Jack had already known he was being watched since he left the central square. The time was late, befitting of the NIghtblade’s play. The experience he had inherited from the Legacy Orb helped him detect signs of being followed, from the thumbs of hurried footsteps that stood out in the crowd to an unrelenting gaze that stuck on his back and the soft cracking on the rooftops.
His opponent, for sure, wasn’t a Nightblade, but that person had all the quickness and dexterity of an adept scouter. He must have been a specialized Warrior, but compared to Jack, who had inherited the knowledge and experience of a Legacy Orb, his skill was significantly inferior, making the night today his backstabber rather than an ally.
The roads gradually become less crowded when moving to the suburbs as the lambs on the side became no more than dots of line, glimmering weakly in their hopeless attempt to push back the night. Jack, still walking ahead, suddenly turned sideways into an alley. The stranger behind, standing on the rooftop, jumped to the other side of the road; his pair of agile legs allowed for a clean landing land on a balcony. The person’s eyes scanned the alley beneath, but all they could find was the absence of human presence.
The shadow silently focused on his ears, but all it could catch was the sound of the wind or sometimes of the rats passing by. As soon as the frowning started, a pointy end touched his back, right where the heart would be.
“Go back and tell your master not to bother me again,” a croaky voice sounded right next to his ears. “Or your head will be rolling on his doorsteps instead.”
The person nodded, and immediately, the pressure on his back vaporized. The figure instantly jumped down without turning his head around, circled back to the main road, and joined the stream of people on the street heading back to the bank. Though he had been walking for a good distance, the Mayor’s henchman didn’t even dare to turn his head around, feeling the danger still hanging above his head.
Jack, still standing above, watched the stranger. He sat down and stayed there for another hour, just to make sure no one was tailing him anymore before entering Presence of The Night and leaving.
Returning to his lab, Jack quickly removed his disguise and awarded himself a good night's sleep. He didn’t really care about the suspicion around him, for there was a reason those people had managed to climb to their positions. At the end of the day, though, this identity would soon be discarded after all the deals had been finished.
“What is it?” Oudin asked, seeing his friend’s annoyed face.
“He himself is not simple at all,” Marvin answered.
He didn’t reveal how infuriated he was with the threat.
“Stronger than us?” The bank director continued.
“Not sure. My man reports that he vanished and reappeared behind his back without a single warning.”
“That means he’s a NIghtblade….”
“Or he simply far stronger than a High Herald,” Marvin interrupted his friend’s words to accentuate what he really meant.
Only a single person could follow the way of the NIghtblade in Oxdale, and that person was Bastian’s apprentice. Even if you put a knife at their throat, the two men would never admit that they were being toyed with by a kid.
“Then, we should just proceed with this deal,” Oudin concluded. “It doesn’t hurt us. Besides, what he has mentioned just might actually be true.”
“Right, especially with the rate of unfortunate events that have been taking place lately.”
“Is Meinhard returning any time soon?” Oudin asked, shaking his head.
“Probably.”
“Then we wait for him. The principal will know what to make of this.”
The following day, Jack bribed Bastian with one hundred crystals to order a large amount of material on his behalf, some of them for a second attempt on Warfists of Fleeting Might. He figured he should equip himself a bit to face the upcoming monster surge.
“I know you are a smithing maniac like me,” Bastian grumpily said. “But there’s a limit, ya know. Where the hell will I do my forging, ay?”
“C’mon, it’s no loss on you,” Jack smiled, calming the old man.
“Heh, one penny short, and I’ll let you know how dirt taste.”
While waiting for the rarer materials, Jack began the forging with the Herald weapons of Rare or below. There was an abundance of these on the System’s list.
For two weeks, he just stayed in Sword in the Forge. In total, the number of arms he had crafted was more than fifty, nothing out of his expectation, though.
Lastly, he put on his mess of a disguise and found his way to the bank again. This time, however, to avoid all the nuisances of being ambushed or intimidated on the spot, Jack hired a young man to send a small piece of note to the reception. Afterward, he went to a café around the corner of the town square and bought the whole place for an hour with a mana crystal.
Five minutes late, Oudin Schnell hurriedly walked toward Jack’s location. He was really confused by Jack’s wary approach even though all preparation had been made at the bank’s guest room. This action alone had prompted Oudin’s doubt about Jack’s claim of a mighty existence behind him. This was not how a subordinate of one of that caliber would behave.
“Sit, director,” Jack said.
“You could have come to our bank for a much more pleasant reception, Mr. Adam.”
“Trivial things. Somebody was watching me the other day, and I wasn’t too happy with that. Retribution against you would be but a wave of the hand, but I don’t want to see the blood of innocent.”
Oudin’s smile froze, his hands lifting the pot of tea and pouring for Jack.
Damn you, Marvin, he cursed.
“Bring me an inventory ring,” Jack requested.
“Here you go, sir.”
Jack proceeded to transfer all the weapons to the empty ring. Then, he returned it back to the bank director.
“Check it,” Jack said.
Oudin complied and scanned the item with his mind. After a few seconds, his lips curved up in delight. The quantity and quality of the weapon inside were beyond expectation. Most of them were Rare, with a few being Uncommon. Two glamorous swords of Mythical rarity were also among them.
“No item for Crusaders, sir?” Oudin hesitantly asked.
“I don’t want to affect the lifeline of the old Bastian. The boy, his apprentice, is also a problem.”
“Bastian’s apprentice?” Oudin raised his eyebrows, his head full of thoughts. “Jack Corvus?”
“Him. You’ve been doing a good job helping the Hensley bullying him, right?”
“Not at all. It was just the usual business scheming between the houses.”
“Huh, anyway, be quick with the payment.”
Oudin nodded obsequiously and took out another ring with the agreed-upon amount.
While waiting for Jack to inspect the item, the bank director put some thought into his current situation. The words his customer had just uttered made it clear that he wanted to get involved in the conflict between the Hensley and the Harper, both of whom had untouchable backing. Perhaps, he thought, the bank should be a bit more flexible and ease the way for the Harper to get their hand on some funds after their bankruptcy, just in case they found themself with another patron, one related to this strange customer. Of course, there was also the possibility that Adam was just another vulture waiting to feast on what was left of the Harper, all the while strangling the Hensley. Whatever the case was, he needed a response plan to minimize any risk in this.
“Right, let's just say you did your part well enough,” Jack’s rough laugh confused Oudin if it was a compliment or sarcasm.
“Should you find anything unsatisfied, please let us know,” Oudin said calmly while receiving his ring.
“I was never really satisfied with you.”
“Then, please once again accept my apology on behalf of the bank.”
Jack was about to leave when something popped up in his mind.
“Ah, you have the information about the item set that involves Warfists of Fleeting Might, don’t you?”
“Yes,” Oudin nodded in confusion. “Do you need it?”
“Hmmm, sounds like a set worthy of collection.”
The bank director took out a small piece of paper and quickly wrote down the necessary details before handing it to Jack.
“I reckon you know better than sending someone after me.”
“Absolutely. Goodbye, Mr. Adam.”
Jack stood up and left without looking back.
The amount of money in his hand right now made him want to go back and get to work immediately. The time was finally right for him, as well as the Harper, to grow. This Adam identity would be discarded to avoid any future suspicion.
Oudin turned his gaze to his inventory ring and started planning his next steps. He glanced back at the shadow of the hunchback figure, only to realize it was nowhere to be found in a blink of an eye.
“Oxdale is really not fine,” he mumbled with a sigh.
Jack had already known he was being watched since he left the central square. The time was late, befitting of the NIghtblade’s play. The experience he had inherited from the Legacy Orb helped him detect signs of being followed, from the thumbs of hurried footsteps that stood out in the crowd to an unrelenting gaze that stuck on his back and the soft cracking on the rooftops.
His opponent, for sure, wasn’t a Nightblade, but that person had all the quickness and dexterity of an adept scouter. He must have been a specialized Warrior, but compared to Jack, who had inherited the knowledge and experience of a Legacy Orb, his skill was significantly inferior, making the night today his backstabber rather than an ally.
The roads gradually become less crowded when moving to the suburbs as the lambs on the side became no more than dots of line, glimmering weakly in their hopeless attempt to push back the night. Jack, still walking ahead, suddenly turned sideways into an alley. The stranger behind, standing on the rooftop, jumped to the other side of the road; his pair of agile legs allowed for a clean landing land on a balcony. The person’s eyes scanned the alley beneath, but all they could find was the absence of human presence.
The shadow silently focused on his ears, but all it could catch was the sound of the wind or sometimes of the rats passing by. As soon as the frowning started, a pointy end touched his back, right where the heart would be.
“Go back and tell your master not to bother me again,” a croaky voice sounded right next to his ears. “Or your head will be rolling on his doorsteps instead.”
The person nodded, and immediately, the pressure on his back vaporized. The figure instantly jumped down without turning his head around, circled back to the main road, and joined the stream of people on the street heading back to the bank. Though he had been walking for a good distance, the Mayor’s henchman didn’t even dare to turn his head around, feeling the danger still hanging above his head.
Jack, still standing above, watched the stranger. He sat down and stayed there for another hour, just to make sure no one was tailing him anymore before entering Presence of The Night and leaving.
Returning to his lab, Jack quickly removed his disguise and awarded himself a good night's sleep. He didn’t really care about the suspicion around him, for there was a reason those people had managed to climb to their positions. At the end of the day, though, this identity would soon be discarded after all the deals had been finished.
“What is it?” Oudin asked, seeing his friend’s annoyed face.
“He himself is not simple at all,” Marvin answered.
He didn’t reveal how infuriated he was with the threat.
“Stronger than us?” The bank director continued.
“Not sure. My man reports that he vanished and reappeared behind his back without a single warning.”
“That means he’s a NIghtblade….”
“Or he simply far stronger than a High Herald,” Marvin interrupted his friend’s words to accentuate what he really meant.
Only a single person could follow the way of the NIghtblade in Oxdale, and that person was Bastian’s apprentice. Even if you put a knife at their throat, the two men would never admit that they were being toyed with by a kid.
“Then, we should just proceed with this deal,” Oudin concluded. “It doesn’t hurt us. Besides, what he has mentioned just might actually be true.”
“Right, especially with the rate of unfortunate events that have been taking place lately.”
“Is Meinhard returning any time soon?” Oudin asked, shaking his head.
“Probably.”
“Then we wait for him. The principal will know what to make of this.”
The following day, Jack bribed Bastian with one hundred crystals to order a large amount of material on his behalf, some of them for a second attempt on Warfists of Fleeting Might. He figured he should equip himself a bit to face the upcoming monster surge.
“I know you are a smithing maniac like me,” Bastian grumpily said. “But there’s a limit, ya know. Where the hell will I do my forging, ay?”
“C’mon, it’s no loss on you,” Jack smiled, calming the old man.
“Heh, one penny short, and I’ll let you know how dirt taste.”
While waiting for the rarer materials, Jack began the forging with the Herald weapons of Rare or below. There was an abundance of these on the System’s list.
For two weeks, he just stayed in Sword in the Forge. In total, the number of arms he had crafted was more than fifty, nothing out of his expectation, though.
Lastly, he put on his mess of a disguise and found his way to the bank again. This time, however, to avoid all the nuisances of being ambushed or intimidated on the spot, Jack hired a young man to send a small piece of note to the reception. Afterward, he went to a café around the corner of the town square and bought the whole place for an hour with a mana crystal.
Five minutes late, Oudin Schnell hurriedly walked toward Jack’s location. He was really confused by Jack’s wary approach even though all preparation had been made at the bank’s guest room. This action alone had prompted Oudin’s doubt about Jack’s claim of a mighty existence behind him. This was not how a subordinate of one of that caliber would behave.
“Sit, director,” Jack said.
“You could have come to our bank for a much more pleasant reception, Mr. Adam.”
“Trivial things. Somebody was watching me the other day, and I wasn’t too happy with that. Retribution against you would be but a wave of the hand, but I don’t want to see the blood of innocent.”
Oudin’s smile froze, his hands lifting the pot of tea and pouring for Jack.
Damn you, Marvin, he cursed.
“Bring me an inventory ring,” Jack requested.
“Here you go, sir.”
Jack proceeded to transfer all the weapons to the empty ring. Then, he returned it back to the bank director.
“Check it,” Jack said.
Oudin complied and scanned the item with his mind. After a few seconds, his lips curved up in delight. The quantity and quality of the weapon inside were beyond expectation. Most of them were Rare, with a few being Uncommon. Two glamorous swords of Mythical rarity were also among them.
“No item for Crusaders, sir?” Oudin hesitantly asked.
“I don’t want to affect the lifeline of the old Bastian. The boy, his apprentice, is also a problem.”
“Bastian’s apprentice?” Oudin raised his eyebrows, his head full of thoughts. “Jack Corvus?”
“Him. You’ve been doing a good job helping the Hensley bullying him, right?”
“Not at all. It was just the usual business scheming between the houses.”
“Huh, anyway, be quick with the payment.”
Oudin nodded obsequiously and took out another ring with the agreed-upon amount.
While waiting for Jack to inspect the item, the bank director put some thought into his current situation. The words his customer had just uttered made it clear that he wanted to get involved in the conflict between the Hensley and the Harper, both of whom had untouchable backing. Perhaps, he thought, the bank should be a bit more flexible and ease the way for the Harper to get their hand on some funds after their bankruptcy, just in case they found themself with another patron, one related to this strange customer. Of course, there was also the possibility that Adam was just another vulture waiting to feast on what was left of the Harper, all the while strangling the Hensley. Whatever the case was, he needed a response plan to minimize any risk in this.
“Right, let's just say you did your part well enough,” Jack’s rough laugh confused Oudin if it was a compliment or sarcasm.
“Should you find anything unsatisfied, please let us know,” Oudin said calmly while receiving his ring.
“I was never really satisfied with you.”
“Then, please once again accept my apology on behalf of the bank.”
Jack was about to leave when something popped up in his mind.
“Ah, you have the information about the item set that involves Warfists of Fleeting Might, don’t you?”
“Yes,” Oudin nodded in confusion. “Do you need it?”
“Hmmm, sounds like a set worthy of collection.”
The bank director took out a small piece of paper and quickly wrote down the necessary details before handing it to Jack.
“I reckon you know better than sending someone after me.”
“Absolutely. Goodbye, Mr. Adam.”
Jack stood up and left without looking back.
The amount of money in his hand right now made him want to go back and get to work immediately. The time was finally right for him, as well as the Harper, to grow. This Adam identity would be discarded to avoid any future suspicion.
Oudin turned his gaze to his inventory ring and started planning his next steps. He glanced back at the shadow of the hunchback figure, only to realize it was nowhere to be found in a blink of an eye.
“Oxdale is really not fine,” he mumbled with a sigh.
