Arc#3 Chapter 47: Cleanup (Patreon)

[Author's Note]

Whoah. I was so busy with work, so I couldn't check that often, but it seems I got quite a few new patrons!

Hello there!

Thanks for the support, and I won't bore you with mushy stuff. Here's the chapter!

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"Good evening, gentlemen. My name is Ken, and I represent the force responsible for making a mess of things here. Oh, and I am also your Boss now. Let’s make a lot of money together, okay?"

Reivan smiled with his eyes while inwardly marveling at his ability to spout bullshit.

‘It’s amazing that everything I just said is technically true.’

That did, however, prevent [Essence of Falsehood] from making it more believable. Which wasn’t all that big of a deal, he hoped, since he’d obtained the ability precisely because he was already good at lying.

“A representative, you say?” The old man that was apparently called Greyviel stroked his beard and briefly examined Reivan from head to toe.

“Yes, I am but a mere representative.” Reivan politely answered, but he naturally didn’t forget to lace his words in venom. “Though not the leader, my position still places me above people who were… threatened to join.”

Greyviel chuckled. “Your respected self’s mouth is quite sharp despite your youth, I see.”

“Yes. It’s almost as sharp as my mind, I’ve been told.”

The old sorcerer’s smile grew wider. “I find myself liking you more and more, Mr. Ken.”

“I’ve also been told that I have an unnatural fixation on wealth, despite not having ever suffered through poverty.”

“I like you even more!”

Greyviel's laughter reverberated through the ruined chamber, filled with numerous lifeless bodies in various states of mutilation.

Reivan took out a chair from his spacial ring, immediately sitting on it. As if remembering something, he looked at two of his knights and shooed them away “You can go now. Hurry.”

“Yes, Boss.”

“Thank you, Boss.”

Once they were gone in a blur, he threw a glance at the trembling woman cowering on one side of the room. “Come closer. This concerns you as well.”

The incredibly beautiful woman appeared startled by suddenly being addressed, but eventually gathered the courage to rise from her seat on the floor and cautiously approach, her long red hair bouncing and swaying with each step.

‘Poor thing…’

While Reivan had only been provided with limited information about the woman, it was more than enough to stir his empathy. Unfortunately, he had a role to play at the moment, so he couldn’t do anything about it.

“As I’ve mentioned, my name is Ken, and I represent the organization behind this whole ordeal.” Reivan crossed his legs and leaned back on his chair. “Now, it’s your turn to introduce yourselves. Formalities are there for a reason, and all that.”

Greyviel stroked his beard and dipped his head a little. “This old one is named Greyviel. Publicly, I own a famous brand of magitech appliance providers, catering mostly to the middle and lower classes.”

“And secretly?”

“Secretly, I manufacture Spell Balls and other magitech weaponry to sell to private forces that are similar to the Silver Cross. I also have a number of patrons involved in the government’s military. The deal is that they get inexpensive weapons to arm their forces instead of ordering from validated manufacturers, and they turn a blind eye to the things I do.”

Reivan stroked his chin, secretly sneering underneath his mask. “And what about the empire?”

Greyviel’s calm smile didn’t falter as he bowed. “Naturally, I have nothing to do with them.”

[Lie Detection] has activated!

“I see. Well, let’s just leave it at that.” Reivan smirked, dismissing the old man with a wave of his hand. He then pointed at the half-dead man who was embedded into the wreckage of a wooden shelf. “And that’s Ballor, I assume.”

“Yes,” Greyviel confirmed with a respectful nod of his head. “He still lives. I held back since I believed it wasn’t in my station to kill him.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to. I actually wouldn’t have minded either way, but I certainly appreciate the gesture.”

Reivan then turned his attention to the gorgeous redhead. “And you are…?”

“I’m…” The woman opened her mouth to say something, hesitated, then finally sighed. “I’m no one of importance. Just another whore.”

“Is that right…?” The masked prince chuckled. “Well, Ms. No-one-of-importance, I’m not wrong in thinking you have a name, yes? If so, I’d like to know.”

The woman seemed to hesitate for a moment, her eyes flickering with a mixture of uncertainty and vulnerability. Finally, she mustered the strength to respond.

"My name... It's… It’s Elsamina," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Elsamina…” Reivan repeated, savoring the sound of her name. “A name that carries its own elegance. Remember, Elsamina, in this place and in my presence, you are not just 'another' anything. You have value, and I intend to treat you as such.”

‘I hope she doesn’t think I’m laying it on too thick…’

Greyviel aside, Reivan really wanted to recruit Elsamina. And if possible, he’d love it if she joined his side willingly, without the need for external implements.

Forced by circumstances she couldn’t have possibly stopped, she got sold off to the scummiest piece of scum to ever scum the face of the earth. And then she’d suffered all her life because of it.

It was a story that was oh-so-familiar to Reivan.

After all, once upon a time, a rat Archon that shouldn’t even be on Earth suddenly popped up, forcing him to put his life on the line to save his beloved little sister. From then on, he’d had to endure unbearable pain while watching the people he cared for look at him in despair.

And as they bore witness to his struggles, they, in turn, suffered in their own ways.

It was only with Zell’s help in reincarnating him as the second prince of Aizen, did Reivan finally get a glimpse of hope and the opportunity for happiness.

Despite some differences in their stories, Reivan saw a reflection of his own past when he looked at her, a mirror of the true fickleness of fate and misfortune. In her, he had found a kindred spirit of sorts.

‘Now, it’s my turn.’

He had been helped once. And now, it would be his turn to help someone out of a similar predicament.

Reivan's desire to recruit Elsamina burned even stronger. He yearned not only to offer her a chance for redemption and freedom but also to witness her reclaim her agency and find solace in a future of her own choosing.

In a sense, Reivan wanted to give the woman in front of him a second life — one that would be the opposite of the first.

That said, Reivan knew that forcing her hand would only perpetuate the cycle of control and manipulation that had plagued her life. Instead, he hoped that by extending his hand in genuine camaraderie and understanding, Elsamina would willingly join his cause.

‘But then again, who would trust a stranger they’d just met? Plus, I don’t really look trustworthy right now…’

If someone were to ask Reivan, someone wearing a black mask to cover the lower half of their face was incredibly suspicious.

‘Fuck. Maybe I shouldn’t have worn it…’

Reivan inwardly started sweating bullets while cursing himself for thinking that black face masks were cool.

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Elsamina couldn't help but feel a sense of disorientation. The masked boy's genuine politeness and sincerity were unfamiliar and almost alien to her.

It wasn’t just his words either.

She had grown accustomed to encountering people who spoke politely but held contempt or judgment in their eyes, further reinforcing her self-perception as nothing more than an object to be used and discarded.

But with Ken, it was different. His words carried a sincerity that resonated deep within her, leaving no room for hidden motives or underlying disdain. There was an authenticity in his demeanor that began to chip away at the walls she had built around herself.

‘It’s like… It’s like he knows.’

If Elsamina had to name the feeling, she would say that it was empathy — something she was accustomed to feeling towards her comrades at the brothel, but also something she wasn’t used to receiving.

‘But that doesn’t make any sense.’

From her observations, Elsamina had certain… theories about the youth’s true identity. But even if those theories ended up being wrong, she had trouble fathoming how such a young man came to represent an organization unless he was the son of someone important in said organization.

Especially if the organization could hire numerous people capable of advanced magic power application and Qi manipulation. Climbing the ranks of that sort of group definitely wouldn’t be easy.

And for a child? Impossible.

So assuming that he was the son of someone important in the group, how could he possibly empathize with her? A life of luxury must have been the minimum of what he'd experienced in the few years he'd been alive.

Unfortunately, Elsamina wasn’t creative enough to think of a viable explanation for the feeling she felt.

The sound of something heavy falling to the floor woke her up from her reverie. Elsamina glanced behind her to see that Desmor had fallen to the ground, his back slumped against the back of the room’s wall.

“Get up, fool!” Elvar hissed at his brother, beads of sweat flowing down the sides of his face. “How can you not even stand for ten minutes?”

“B-but, brother… my knees hurt…” Desmor protested but still attempted to stand up.

“There’s no need to force him, Mr. Elvar,” Ken assured. “If your brother’s… healthiness makes it hard for him to stand for long periods of time, then it’s better to just let him sit on the floor like that. Though he’ll have to put up with all the blood and whatnot.”

The mysterious youth’s words made Elsamina glance around at the carnage and destruction in the room. None of the expensive bottles of wine survived, and almost all the shelves were wrecked since Greyviel kept using them as shields or projectiles.

As for the carpet, the blood made it hard to tell which parts were red from the start. And the chandeliers had all but shattered under the pressure of the attacks that had flown across the room.

Looking at all the corpses sent a shiver down Elsamina’s spine. It wasn’t her first time seeing a dead body, but the thought that she could have easily been one of these lifeless carcasses made her heartbeat quicken.

“Th-thank you for your consideration, Mr. Ken.” Elvar bent his waist and bowed respectfully, a strained smile on his face. “Desmor, quickly. Thank the kind gentlemen.”

Looking utterly confused about why he had to do such a thing, Desmor hesitantly spoke. “Uh, thanks…?”

“It’s no problem.” Ken dismissed with a wave. “Oh, and the two of you don’t need to introduce yourselves since I know you already. And if my original plan is to be followed, I won’t be knowing you for very long.”

Elvar gulped. “W-what…”

“Mr. Elvar…” The mysterious youth cut the nervous man off. “I’m not like the silver whatever that you planned to cut a deal with. Using you is convenient, but your services aren’t essential. So you’re not as important anymore. As you can see, we are more than capable of smuggling imperial tech and Aizenian tech even without your help.”

“B-but…!”

“At the moment, Mr. Elvar, you and your brother are just civilians — civilians that just so happen to know what has transpired in this room full of dead bodies.”

The normally scowling man’s face twisted in anguish as his fists clenched. Finally, his body relaxed and a sigh escaped his lips. “What do you want?”

The mask Ken wore hid it, but Elsamina could vaguely feel that the youth was smiling.

“It’s not a question of what I want, Mr. Elvar. But a question of what you can offer.”

Elvar bit his lips for a moment before saying. “Everything. Everything I’ve built up here in Worgon these past few years. Just let me and my brother go.”

“Unfortunately, Mr. Elvar, that is not enough.”

Following the youth’s signal, one of the men equipped with imperial sorciron cloaks pulled out a gun and shot Elvar in the shoulder.

“AHHH!” Desmor yelled amidst Elvar’s pained groans. “Are you okay!?”

“You nitwit, do I look okay?”

The masked youth’s blue eyes observed the two for a few moments before he stood up and pulled out a gun too.

Ken walked up and pointed the end of the barrel at the man’s face. “Mr. Elvar, I’m a very busy person. It would be in your best interest to convince me of your usefulness a little faster.”

“What do you want!?” Elvar screamed hysterically. “Do you want everything I have at Arkhan as well!? Fine! Just take it!”

“Unfortunately, that’s not the answer I was looking for.” The youth shook his head. “You may be unaware, but your company has a few people from our side. A single word from me is enough and they’ll swarm in like locusts, devouring everything you own. So you see, Mr. Elvar, I don’t need your consent to get everything you have. The moment you stepped down here, all of it became mine. And so, I ask you again…”

Bang!

Elsamina winced at the noise, her ears still ringing. A second later, anguished screams echoed throughout the room.

Elvar writhed in pain while clutching his bloody thigh, his eyes staring at the apathetic youth in horror.

“What can you offer me, Mr. Elvar?”