Arc#3 Interlude: Cornered Rats (1) (Patreon)

While Reivan was busy with his own private matters, the rest of the world did not slow down for him.

'It's about time.'

Somewhere within the dark sewers of Arkhana, Xander somberly watched the Ouroboros grunts lug crates full of contraband and other things that could be used as evidence of their illegal activities. Floating on the waters were ten small boats that had already been partially loaded with similar crates. Bright glowing orbs hung from their edges, serving as the only sources of light for miles.

'It really doesn't stink at all, huh?'

Waste treatment techniques have long since advanced in the Republic's capital. Now, the toilets were equipped with disposal functions, so the sewers were rarely ever used. In fact, the place seemed more like an underground waterway than a sewer.

Of course, it was also the perfect place for criminals to gather or hide for a while.

"Hey, be careful with that, will ya!?"

"Oh, shut up. Don't think I didn't see you earlier! You almost dropped one in the water!"

"Wh-what!? No did not!"

The grunts were all highly motivated despite the dangerous and menial job, because despite their relative incompetence during their times as peons, Xander had promoted them a few days ago.

None of them knew that they had been promoted for the express purpose of fulfilling this particular task. Nor did they have an inkling that Xander was about to get most of them killed.

Suddenly, five masked men dressed in thick, black cloaks approached from beyond the darkness. Their movements were precise and a trained eye could see that they were ready to respond to any sudden attacks.

The one in the middle spoke first. "Sir Xanthus. The mission has been completed."

Xander nodded, consulting the sewer map in his head again. Because of these five, all paths to their location except for one have collapsed. This meant that any pursuers would have limited options if they didn't want to go through the trouble of creating new paths.

'An earth-attribute spirit beast should be able to do something...'

Luckily, Xander had already preemptively taken care of any variables like that. Now, even if someone arrived, they wouldn't have enough time to clear out a tunnel before the boats got away.

Still, it wouldn't hurt to complete their task as fast as possible to avoid any unforeseen problems.

"Hurry up," he commanded.

"Y-yes, sir!"

"We're on it!"

Receiving the casual command from the strongest combatant in Ouroboros, the grunts hastily exerted all their effort to complete the job faster, despite the difficulty of moving around in dim lighting. Soon, they finally loaded the last of the crates, collapsing on the boats right after completing their tasks.

Xander nodded in satisfaction as he signaled the dark-garbed warriors to get on the boats, which confused some of them.

"Will you not be coming with us, Master?" one of them asked.

"Do not call me that. The Boss owns all of you now." Xander spat, admonishing one of his past students. He'd personally trained these forces outside of his previous organization's eyes, so they'd gotten used to calling him Master. But now that Reivan owned them, their previous way of addressing him was no longer appropriate. "You are now proud Hounds of Ouroboros. Act like it."

"Yes, Sir."

"Now go. Do not forget what you must do."

The five hounds bowed in acquiescence and then vanished, reappearing on some of the boats. In truth, not all of the boats had crates filled with anything important. Half of them were decoys and cannon fodder for any possible traps waiting for them down the waterway. If even those decoys ended up compromised, the hounds were to gauge the situation and judge if it was better to set the contraband and the boat aflame.

Reivan's potential finances would take a huge hit if all of those crates went up in flames, but Xander knew that the prince would understand. It was more important that these crates did not get into the wrong hands.

Sadly, they did not have enough spatial storage artifacts on hand, so some of the items had to be transported in such primitive ways. In any case, some of the crates contained living things, so the situation wouldn't have improved much even if they did have boatloads of spatial rings.

'They... should be fine. I've trained them well.'

Xander selected the five most competent hounds as an extra precaution, but he was sure that most of the law enforcement's efforts would be focused within the capital city anyway. As previous occasions have proven, the fools did not chase after those who fled too far.

'They have even deployed a squad of battlemages for this operation, so they're likely confident that they can catch up to the ships through the sewer routes.'

Unbeknownst to them, Xander was staying behind just so he could stop them.

The boats did not stay for too long after the hounds got on. Xander watched them disappear from view, taking the only sources of light with them.

"Well then... I suppose it's time to wait." Xander turned around to face the opposite direction, not bothered by the lack of illumination.

He waited calmly for the Arkhanian battlemages to arrive while involuntarily thinking of idle thoughts — a negative quality he accidentally picked up from conversing with the talkative prince for too long.

'I wonder why none of the Ouroboros's member titles are snake-related even though the organization is named after a snake?'

Peons, Grunts, Raiders, Hounds, and then Shadows. None of them had anything to do with snakes, which always bothered Xander since he thought the prince would continue the theme. Not even Reivan's title as "Boss" was snake-related.

No matter how much Xander thought about it, he couldn't really understand. In the first place, it didn't matter since in the grand scheme of things, the entire organization was disposable.

All that mattered was how it would serve the motherland.

'Sarina...'

Thinking of his homeland ultimately led him to think about the reason he was fighting so far away from home in the first place: it was to create a slightly more peaceful world for his precious daughter.

Of course, the absurdly high salaries for spies helped smoothen the deal.

'I'm so glad she forgave me...'

Xander was even more motivated to do his job well when he remembered how Prince Reivan personally attended his daughter's wedding with him. It was just so he could help Xander plead for forgiveness. An employer's job most definitely did not include helping their employees mend the relationships that were broken through that very employee's foolishness. This act of kindness was the reason why Xander's loyalty to the crown shot through the roof — not that it wasn't already sky-high.

'Huhu. She even seemed excited to meet her siblings...'

It would take some time before he could sneak his mistress and illegitimate children across the border, but it was definitely a future he was looking forward to.

The problem was his wife.

'Ah, what am I going to do about her...? Am I doomed?'

Just as his mood worsened at the impending bloodbath once he took his mistress home, the people he had been waiting for arrived.

"Halt! I see someone!"

Six figures that wore combat robes and glowing runic gauntlets broke through the darkness, standing on what seemed to be floating metallic plates. Each were holding a bright orb of light in their left hands — a magic item, probably. They all immediately stopped when they saw Xander, placing a more than appropriate distance between him and their party.

Xander examined them carefully as the six figures shined light upon him.

"Who goes there? State your business!" One of the battlemages yelled, pointing a wand at him.

Instead of answering, Xander wore a confused expression as he counted the number of battlemages again. "There are six of you...?"

"Answer the question, scum! Who are you!?" Another battlemage sounded furious. "Fuck this. Why are we even asking stupid questions? This man is obviously affiliated with some underground organization. Let's just finish him off and be on our way!"

"Ah, don't!"

Before the first battlemage could stop the second, a torrent of flame that took the form of a massive tiger's head roared as it hurtled toward Xander. Judging from the intensity and casting speed alone, it was obvious that the conjurer of this spell was a much more proficient sorcerer than Valmir — the last leader of the Silver Cross.

However, Xander's face was serene as his blade traced an arc in the air. In the next instant, the battlemage's spell dispersed just as quickly as it manifested.

"What..." The first battlemage looked incredulously at Xander. "That sword technique..."

Ignoring their shock and confusion, Xander spoke as if talking to himself. "Arkhanian Battlemages are deployed in squads of ten. Is that correct?"

There was silence among the battlemages before the one who'd fired the spell earlier spoke, his voice filled with malice. "And what of it?"

Xander felt his lips curling into a smile despite himself. "But in actuality, squads are actually made up of eleven, battlemages. One of them is tasked to stay away from combat, focusing on using a scrying spell to monitor the other ten. Which means—"

"SPLIT UP AND RUN!" The battlemage who had spoken first yelled at the top of his lungs, taking the lead.

There was a short delay before the other five realized the implications of what Xander had said — and why he said them. They all turned right around and flew away from Xander as fast as their hoverboards could take them.

Xander serenely watched their backs grow smaller and smaller as a thick black smoke oozed from his skin, eventually forming a carapace of obsidian armor around his body. He stowed away the finely crafted sword he'd been using in the republic for years, only for it to be replaced by his Soul Armament — a black glaive with a dark purple hue along its edge.

"You cannot run. Not anymore."

After all, he'd collapsed the paths leading to this location not only to prevent more people from coming in... he had also done it to hinder the ones trying to leave.

'I no longer have reason to hide my capabilities.'

Xander's body slowly melted into the darkness of the sewers, a veritable paradise for dark-attribute Elementalists such as himself. He would not dare to claim he could emulate how his ancestor could teleport, but Xander didn't let his skills stagnate while working as a spy.

'As long as it was within darkness...'

Few could escape him.

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Miriol couldn't help but glance behind him in fear while flying forward as fast as he could, no matter how dangerous doing those things simultaneously was.

'Shit. Why the fuck did we have to meet a fucking knight! Or rather, why is one here!?'

The profound sword technique that could directly attack a spell's core, the sheer confidence despite facing more enemies, and quite frankly, intuition, told Miriol all he needed to know.

He wanted to give himself a pat on the back for ordering a retreat as fast as he did, but he couldn't do so when he saw his colleagues traveling just behind him.

"I said we have to split up!" he yelled.

"The other paths were caved in, remember?" One of his squadmates shouted back while waving her wand. Soon, what was left of their squad flew much faster, due to the nullification of wind resistance. "There's only one way back!"

'Son of a... he's fucking right!'

Miriol unconsciously touched his throat, feeling as if a blade was held up against it but he cleared his thoughts.

'Crap, they didn't teach us this in the fucking academy! There haven't been any confrontations with Aizen for decades! We don't have a protocol for this shit! What the hell am I supposed to do here!?'

In his uncertainty, Miriol was sure that the knight had been the one to kill the other five members of his squad.

'Shit. This is all my fault...'

Hungry for achievements, Miriol had chased after two tails at the same time, splitting his squad into two. Miriol and five others had quickly taken out one criminal organization, then moved to reunite with the other five. It went against protocol to pull out the person on scrying duty, but they didn't get a lot of chances to gain achievements by fighting weaklings so he'd gotten a bit greedy.

Who would've known that they would be dead before their reunion?

What little they could scry from the residual memories of the dead squad members' spirit beasts wasn't all that helpful either. The fools had been slain without a fight — backstabbed with lethal force while they were split up.

They were even taken out in the exact same way, every single time.

Miriol thought that he and the other members would somehow pull through if they stuck together and remained vigilant of surprise attacks.

Oh, how naive they were.

'Fuck. FUCK! We got too complacent.'

Miriol wasn't immature enough to shift the blame onto someone else when he was, in fact, the one who suggested they split the squad in two. Sure, the others had agreed, but he was the captain and everything that went wrong was his responsibility.

'I admit I fucked up but we were just supposed to fight some puny gangs and small-time crooks! Why is there a knight here!?'

For all intents and purposes, employing battlemages to clean up the city's criminal organizations was overkill. Battlemages were trained in military-grade sorcery and even had contracts with spirit beasts. They could cast spells that lesser mages could never even dream of learning — and at record time, too!

Some of them could even temporarily fuse together with their spirit beasts to become Ascendants!

Of course, Miriol and his squad were nowhere near that level, but their position was prestigious nonetheless. It was beneath them to fight gangs — no matter how big those gangs turned out to be. Sure, they could use their success in these missions to ask for salary raises, but he still couldn't deny that it was a job beneath their station.

'Fuck those Argonian bastards!'

While he still admitted to most of the blame, the state wouldn't have ordered battlemages to clean up the city if princes and princesses from Argonia weren't coming to visit long-term. That's why Miriol couldn't help but resent the visitors and the bureaucrats who wanted to impress those visitors with a crimeless city.

'We're almost there...!'

This whole ordeal was no longer something a lesser battlemage like him could handle.

Aizen's knights were Rank-S threats that could nullify spells below a certain level, had magic-resistant armor on top of that, unbreakable weapons, and all sorts of strange techniques that didn't fall behind the effects of high-rank spells at all.

On top of that, every single one was a zealot who either won or died trying! None of them were right in the head!

'I have to tell the higher-ups...!'

Just as he was about to turn the final corner, Miriol was forced to stop.

"What the f—!" Miriol's eyes widened as crippling despair started seeping into his heart.

"Hey Mio, why did you stop...?" One of his colleagues barely halted their hoverboard before their eyes also widened. "Shit. The path's blocked..."

Instead of the passage they used to enter the sewers, what the battlemages saw was a forest of what looked like black thorns. Each and every one of the battlemages was adept at sensing magic power, so they could all perceive that the barricade was not natural at all, but rather, the effect of some obscure technique.

"You're late."

Miriol stiffened but he still turned to look behind him, only to regret his life choices.

Pinning them to the wall of thorns was what could only be described as a demon. Although humanoid, most of its body was obscured by some kind of thick ebony mist. In its hand was a scythe — no, Miriol's eyes deceived him. The demon held a glaive, a polearm that was apparently favored in the eastern continent but was adapted by Aizen's knights.

"First... you."

The clump of mist rapidly shot forward, and the demon's glowing purple eyes were the last thing Miriol saw before his consciousness left him forever.