Arc#3 Chapter 41: Side Hustle (Patreon)

[author's note]

Hello, dear patron.

Just a few announcements.

For the first two, I go more in-depth in my latest chap in RR or SH, but I'll just speed-run it for you guys.

• I rewrote Arc#1 Chapter 1.  Nothing changed. I just took out a bunch of unnecessary descriptions and fluff. From 5.4k words, it went down to 4k. I also polished it up a bit. You can read it if you want. Or don't.
• Y'know that part back in Arc#2 that a lot of people hate? The part where Reivan gets amnesia for a bit? I'm gonna do a hard rewrite for that.
• From the last patreon chapter, the term "Etherblade Arts" has been changed to "Aetherblade Arts". The reason for this change is that after rereading the chapter, I had an epiphany that Aetherblade was cooler. So there. Changed.
• My backlog has now grown to five chapters, so I'm thinking about opening up the next Patreon tier in a couple of days. [The Mortal Tier], which will be 3$ for three chapters for now. The goal is for me to have such a massive backlog that I can offer maybe 5-7 chapters for 3$ — of course, this is after I've opened up every single tier I had in mind: Knight, Ascendent, Transcendent, and Archon.

Anyway, that's all the news. I just didn't know if some of you still checked in on RR/SH so I included this here. Wouldn't want you to be out of the loop.

[/author's note]

###

Reivan roughly dried his hair off with a towel, having just finished a quick shower. He then threw a glance at the orange sky outside his room's window. He'd spent quite a bit of time watching the squires train. And even after that, Donovan drilled him with some "basic" skills and movements — all of which, he must commit to muscle memory during his free time.

'It'll be easy with [Glimpse of Eternity]...'

A confident grin bloomed on his face, anticipating the look of shock on the old bastard's face once he showed off how fast he mastered the so-called basics. After chuckling to himself a little, Reivan shook his head free of idle thoughts.

After all, he had a very important task tonight. Its importance was paramount, for success would not only net him a substantial amount of personal wealth, but also contribute significantly to his father's ambitions.

'It should be about time for Valter to pick me up.'

And indeed it was.

A handsome man with slicked-back purple hair suddenly appeared behind Reivan. "Good evening, Your Highness. I have come as instructed. I hope you did not wait long."

"Your timing is impeccable. Anyway, let's go."

Using Valter's black puddle, they instantly appeared in front of the palace's warp gate, which they then passed through to arrive at their destination.

The westernmost inhabited area within Aizen's borders: Worgon Outpost.

#####

In a dilapidated warehouse filled with empty crates and barrels, where the roof let a bit of the rain drip through countless holes, Reivan and Valter met up with a group of people dressed in somewhat ragged attires.

Quite frankly, they all looked like homeless bums — an extinct creature in mainland Aizen, but not in Worgon Outpost.

Though their attire was worn and their appearances unremarkable, every one of these men was, in fact, an active-duty knight. Their bodies, honed by torturous training, lay concealed beneath layers of dust, yet their commanding presence and unwavering gazes betrayed their true nature as professional warriors.

""We greet His Highness, Prince Reivan.""

"Good evening, sirs." Reivan greeted them back with a smile and a salute. "Thank you for agreeing to participate in my little project. I'm aware that you are all on semi-long breaks for various reasons, yet here you are. I cannot thank you enough."

"There is no need for you to waste your gratitude on us, Your Highness."

"It's not like my wife will give birth this very instant. She can wait!"

"Yes! It is our pleasure to enact the royal family's profound will."

'Well, it's not really profound. We're just gonna beat some bad guys up. Coerce them. Then then rob some even bigger bad guys. And then we'll have our mole on the inside take over the whole organization. Oh, wait. Speaking of the mole...'

Making a mental note to speed up the operation so that a knight wouldn't have to miss the moment of his kid's birth, Reivan turned toward his guardian knight.

"Valter, are you sure the mole was contacted properly? I was told that communications with them are cut off for years at a time so their covers aren't blown while infiltrating the republic."

"There is no need to worry, Your Highness. I personally visited the spy. They have been informed, and have already started making preparations of their own."

"Great." Reivan's smile grew bigger.

"That said, they will not step foot on Aizen's soil for a while. Apparently, they wish to round up more of the organization's top brass, so it will take him two to three weeks."

"That's fine. In the meantime, we can prepare for their arrival."

Aside from the Valter, there were ten other knights in the warehouse — a numerically small force for what they intended to do. However, since they were all official knights, it was actually overkill.

"Just another friendly reminder for everyone." Reivan maintained a smile as he spoke respectfully, gazing at each of the knights in turn. "Our purpose is not to annihilate, but to subjugate. We also can't let them foster suspicions that we're affiliated with Aizen, so you cannot use etherblade arts and your Soul Armaments. As for Qi and mana augmentation, there is no need, since nobody in a gang is strong enough to warrant such force. All the capable people are either in the military or in large criminal organizations. As such, kindly stick to the basic stuff. And try not to look too strong."

""By your will, Your Highness.""

"Don't call me that for now. Just refer to me as 'Boss' or 'Sir'. I'll be wearing a ring to disguise my appearance too, so don't do anything to blow my cover."

""Yes, sir.""

"Very good. Valter will be joining us as well, but he'll act as my shadow. Just in case. Know that most of the work will still be done by you guys. And I'll be fighting a bit too. Understood?"

""Understood!""

"Good. Let's begin."

Reivan turned around and led the group out of the abandoned warehouse.

'I can't wait to be rich again.'

#####

"Tsk. Fuck this rain..." Doneo spat on the ground as he grimaced at the dark sky. He'd wanted to go out and pick some pockets, but practically no one would be out and about in this weather.

With no other choice, he'd have to stay in his gang's hideout where the rest of his associates were idling away, playing cards or dice.

'Damn. I didn't go all the way to Aizen to live this kinda life...'

Doneo's greatest misfortune was getting hooked on gambling. With big dreams, he'd crossed the gulf between Arkhan and Aizen, crossing the border to the greatest nation in the continent to sell his wares.

Only to lose all his savings in a game of dice — well, multiple games of dice throughout the span of a month.

With no family to return to back home, no money to go anywhere else, and no ability to make something of himself, Doneo had no other choice but to turn to a life of petty crime to survive.

Of course, he knew his limits. He stayed away from the big gangs, knowing it was only a matter of time before Aizen stomped them flat. Staying in a small-time gang doing small-time crimes was enough for him — especially since the biggest punishment he'd suffer from it was deportation or a few nights in a slammer.

It definitely wasn't because the bigger gangs wouldn't let him join.

"Hey, Donny! Come play some cards!" Conin, one of his colleagues, waved at him as he headed inside the worn-out house that was their hideout.

Doneo shook his head with a sad smirk. "Can't. Got no money."

"Just pay us back next time!"

"Works for me!"

At the end of the day, Doneo couldn't really stop the urge to gamble. He wouldn't feel alive otherwise. And so, even if it meant going further into debt, he made his way over to the table where three other gang members sat, waiting for the cards to be dealt.

'I just need to win!'

He'd been losing a lot lately, so he felt that it was just about time for him to catch a lucky break. Convinced that whatever god was up there would let him win a few games to even out the losses, Doneo took his seat around the table and rubbed his hands in anticipation of the money he was going to win.

"Hey! Who the fuck are you!?"

He almost jumped out of his own skin when Conin suddenly stood up and bellowed at someone near the entrance. Doneo turned around to look at whoever Conin was staring so menacingly at, and saw what seemed to be a bum in tattered clothing standing in the doorway — which didn't have a door anymore since the gang members didn't know how to fix the broken hinges.

"Sorry." The strange man spoke in broken Arkhanian, with a clear and baritone voice that easily filled the small space. "It started raining suddenly. I just wanted a place to let it pass. I'll try not to disturb you, I promise."

"FUCK OFF!"

The furious Conin threw the deck of cards he'd been shuffling onto the table and stomped over to the beggar with a fierce expression. No doubt, he was glad for the opportunity to vent his stress on someone weaker.

'Uh, something doesn't feel right about this...'

Doneo didn't know why, but he disliked the idea of needlessly provoking the man.

Maybe it was the fact that the bum was a head taller than any of them in addition to being quite muscular. Or how he didn't seem scared in the slightest, even with a gang member marching over to him. Perhaps it was the fact that the beggar wasn't wet at all despite supposedly getting caught in the sudden downpour.

It could have also been a combination of everything.

In any case, Doneo was of the mind to just let the weird stranger take shelter from the rain.

Unfortunately, his fellow gang member had other ideas, throwing a punch at the bum's grungy face.

"I told you to fuck... off!"

Although amateurish even to Doneo's eyes, his colleague had thrown the punch with all of his weight, seemingly intending to teach the hobo a hard lesson life.

However, the vagrant effortlessly evaded the blow and swiftly retaliated with a powerful right hook, landing it squarely on the enraged gang member's abdomen.

"UGH!" Conin's eyes bulged as his breath was forcefully expelled from his lungs. His knees gave way, and he crumpled to the ground, his body limp and kneeling.

Sealing the fate of the fallen gangster, the bum's leg sliced through the air, landing a resounding strike against Conin's cheek.

Motionless, like a discarded puppet, Conin lay sprawled on the ground. Everyone watching was somehow convinced that he'd stay like that for the next few hours.

"Wha..." Doneo's jaw dropped as he watched. Conin may have been a small-time crook, but when it came to fights and brawls, he'd been the most dependable member of their ragtag bunch.

It took a few moments for the other gang members to react, but they eventually all bolted up and equipped themselves with various makeshift weapons. One had a pipe, another had a wooden stick as a makeshift club, and another took out a knuckleduster. As for the others, they picked up the bottles of alcohol on the ground.

Doneo still had a sinking feeling in his chest but he also took out a worn-out leather sack with a few rocks inside — his best attempt at making a sap, or as some may call it, a blackjack.

With the sound of heavy rainfall masking the loud beating of their hearts, the gang members prepared to surround the lone bum but had to stop in their tracks when two more men wearing tattered clothes made their presence known from behind the first.

'We're fucked.'

Doneo was instinctively aware of this sad fact.

He wanted to run away really badly. Unfortunately, a broken door made it hard to keep warm at night, so the gang members had boarded up the windows and other entrances to prevent the cold night air from blowing in too much. Because of this, the only way in or out of the hideout was the entrance with three very scary men blocking the way.

"Where is your leader?" The first bum asked, in English this time.

Doneo and the gang members, who'd all pretty much given up on the notion of fighting back, looked at each other with strange expressions.

'We don't have a leader...'

Their little group had formed simply because being alone was a masochistic endeavor. As for leaders and whatnot, they hadn't even thought of appointing one. Conin had been the best fighter, and as such, should have been a candidate for leader. However, the man had a tendency to rush headlong into trouble, and the others didn't want to follow his lead for the most part.

"Where is your leader?" the first bum repeated, his tone much more frigid.

"Th-the thing is..." Doneo spoke up, following the vagrant's lead in speaking in English. Luckily, he'd had ample time to practice a bit of eloquence. That said, the act itself made him feel as if he'd just consumed a lifetime's worth of courage.

"Speak. Quickly."

"Ah, yes! We, uh... We don't have one... A leader, that is..."

"You don't...?"

"Yes..."

The three intruders shared a few looks of utter confusion for a moment before the first one spoke again, pointing a finger at Doneo.

"You're the leader now."

Doneo choked. Him? The leader?

"If you understand, say yes."

"Y-yes. Alright..." Doneo nodded, resolved to do whatever it took to appease these incredibly dangerous men.

"Good." The scary hobo nodded before turning around. "All of you, follow us. Carry the unconscious one."

Doneo watched as the three bums walked right into the heavy rain.

"We suggest you don't try to escape. We are much faster than you."

'I don't doubt that at all.'

Doneo scratched the back of his head, letting the weapon in his hand drop to the floor. He felt that it was useless now. With a heavy sigh, he turned back to look at his other gang members.

"So, uh. Let's go...?"

#####

"Sir, these are all the small-time gang members around these parts."

Reivan nodded at the knight's report. As his gaze followed a group of men carrying an unconscious colleague into the warehouse, he hopped off the stack of empty crates he'd been sitting on. He silently landed on the ground like a cat before practicing the Arkhanian lines in his head one last time.

Once he felt confident enough, he spoke in seemingly fluent Arkhanian to all the petty crooks gathered in front of him.

"Good evening, shitheads. I'm glad you could make it despite the horrible weather we're having. In any case, let's just cut to the chase..."

Combing back his fake black hair, Reivan's equally fake blue eyes scanned the confused hoodlums.

"From now on, all of you work for me."