The Hunter of the Low Streets (1)
“If the guards find out a mercenary with a sword and shield killed a city resident in an inn, they won’t just stand by… Ugh!”
Thud—Crash!
A hand axe whizzed past the innkeeper, embedding itself in the wall. Dalen scratched the back of his neck.
“Ah, my apologies. You shouted so suddenly, I thought you were a wizard casting a spell.”
“Ugh… Ugh…”
The innkeeper clung to the counter, his legs trembling. Drool dripped from his mouth, a testament to his shock.
Clang!
Dalen casually tossed aside the dagger he was holding and examined his palm.
The skin was torn, but the muscles were mostly intact, thanks to his skill adjustments and a strength coefficient of 23.
He deftly wrapped a bandage around his hand, then approached the still-shaking innkeeper.
“So, what were you trying to say?”
“Uh, uh, well…”
Why can’t he speak now? He was so mouthy just a moment ago.
In truth, the innkeeper likely had no intention of calling the guards. Running a back-alley inn, he wouldn’t be on friendly terms with them.
More likely, he was worried about getting caught up in drug deals or illegal activities.
“You mentioned something about reporting. Were you really going to report me, or was it just a threat?”
Thunk!
Dalen pulled the axe from the wall as he spoke.
With his massive build, expressionless face, and the bloodstains on his armor, Dalen seemed monstrous to the innkeeper.
“Eek!”
The innkeeper’s legs gave out, and he collapsed to the floor. Dalen looked down at him with a crooked smile.
“I think it was just a threat. A way to extort money from me to keep your mouth shut, so you wouldn’t end up in jail as an accomplice.”
Dalen hooked the hand axe onto his belt and tossed something from his pocket to the innkeeper.
The innkeeper’s already pale face turned even whiter.
“A… silver badge!”
It was Dalen’s mercenary badge.
Even in a city with millions, the social order here was barely medieval.
In this world, proving one’s identity was directly tied to authority. A society where social classes were clearly defined.
And a silver-badged mercenary was akin to the middle class.
A status that didn’t fit in the back alleys of the bronze district, where the innkeeper had assumed Dalen was just a lowly bronze-badged mercenary.
“With eyes, you must have seen clearly. I was unarmed, and it was that thug who attacked me first. Yet, as the innkeeper, you sided with them instead of protecting your guest.”
“I didn’t know, sir! I truly didn’t know!”
“From what I see, you seem to be in cahoots with those thugs.”
Dalen stroked his stubbled chin.
“What do you think the guards would do if they found out? I’m tempted to go and file a formal complaint right now.”
“Please, have mercy…”
The innkeeper desperately clutched at Dalen’s coat. Dalen gently shook him off, a sly grin on his face.
“Of course, if I were to find an ownerless purse on the street, I might just forget about today’s incident.”
The innkeeper’s face turned ashen as Dalen extended his palm.
Now, who was extorting whom?
“You should know who you’re threatening.”
Though he’d never seen the game’s ending, Dalen was a veteran player.
He’d been threatened in the lawless back alleys of the bronze district more times than he could count.
The first few times, he was surprised that NPCs would threaten him out of the blue.
But after that, he turned the tables, extorting money from them instead.
“Still, for an innkeeper, that was quite a haul.”
The purse he’d received from the merchant was now more than double its original size.
Not all of it was silver coins, some were copper, but it didn’t matter. The weight of the purse in his pocket was a comforting feeling.
Plus, he’d looted valuables from the thugs, which could fetch at least ten silver coins if sold well.
With new skills and unexpected profits, Dalen hummed a tune as he arrived at an inn near the mercenary guild.
“Sword and Shield”
Dalen entered the pristine five-story stone building.
“How long will you be staying?”
“A week for now. I’m a silver-badged mercenary.”
“With a silver badge, breakfast and lunch are complimentary, but dinner is extra. The total cost is seven shillings.”
The Sword and Shield Inn was partnered with the guild, making it quite pricey. Even with a silver badge discount, a night’s stay with two meals cost a silver coin.
Feeling the purse lighten again, Dalen sighed softly.
“It’s worth the money.”
The bronze district was dangerous, especially for newcomers to the city.
Choosing the wrong inn could mean waking up to find yourself robbed by thugs in league with the innkeeper.
A safe place to rest was essential, no matter the cost.
The staff weighed the silver coin and handed him a key with a professional smile.
“Room 412. It’s on the fourth floor, down the left hallway.”
Dalen took the key and headed to his room.
Once inside, he unpacked everything. He removed his armor and placed his weapons by the bedside.
It was the first time in weeks he could truly relax. In the wilderness or shabby inns, he had to sleep in his armor.
You never knew when a bandit’s arrow or a goblin’s stone might come flying.
Clunk.
He opened the window, letting in a cool breeze. The night air was crisp and dry as winter approached.
“Whew.”
Sitting on the bed, Dalen began planning his next steps.
Up until now, his journey had been just the tutorial. The real game began here, in the labyrinth city of Falcion.
This was where things got serious. The world was inching closer to destruction.
He had to explore the labyrinth to obtain the Stone of Wishes while simultaneously preventing the world’s end.
The daunting difficulty he’d only faced through a monitor was now his reality. A chill ran down his spine.
“Survival is the top priority.”
The labyrinth and the apocalypse meant nothing if he couldn’t stay alive.
To survive in a world racing towards its end, he needed to grow stronger, which required money and experience.
For now, money was the more pressing need.
His current sword and axe were worn, and his armor was shabby. Even if he couldn’t get a powerful relic, he needed at least a decent set of armor.
With just a handful of silver coins, he wouldn’t last a month in a proper inn before being kicked out.
“And just visiting the labyrinth entrance will cost even more.”
Unlike the bronze district, where a simple inspection sufficed, the guards at the entrance to the labyrinth in the silver district didn’t let just anyone through.
To pass through the gates of the silver district, a hefty tax was required, paid in gold coins, not silver.
“And even if I had the money, rushing into the labyrinth would be suicide.”
The labyrinth was perilous. Entering it hastily would only lead to a pointless death.
Even a silver-badged, or gold-badged mercenary could become monster fodder in an instant. That’s the nature of the labyrinth.
This was no longer a polygon world behind a monitor. Every battle was a gamble with his life.
He needed to maximize his chances and prepare thoroughly.
“I’ll have to make the most of the successor option.”
He’d gained a D-rank skill from a single corpse.
The bonus stats were equivalent to leveling up twice.
Throughout countless playthroughs, Dalen’s character corpses were scattered across the continent.
If he could recover them all, his power would grow beyond anything he’d achieved before.
“Stopping the apocalypse and reaching the labyrinth’s end isn’t impossible.”
His goals were set.
First, money.
Second, corpses.
“To tackle both, I’ll need to take on some special requests.”
Most mercenary guild requests were predictable.
In rural areas, it was hunting wild animals or goblins; in the city, escorting merchants or protecting important figures.
Dalen needed a request that allowed him to recover corpses and offered a high reward.
“I’ll have to head back to the back alleys.”
And Dalen knew exactly where to find such requests.
The next day, Dalen had a late lunch and left the inn.
The sun was high, and the main street in front of the inn was bustling with carts, carriages, and passersby.
Watching the throngs of people on the wide street, Dalen felt a strange sense of nostalgia.
The sprawling cityscape reminded Dalen of his hometown. Everyone was engrossed in their own affairs, too busy to notice anything around them.
Leaving the bustling main street behind, Dalen slipped into an alleyway. Even in the Bronze District, the backstreets weren’t as perilous during the day as they were at night.
Of course, venturing too deep would be a different story, but that wasn’t a concern for now.
He passed a sign that read “Philoponne’s Orchard” and turned right at a well where a line of scruffy-looking people waited.
Navigating past a rare five-story building, he turned left and crossed a low stone bridge over a small stream.
The Bronze District was the largest area in the city. Its labyrinthine alleys could be endlessly confusing, but Dalen moved with confidence.
He had traversed this place countless times in the game, so he could find his way without a map.
Even though the city had expanded in reality, as long as he used the major landmarks as guides, he had no trouble finding his way.
After about thirty minutes of weaving through the alleys, Dalen finally arrived at a small tavern.
[Crow’s Nest]
[Hours: 6 PM - 4 AM]
This was his go-to spot for information and the base of a broker who dealt in underworld contracts.
Jingle—
The door wasn’t locked. Dalen stepped inside the tavern slowly.
The tables and chairs were neatly arranged. Further in, a bar counter stood with shelves packed full of bottles.
The ceiling lights, powered by magic stones, cast a gentle glow without the need for fire.
It was an ambiance that seemed out of place in the back alleys of the Bronze District.
“Anyone here?”
No response. It was before opening hours, so there were no patrons, nor any sign of the owner or bartender.
Dalen made his way around the bar to a back door in the corner. His heightened senses detected a presence behind it.
Someone was waiting quietly on the other side. Great, he thought, just what I need—an uninvited guest.
Before any misunderstandings could deepen, Dalen knocked on the door in a specific pattern.
Knock. Knock-knock-knock. Knock. Knock-knock.
A soft sigh came from the other side.
Then came the sound of locks being undone, and the door creaked open.
“How many times do I have to tell you? Don’t come here outside of business hours unless it’s really urgent…”
The woman with black hair and eyes stopped mid-sentence when she saw Dalen standing there.
“…You’re a new face, aren’t you?”