“You should’ve shot as soon as you aimed. Your training is a mess,” Zeke muttered, picking up one of the crossbows and entering the cave.
Inside, more cartel members awaited.
“Intruder, ugh!”
The first one he encountered was silenced by a bolt to the chest before he could finish his warning. Aiming for the lungs, Zeke ensured he couldn’t scream and quickly ended his suffering with a slash.
Zeke continued through the cave, eliminating every cartel member he encountered, until he found the secret passage.
He descended into the passage, which connected to an old mine.
Activating his Dragon’s Eye skill, Zeke scanned the tunnel.
“Was it like this before?”
The walls and floor were in surprisingly good condition for a simple mine tunnel. In his past life, he had been too focused on his mission to notice such details.
Checking his map, Zeke pinpointed the location of the fleeing cartel boss and leisurely made his way through the tunnel.
“The more I look, the less it seems like a mine. More like an ancient ruin…”
As he pondered, something flew toward him.
Swish!
Zeke caught an arrow aimed at his forehead. But it wasn’t over. Suddenly, sharp spikes emerged from the arrow shaft, piercing his palm.
[Detected: Black Mamba’s venom.]
[Effect of ‘Immunity to All Poisons’ negates the venom.]
Black Mamba’s venom was a deadly poison with no antidote. The arrow was a trap, designed to kill knights who arrogantly caught arrows to show off their skills. It was a southern assassination technique Zeke had used often in his past life.
As Zeke discarded the arrow, someone emerged from the shadows.
“What? I thought you were a knight, but you’re just a kid. What a waste of expensive poison.”
Had Zeke not neutralized the venom, he would have bled from every orifice and died within five minutes.
A man, covered in thick hair, slowly approached Zeke.
“Who sent you?”
Zeke looked at the man and replied, “Paulo Santos.”
The man flinched, startled that Zeke knew his name, and took a step back.
“Who are you? How do you know my name? And why aren’t you dead?”
Zeke advanced toward Paulo, who, sensing danger, turned to flee.
But outrunning Zeke, who had mastered the Gale Step, was impossible.
Swish!
Zeke intercepted Paulo and drove a dagger into his thigh.
“Aaagh!”
Paulo screamed, clutching his wounded leg. Zeke tripped him, sending him sprawling to the ground.
“Paulo, I have a few questions for you,” Zeke said.
In response, Paulo spat at him. Zeke easily dodged the spit and pressed his foot down on the dagger embedded in Paulo’s thigh.
“Aaagh!”
As the blade sank deeper, Paulo writhed in agony. Zeke drew another dagger and stabbed it into Paulo’s shoulder.
“Ugh!”
As Paulo trembled with fear and pain, Zeke spoke again.
“Paulo, I know you’re an officer in the Favela Cartel. And I’m well aware that the Favela Cartel is just a bunch of South Sea pirates.”
Paulo’s head shot up in shock at Zeke’s words.
“W-what are you talking about?”
“Don’t pretend to be surprised. If you were an actor, you’d starve.”
Paulo’s fear deepened, his face paling.
Zeke drew a new dagger and held it to Paulo’s throat. “If you want to live, listen to me. You’re coming with me to McCain. Tell the boss everything about the Favela Cartel. Do that, and I’ll let you live.”
Paulo’s eyes widened in disbelief. “M-McCain? Did Don Juan send you?”
Zeke pressed the dagger closer. “Watch your mouth. Throwing around the boss’s name like that.”
“We… we’ve never messed with the McCain Cartel! We respected each other’s territories!”
“And yet, you lot are sniffing around the Syndicate’s distribution network?”
“T-that’s…”
Zeke’s casual mention of information only known to high-ranking members of the Favela Cartel left Paulo flustered.
Zeke pressed on. “The boss has no intention of letting you live. He plans to launch a full-scale assault until the Favela is nothing but ashes, wiping out every last filthy pirate. Got it?”
Paulo’s eyes darted around, searching for an escape.
Suddenly, he moved swiftly, retrieving a hidden weapon from beneath his shoe and flinging it at Zeke.
“Ugh!”
It was poison powder, and Zeke took a direct hit, collapsing to the side.
Taking advantage of the moment, Paulo limped away, fleeing.
Zeke writhed on the ground, clutching his face in agony. “Aaargh!”
He groaned and rolled until Paulo disappeared down the corridor. Only then did he rise to his feet.
“That should do it. Foolish guy, he must’ve forgotten I wasn’t affected by Black Mamba poison earlier.”
Zeke had sought out Paulo to feed him information about the McCain Cartel. For both the McCain and Favela Cartels to fall, a fierce war between them was necessary. Zeke aimed to exploit that conflict.
‘If they believe Don Juan is planning an all-out attack, the Favela won’t sit idly by.’
Zeke intended to slip between the two as they clashed. He brushed off the poison powder and turned away.
“Now, to wrap things up…”
Just then, a chilling sensation crept up his spine.
Whoosh!
Something flew toward Zeke.
Swish!
He rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding the attack.
‘A strike imbued with aura.’
It wasn’t a southern style attack but one from the central continent.
He turned to see several figures in black, swords drawn, surrounding him.
Zeke gritted his teeth and drew his own sword. He knew these foes all too well.
“Come on, you damned imperial hounds.”