Chapter 50
Chapter 50
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 50
Chapter Title: Question (1)
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Oliver, Cant, and Iron Fist—coated head to toe in sticky slime—descended below the dumpster.
No one knew how long it had been festering down there, but the stench was so thick and foul that it was enough to ruin their clothes beyond saving.
But that was the least of their worries right now.
The underground sewer's reek was far worse than the smell clinging to Oliver, Cant, and Iron Fist.
His nose was starting to ache, and a headache was brewing, so Oliver released Sensitive Nose.
The stench was still awful, but much more bearable than before.
At least it didn't feel like his head was about to split open.
"Oh, heavens... To think I'd see a secret sewer like this."
Cant spoke as if it were familiar territory. Oliver asked,
"Are there more places like this?"
"Well... Randa may have suffered a major setback in the past, but it's a city with deep history. It was an outpost of the ancient empire and later served as a key city and stronghold. Over the centuries, they've developed the underground extensively too. From ancient sewers to medieval ones, and modern ones layered two or three deep."
"Oh..."
"That's why they say there's a city beneath the city in Randa. It's mostly used by gangs, fixers, and big shots in the underworld."
"Hmm... Beggars don't use it? The smell's bad, sure, but it looks warm and cozy."
"Good point. Even so, beggars avoid it. Most sewers connect in ways that can lead to run-ins with dangerous gangs if you're not careful. Beggars dying on the surface is no big deal, but down here, even 'no big deal' turns deadly."
"Ah... So, the Mole Gang using this place means...?"
"...Either they've lost their minds, or they've got something reliable backing them."
"Something reliable?"
"Who knows... Maybe their numbers swelled and gave them confidence, or they found a powerful backer."
"I see."
Oliver and Cant traded words back and forth.
Then Iron Fist, trailing behind, cut in.
"Hold on... Oliver, you...!"
"Yes?"
"How did you know about this secret passage?"
"Uh, can I explain later? It's a bit hard to talk about right now..."
"No, explain now. You're acting way too suspicious."
"Well, that's..."
Oliver hesitated awkwardly. Cant spoke up.
"We'll talk about that later."
"Cant?"
"Right now, saving Harmonica is what matters. How we found it doesn't, right?"
"Still, even so..."
Iron Fist tried to argue with Cant, but as their eyes met, he clamped his mouth shut and bowed his head.
Along with it came a bubbling rage that looked ready to explode.
"Oliver. Do you know where Harmonica is now?"
Oliver nodded.
He'd released Sensitive Nose because of the smell, but they'd come far enough that it wasn't an issue.
Oliver focused his eyes.
With that, the black magician's vision sharpened further, revealing various glowing emotions in the darkness.
A dozen adults, twenty kids... deep in the sewer.
"They're in there, further ahead."
"Phew... Good."
"But there are other people besides the kids."
Other people. No doubt, the ones who'd kidnapped the children.
Cant gripped his quarterstaff as if he'd expected it and said,
"Doesn't matter. Lead the way. As quietly as possible."
Oliver nodded and began moving cautiously.
Darkness surrounded them on all sides, but it posed no problem for Oliver with his black magician's sight.
Cant followed smoothly, as if accustomed to it, but surprisingly, Iron Fist struggled to keep up.
Was he not used to the dark?
"Ah, don't mind me."
Iron Fist whispered lowly.
His face showed irritation and shame, but oddly, his emotions gleamed more with serpentine cunning than those.
As if he were scheming something.
But Cant didn't notice, ordering Oliver to keep going forward. Oliver obeyed, heading deeper into the sewer.
Step. Step. Step.
As the emotions drew nearer, faint footsteps echoed.
Cant grabbed Oliver's shoulder to halt him, then pressed a finger to his lips.
The footsteps grew clearer, accompanied by voices.
"Ah... Fuck, how long do we have to watch these bratty kids?"
"Why complain? We're getting paid to babysit. What's so hard about it?"
"The crying gets on my nerves. My head's pounding..."
"That's why we beat the shit out of 'em earlier, right? Just hit 'em moderately... Didn't you get chewed out by Henry last time for damaging the goods?"
"I barely touched 'em. Kids are supposed to be raised with a good beating, aren't they? Anyway, I just hate being in this stinking place."
"Thud. Thud. It's not that bad."
"That's 'cause you're used to it."
"Ah, quit griping. This gig pays well anyway... By the way, where are they selling these brats? We don't need more beggar kids. Even I don't wanna see more kids getting their limbs chopped off for sale."
"Beats me? Factories or farms maybe? Girls to brothels?"
"Ugh! That's rough. These ones ain't pretty enough for good spots."
With that, they burst into mocking laughter.
They seemed very accustomed to this work, which made them careless.
Oliver glanced at Cant.
His emotions rippled with disgust and anger, but they were calm and controlled.
He quietly pressed a finger to his lips, drew a knife from his pocket, and gripped the quarterstaff long in his other hand.
Then he crouched low like a cat and crept forward silently.
Like a beast.
As he closed the distance, Cant thrust the quarterstaff deep into one man's throat, then drove the knife into the other one's neck.
"Gurk...!"
Human life was surprisingly resilient.
The stabbed man bulged his eyes and struggled.
But Cant didn't fluster; he twisted the knife to finish him, then plunged it into another beggar's nape.
Smooth and relentless, like flowing water.
Even more impressive: not a single scream escaped, despite taking down two at once.
Not hard with black magic, but bare-handed like that?
Quite the fresh sight.
"Mind helping me hide the bodies?"
At Cant's request, Iron Fist approached and dragged the corpses out of sight.
The group pressed on.
The deeper they went, the more magic stone lamps lit the area,
and the more people there were, making movement tricky. Cant signaled to clench fists and hold breath at a good spot.
Then he peeked ahead.
There, beggars armed with blackjacks and clubs stood guard over children huddled trembling in a corner.
"Damn it..."
Cant muttered lowly at the sight.
"What's wrong, Cant?"
"Harmonica's there."
Iron Fist peeked alongside Cant and asked,
"...That's a lot of them. What's the plan?"
"Hmm..."
"We're too few right now. Better to head out, round up more people?"
"...No. Who knows what could happen on the way back. We've already killed two on the road today. We settle this here."
"B-but—"
"—I'll go ahead and draw their attention. You and Oliver slip around the side, grab Harmonica, and escape. Let the other kids run too."
"Other kids?"
"Yeah. We might not save 'em all, but a good number could get away... Think you can do it?"
"...Yes. I can."
"Then I'm counting on you."
With that, Cant gripped his knife and crept forward, hunched low again.
He hurled it at the oblivious beggars—and astonishingly, it pierced one's throat dead center in one throw.
"...!"
"What?"
"...Huh?"
The beggars panicked.
Cant seized the momentum, charging into their midst and swinging the quarterstaff.
Not just flailing a stick—refined techniques that even Oliver, an outsider, could see were highly skilled and precise.
The quarterstaff's ends served as both weapon and shield, smashing and repelling incoming foes.
"What the fuck! Where'd this bastard come from?!"
"Surround him! Surround!"
"Fuck you try it! This guy's fuckin'—kack!"
The enemy beggars swung clubs in resistance, but compared to Cant's quarterstaff, their reach and skill fell short, nullifying their numbers.
Whenever they tried encircling, Cant swept the staff wide to break it and methodically dropped them one by one.
Overwhelming multiple foes solo. Then—
Bang!
A gunshot echoed, drawing all eyes to its source.
A bowler-hatted beggar had appeared.
"That's far enough."
At the gun's appearance, the beggars around Cant fled far back.
Terrified of catching a bullet themselves.
"Hmm... Ah! I remember. You're the guy I beat down the other day."
Cant's taunt hit a nerve; the bowler hat exploded in fury.
He swung the gun like a sword and bellowed,
"Ha...! Still acting tough, huh? Let's see if you can after I put a hole in you! Huh?!"
"What? Gonna shoot? Your grip screams you don't even know how. You sure? You'll just embarrass yourself more. Getting wrecked by a limping old man—even with a gun?"
Cant slowly closed the distance as he spoke. The bowler hat pointed behind Cant and said,
"Ah, don't worry about that. I've got reliable backup."
A loaded statement.
Sensing something off, Cant turned.
That's when his eyes met Oliver's.
More precisely, Oliver's—grabbed by Iron Fist.
"What is this...?"
The bowler hat jeered,
"Plan went a bit sideways, but no biggie... Thought all your underlings were idiots, but turns out one gets it. A friend who can see the future, even."
Cant stared at the betrayer, Iron Fist, and asked,
"...Why are you doing this?"
"Cant... I'm grateful you took me in, but that doesn't mean I wanna spend my life scraping for beggars forever!? I don't wanna die a beggar under you... I'll do whatever it takes to escape this life! So drop the weapon."
Iron Fist yelled threats at Cant.
His rage-filled voice boomed through the sewer. Cant silently watched, then gently closed his eyes.
And astonishingly, with a fragile yet beautiful glow, he dropped the quarterstaff to the ground.
'.......Why?'
Bang! Roll, roll, roll...
As the quarterstaff clattered lonesomely, laughter erupted one by one.
"Puhahaha... Dumbass actually dropped his weapon over a useless beggar!"
"Yeah... Just kill the idiot and it's over. Know that? Your gang's probably done for by now! That was the real plan."
"Damn right! Our buddies already headed there!"
Oliver watched the scene silently.
The man who'd dropped his weapon for his sake, and the kidnappers mocking him.
Honestly, Oliver felt much the same as the kidnappers.
Cant's act of disarming didn't make sense to him either.
Why risk himself for a stranger? Or rather, was it just like him?
He'd helped Oliver selflessly, even letting him stay with his beggar crew.
Consistent, yet incomprehensible self-sacrifice. Altruism... In this moment, Oliver desperately wanted to know why.
"Fuck... I'd love to torment you for days, but we're busy. So just die already."
The bowler hat stepped closer, aimed the gun, and pulled the trigger.
Bang!
"...Huh?"
Everyone uttered a dumbfounded noise.
Staring at the mysterious black curtain that suddenly appeared to shield Cant.
Then, someone spoke.
"Sorry, but I have a question for him first."
All eyes turned to the voice.
There stood Iron Fist, impaled and dead on black spikes, with Oliver calmly in front of him.
Everyone stared in silence. Trembling in terror.