Chapter 159: Welcome to the Kingdom: Entering

AN: This chapter's extra-long! Hope you enjoy :)

Keiki stood at a door in a dank, cold sewer. After tailing several suspicious individuals in the city of Fronttown, this was the only place of interest she’d found. Everyone else retired to their homes for the night, or something similar. But one of them came here. Down into the sewer, walked for probably a few hundred paces, and then went through this wooden door.

But when she tried it…

“It’s locked,” she said.

According to Asmo, everything Keiki heard, the earpiece would hear, too. That little device they’d stuck down into her ear canal. It felt weird, but she was getting used to it. And so she’d been narrating her mission back to command through whispers to ensure the operation went smoothly.

“Attempting to bypass lock.”

After listening for noises coming from the other side to ensure nobody was there, she drew her sword from its sheath and carefully inserted it into the boards making up the door. It was sharp enough that she didn’t need to apply much pressure to slice through the wood, though her Strength certainly also contributed to that ease.

Slowly, she cut around the hinges of the door, separating those pieces of wood attached to the frame from the rest. Then, she cut around the doorknob and the lock as well, so that the door was simply sitting free on the ground. Reaching out, she placed her hands on the door, and gently pushed forward.

Before the door could clatter to the ground, she stepped up and grabbed it mid-fall, gently lowering it to the sewer floor without a noise. Through the door was another hallway, though one that was clearly different from the sewer before it.

“Stone brick halls, new,” she muttered. “No sign of enemy combatants.”

She glanced around. There were some more doors lining the hallway, plus a larger, grander one at the end. Probably her destination.

“I believe I have located what is likely an important location. Proceeding into that location will likely put me into contact with the target. Shall I proceed?”

She paused, awaiting orders.

“...Yes.” A voice came through her earpiece. It wasn’t Asmo’s—though Asmo had been the one to write it—but rather, a synthetic voice made by the earpiece. Everything Keiki heard and said was transcribed by the earpiece and sent to the control room, and everything written on Keiki’s Message Paper in the control room would be read out into her ear. That was the inner-workings of these interesting little devices. The Demons had their Communication Crystals that they used, but for the Humans to imitate that technology, they’d clearly needed to take some interesting measures.

But, in short, it meant that Keiki had received confirmation to move forward with the mission.

“Proceeding.”

She crept forward, sword drawn, though the wide hallway, boots only barely echoing across the otherwise silent floor. The bricks passed beneath her, and she soon stood before the door.

With a slight push, she cracked the double-doors open, and put her ear up to listen.

A man laughed within the room. From the sound of the echo, it was large. Maybe twenty paces by twenty paces. “Man, shut the fuck up with that shit, man! I got, like, eighty silver from that last hit. Eighty, man! They were so scared, man, I probably coulda convinced them to pay me a fuckin’ gold! Fuckin’ nobodies, man, don’t know shit about shit. Don’t know what the business is like.”

Another laughed back. “Eighty?! Man, you’re fucked up, man. You had to be, what, holdin’ ‘em at swordpoint or somethin’ man, right?”

“Nah, man, I don’t hold clients up. Sword’s for the targets, you know what I’m saying? Guess they probably did see the blood on it though, huh?” He laughed. “Clients pay well when you show them the fruits of what they’re payin’ you to do, I guess.”

“I should start bringing heads as proof, man! I’ll start getting gold coins per body from those fuckers!”

“Quiet down, you two,” a new voice said. It was deep and gravelly, filling the entire room with every word. “And you will not show fucking heads to our fucking clients. We have to at least pretend to have standards.”

“Right, sir.”

“Uh, yeah, uh, sorry, sir.”

The room quieted down after that. Three voices total. Three threats. One of them—the deep one—was most likely the target. That meant two enemy combatants? However, there could be more that were silent during that conversation.

“Mission time?” Keiki whispered.

“...Zero one two nine.”

It would likely be unwise for her to stay and wait to find out if there were more threats within. Not only was the time ticking away, but there was also the chance of someone entering the hall she was in. She would simply have to make due with limited information.

Keiki pushed the door open a hair wider, so she could peek through. Her initial assessment on the room’s size had been right, she saw—though it was longer downward than she thought. Running down the two side edges were canals of water from the sewers, and sitting around at tables scattered haphazardly throughout the whole room were individuals. The people she’d heard talking, plus some more.

And sitting down at the far end of that room was a chair, with a desk. And sitting in that chair, at that desk, was a large man with a large beard. His skin was browned and bumpy, though his head was smoothly bald.

“Someone get me a glass of ethanol, huh?” his gruff voice shouted out to the room.

There were some grumblings, but two individuals stood up and walked over to a bar at the side of the dark room. If he was drinking straight ethanol, his Endurance was probably sky-high. Though he could also just be a mid-Level drunkard.

While those people were grabbing him that drink, Keiki slipped into the room. It was borderline completely devoid of light, thankfully, only lit by sparse torches—not even magical illumination. And she was, of course, wearing her Shade Cloak, meaning she’d be scarcely spotted unless she entered the brighter spots near the tables.

As she crept across the wall by the door, she counted threats.

“One, two, three, four, five…six, counting the target,” she whispered. “Engaging in attempt to bring down to…two, before negotiations.”

Slowly, she moved up toward the first threat, nearest to her. Older male, probably aged fifty-five. No weapons, meaning either Unclassed or Magic-Type. Elderly Magic-Types were always troublesome, of course, due to all that time that can be spent practicing for Spell XP. Though none of that practice could ever get them any more Health, so they were practically begging to be the first victims in an ambush.

As a Hybrid-Type, the Samurai Class got the privilege of receiving both Martial Arts and Spells—however at a reduced rate for both. But Keiki’s particular blend of ingredients in her Status cooked up a particularly swift, and unnoticed, death. For just about anyone who caught themselves on the wrong end of her blade.

First up was her Spell, Silence.

The room around her went dead quiet. Though nobody was trying to speak right now, so it went unnoticed.

Then her second Spell, Guided Strike, greatly increasing the damage of her next attack.

Next up would be her first Martial Art. One which also greatly increased the damage of her next attack—even more than the Spell—but only if the target wasn’t looking at you when you hit.

So she waited a moment, then another, then another, for the perfect time to activate…and…

“Engaging.”

**********

Jon walked down the street of a familiar city—Tapinsouth. He had traveled to many cities in the fine Koinkar Kingdom, of course, and this was one of the ones he’d been to in the past. Not too long ago, he remembered. He’d done a mission here, met with a few people in need. It was…four years back? Some Purple Drake hit them, spread a plague. He hadn’t done much, but it was more than nothing.

“Hey! Mister Jon! I remember you!” A voice called off from the side of a street.

He looked over and saw a woman walking down the street turn to him.

“Mister Jon, it’s me! Marsa.”

“Hello Marsa,” he smiled. “Forgive me, but I get my faces and names mixed up so badly these days. Could you remind me…”

“Oh, yes,” she laughed. “I’m sure you know hundreds of people like me, by now. A few years back, my son, he was sick. You healed him. Would’ve cost us a fortune to get a healer otherwise. I just really, really thank you for everything you’ve done for us.”

“Of course. I would never turn down anyone who’s in need.”

“Jon?” Another voice asked, behind him. “Jon Mourn?”

He turned and saw a man with kind smile lines in his cheeks. “Hello there.”

“I, wow, I can’t believe it’s really you. I heard about everything you’ve done, and it’s just…wow. It’s amazing.”

“It really isn’t,” Jon chuckled. “I’m just someone who’s had the luck necessary to do the things anyone else would do in my situation.”

The man laughed. “No, you’re amazing, really. I, uh, I actually…my wife. She has the flu. And, I mean, you know how these things can go. Right now, she’s still able to do some basic work, but…in a week? If we don’t get healing soon, we…”

“Of course. Is she able to walk?”

“Yes, yes, I’ll bring her here right away!”

“Good! I’ll stay until you find me,” Jon nodded, and the man turned and ran off.

“Jon Mourn?” A third person walked forward from the busy street. “Hey, I heard people talking, and…wow, it’s you. Um, hey, I actually got into an adventuring accident earlier, got a slash from a monster. Wound itself isn’t really bad, and it’ll heal eventually, but it’s the Health. I didn’t get as much coin as I hoped from the job, and I really need to go out into the field later today to put food on the table. With the jobs available right now, I have to take a combat, but I don’t want to go in so low on Health. So, I mean, if you could…”

“Yes, yes, come here,” Jon laid his hands on the man’s side, where he could see the white bandaging on his abdomen. “Just give me thirty seconds, and this Spell should do the trick. You’ll be topped up, and it’ll probably do something about your scratch, too.”

“Thank you so much.”

“Jon Mourn?” Another person stepped out of the crowd. And another.

Several hours passed with Jon healing the people who came by.

“Hi, Jon, I don’t actually have any injuries, but…I’m really thirsty. I’m a farmer, and our well got contaminated by some rat that fell in there. We’re working on getting it cleaned, but I heard you can help with things like water?”

“Yes, of course.” Jon bent over and picked up a rock from the ground. It was a regular stone, same as any other, but he could make it do great things. Closing his eyes, he focused inward and cast another Spell—one of his few that weren’t focused on healing.

This one, Infuse with the Elements, was an interesting Spell for Clerics. Took quite a bit to cast, but it had so many modes and usages, it was practically a crime not to pick it up, if you were getting to that Level. Especially with its Upgrades, which only added even more modes and variables to tweak while using it.

So he toggled it on, selecting the modes he wanted. Infuse with the water element, long duration, choosing the pebble in his hand, and…it was on. Now he just had to wait. After making those choices, the Spell technically wouldn’t do anything yet. It’d just begin the infusion. It was once the Spell toggled off, and the infusion was finished, that it would begin to have an effect.

So Jon waited a few seconds for the infusion to take hold. The longer one waited, the more powerful the effect. For this issue, though, it didn’t need to be much.

“And…there,” Jon nodded, toggling the Spell off.

The rock, once ordinary, suddenly began to drip with water, as though it’d just been dunked in a pond. And because of the duration Jon had chosen, it wouldn’t give off much very quickly, but it would keep going for a long, long time.

He placed the stone in the man’s hand. “Put this in your water bucket. For the next, oh, around two days, it should leak water just like that. Should be enough to fill the bucket once every few hours, I’d say.”

“Oh, Jon, you’re a lifesaver. A real miracle worker,” the man laughed and looked down at the rock. “How much do you need? I can really pay you anything, I promise.”

“No, no. No payment necessary. Consider it a gift.”

“Well, at least let me reimburse you for the Mana spent. I don’t want to just take that from you.”

“Absolutely not,” Jon smiled. “I refuse to take money for my services. That’s my number one rule.”

“I…Okay. Okay, Jon, thank you again. I promise, if you ever need anything, just find me!”

“I will.”

“...Jon.” A new voice entered his ear. This one was different. Synthetic. “...What are you doing.”

“Asmo,” he muttered so that only he could hear—which meant one other person could, as well. “I am doing my job.”

“...No. …Your job is to find the target.”

“And what do you think I’m doing? Soon, my friend. Patience is a virtue.”

“...Mission clock is zero four zero zero remaining. …Complete soon. …There are other missions past this one. …Things need to be done.”

“And they will be done. All in good time, my friend.”

“Hey, Jon Mourn?” Another person came up to him. “You’re the, uh, healer everyone’s been talking about, right?”

“Yes, I am,” he smiled. “What can I do for you?”

“Got a, uh, pretty nasty wound.” He pulled up his shirt to reveal a hole in his stomach. “Can you, uh, do something about that?”

“Of course I can.”

Jon placed his hands on the man’s stomach and cast a basic healing Spell. This one, however, also doubled as a diagnostic. It would tell him anything wrong with this man, in addition to curing him.

“Just give me about one minute.”

“Sure, sure. Thanks.”

…And, there. Wound made by a sharp object, System notification labeled it as a…’stabbing,’ huh. About six finger-widths deep, two wide, but only a fingernail’s thick. Obviously not a claw, or a tooth. A knife. Manmade. And in addition to that, there were many cuts and scrapes covering his body. Most of which were…aha, he found. System labeled them as ‘self-inflicted.’ Obviously this man wasn’t going around randomly scraping himself up on his palms and his back intentionally, but he clearly had done it to himself.

And that most likely meant that the man had gotten them by crawling through areas. Areas covered in things that could cut someone. Areas like broken windows. Probably got the cuts on his palms trying to clear the broken glass away before going through. This guy crawled through a window he broke and then got stabbed by someone? Sounded like textbook breaking and entering to Jon.

“Thanks,” the man said, looking down at his newly-mended injuries. “Hey, uh, if you ever need anything, just, uh, ask.”

“Actually,” Jon said, “there is one thing you might be able to do for me.”

The man led Jon up to a building down in an unfortunate neighborhood. The building itself looked fine and well-constructed, but the homes and other buildings surrounding it were dilapidated and obviously neglected by not only their owners, but also whatever city planners took care of things like roads. Glancing around at the people staring at him, they were obviously in need of some help.

But that would come a little later. For now, Jon had a meeting to attend to.

“So, uh, how did you know I worked for this guy?” the man asked Jon as they approached.

“Just wanted to have a short meeting,” Jon said. Then, when he looked over and saw that he hadn’t done much to assuage the man’s worries, he smiled kindly. “It’s nothing serious.”

“Oh, uh, okay.”

They walked up to a door flanked by two serious-looking bodyguards. They were wearing civilian clothes that showed off their large builds, though Jon couldn’t see any weapons on them.

“Hey Tuff, hey Joney,” the man said, walking up to them. “Can you, uh, let us in?”

“Hey Skinny.” The bodyguard on the left said. “Who’s the guy?”

“Oh, this guy? Yeah, uh, he’s just here for a meeting, he said. Really helped me out. Name’s, uh, Jon Mourn, if you’ve heard of him.”

“Haven’t.”

“Oh, well, uh, he helps people. A Cleric.”

“Cleric, huh?” he looked at Jon. “And what does your Cleric ass need with a guy like our employer?”

“I need a meeting,” Jon said with a patient smile. “Unfortunately, the contents of the meeting need to stay private, just between us two. But feel free to check me for weapons or anything like that. You can even damage me to make sure my Class is what I say it is. I’m higher-Level, but just a Cleric.”

“Hm.”

It took a few minutes, but after the two bodyguards finished frisking Jon for anything suspicious—the man who was apparently named Skinny standing around and looking nervous the whole time—one of the bodyguards nodded.

“Alright. Just look through this mirror here, and the guys inside’ll be notified. Then they can decide if they wanna let you in.”

“Of course.” Jon looked into a mirror on the side of the wall. Probably Enchanted with a scrying effect, or something.

A few moments passed, and…

Click. The door in front of them unlocked.

“Alright, Jon, head on in,” the bodyguard said. Then, right as Jon was passing by to walk through the door, he placed a hand on Jon’s shoulder. “And don’t do anything stupid, alright? Our employer is not a kind man.”

“Of course.”

Jon walked into a room, up in the top floor of the building. He’d been guided up a flight of stairs to this main office, where he now stood. The floors were creaky and wooden, the walls covered in chipped paint. Overall, it didn’t look good. But it was also full of random extravagant pieces of furniture and decoration. A massive painting at least three and a half paces long and two tall, covering almost half of the entire left wall. What seemed to be a grandiose red jewel, lying haphazardly on a wooden podium that was leaned up against a support beam. A gold-trimmed desk that a man was sitting at.

And the man was who Jon was looking for.

There were several guards in this room, but Jon didn’t mind them. He was on a mission. To do good in the world. And the key to that mission was sitting at that desk.

He turned around. A long scar dragged across his face that morphed when the man’s face turned sour. “My name is Emilio. Who are you, and what are you doing here?”

“My name is Jon Morn. And I just want to talk. Nothing serious.”