Dusk to Dawn Vendetta
In the heart of Guild City, each of the twenty districts in Downtown carries its own distinct theme.
For instance, the 2nd District—renowned for finance with places like Shylock Bank—is nicknamed the Golden Street.
The 19th District is Steel Heart Street, where blacksmiths congregate, while the 6th District, home to the biotech guild, is nominally the Street of Life despite its strong undercurrent of quackery.
Among them, the one that cannot be overlooked is Downtown’s very symbol: the 1st District. It is where even among the giant guilds, the ones that operate on an entirely different scale gather.
Super-giant guilds that the word “mega” barely begins to describe—the so-called Megacorps—are concentrated here.
The name itself is equally grandiose: Megacorp Street.
Yet the place Solomon was heading toward was none of those.
It was the 8th District of Downtown, where the Selene Family’s grand mansion stood. Compared to the nicknames mentioned earlier, the 8th District felt somewhat lacking in several ways.
The Street of Groceries.
Coincidentally, the stronghold of the elf mafia—the Selene Family—was located there. It was hardly surprising.
Selene Distribution Company.
Selene grocery stores bearing that same name could be found throughout the city. There was even a branch in the Lower District.
And there, the Lower District’s peculiar common sense of “why pay when you can steal” simply did not apply. When Solomon first witnessed the scene, he had doubted his own eyes.
Even the criminals of the Lower District—who treated law and morality like garbage—became model citizens at Selene grocery stores. It was a miracle of conscience.
At first he had assumed some kind of moral rearmament barrier was in effect.
……So this was the true nature of the magic.
In a sense, it really was magic.
Mafia magic.
In a city where fists spoke louder than law and blades and spells spoke louder than fists, the distribution business was not something just anyone could run.
Even so, the Street of Groceries was one of the rare places in Downtown that carried the genuine scent of people living their lives.
Rows of two- and three-story brick houses stretched endlessly, forming the streets. In the narrow alleys, milk deliverymen could be seen hurrying along with rattling carts.
Girls carrying baskets of eggs that cost only a few krona apiece were selling them on the corners.
True to its name, it was a place where people bought and sold modest goods.
The smell of baking bread drifted on the air.
A street where people lived their indifferent, day-to-day lives. The scent of existence that continued even without quests.
……So Guild City really is a place where people live.
Even as those thoughts crossed his mind, Solomon’s attention remained fixed on the grand mansion towering in the distance.
Of course, he wasn’t looking with his own eyes. Through the overlapping visions of the black spirits flapping through the sky or perched atop streetlamps, countless scenes of the 8th District layered across his sight.
Like a drone operator surveying the area from above through a camera feed.
As he advanced across the residential district in that state, the number of people visibly dwindled.
The desolate landscape made it clear that not even footsteps reached this far.
Occasionally dark elves wearing fedoras and dark brown coats appeared, each one radiating a thoroughly menacing aura. It was as if the words “I am mafia” were plastered openly across their faces.
At the end of that vicious-looking street stood the Selene Family’s grand mansion.
Around the mansion there were no grocery stores, no street stalls, no children wandering about selling eggs or milk. The street was utterly empty—not even an ant in sight.
Despite being located in the heart of Downtown, the mansion featured a wide front yard and a meticulously maintained garden. In that garden grew blue-and-black flowers of unknown origin.
In every corner of the meticulously tended garden, bloodsunflowers and corpseblooms are thriving luxuriantly.
They are flowers that grow by drinking blood and flowers that take decaying corpses as their nutrients.
It appears that someone with a pretty heart who loves flowers has tended them with utmost care.
Solomon decided not to imagine the fertilizer buried beneath the garden.
When he approached the iron gate at the mansion’s entrance, the door opened by itself. Solomon followed the executor across the marble floor leading inside.
An old-fashioned mansion reminiscent of a medieval noble’s castle, completely out of place in this era.
As dark elves who appeared to belong to the Selene Family watched him from every direction, a gnome who looked like a butler approached and spoke.
“Welcome, Sir Solomon. The boss has been expecting you.”
* * *
The place the gnome butler led him to was an office on the mansion’s highest floor. It was no ordinary office. This was the seat of the head of the Selene Family—one of the five great families among the elf mafia.
“Show proper respect before the godmother, short-eared one.”
At the entrance, another dark elf wearing a fedora pressed low over his eyes issued the warning. Short-eared one.
“Yeah, you’re so impressive with those long ears of yours.”
Solomon answered as if it had nothing to do with him.
“Enter.”
At that moment a voice rang out—cold and brimming with authority.
Inside the office, a silhouette sat with her back to the backlight of the setting sun.
“Mistress Selene.”
A dark elf exuding both overwhelming presence and refined dignity befitting the head of an organization.
She wore an expensive fur shawl over her shoulders and obsidian earrings that glittered in the backlight. Though adorned with countless luxurious ornaments from head to toe, none of it felt excessive.
Rather, an elegance that overpowered all those decorations resided within her very being.
The poise truly worthy of the leader of an entire family—
“Welcome, contractor from Hotel Snark.”
So saying, the head of the Selene Family extended her hand. Solomon approached and lightly kissed the back of it. In that instant he instinctively sensed it.
An unimaginably deep, dark mana flickered within her.
Dark elf necromancer…
She wasn’t even trying to conceal it.
“You must have already heard the details of the request?”
“……Yes.”
“It must have been tiring, dealing with the ridiculous farce those pointy-eared fools put on. Wasn’t it?”
“I simply carry out the request. I don’t care about appearances, and I have no interest in them either.”
Solomon answered calmly.
That just now sounded pretty professional, honestly.
Swallowing a small surge of satisfaction, Solomon continued his thoughts. Come to think of it, he really was a pro.
“Where is the target?”
“Here.”
So saying, the family’s godmother Selene produced an object. It was a button box. Nothing grand enough to be called a device—just a small box with a single red button attached.
“The instant this button is pressed, the poison gas device will activate and the ‘Respected Elf’ will die.”
“……”
“You could call it a kind of kill switch.”
Kill switch?
Solomon was dumbfounded.
The button box before you is an empty container with no internal mechanisms whatsoever.
It was an absurd lie. He could tell the moment he saw it.
There had never been any poison gas device. Pressing it would change nothing. It was literally just a click. Completely useless.
“……You’ve already killed him.”
The Respected Elf is already dead. Solomon will never see him.
He realized it instantly.
From the very beginning this had been nothing more than post-mortem processing.
“Well, I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”
Hearing those words, Mistress Selene burst into laughter.
“The Respected Elf is still alive. At least until you press that button.”
“……”
After laughing, she continued in a cold voice.
“Whether it is true or not, the important thing is that he is formally alive.”
Selene recited the fabricated sentence without so much as blinking.
“We must avoid the dishonor of having a respected kin killed by another elf’s hand.”
“So you needed someone to ‘kill’ him again. Formally—”
“Formality is the discipline that binds elf society together and protects our racial identity.”
Selene shrugged.
“In comparison, truth and facts are utterly trivial. No elf is an exception.”
In other words, once formality was observed, truth and facts ceased to matter.
The elven way of thinking was completely incomprehensible. There had never been any need to understand it anyway.
As a contractor from Hotel Snark, Solomon simply carried out the request and received his payment.
So he silently glanced at the grandfather clock on the office wall.
There was roughly one minute left until 8:16 p.m., the moment of sunset. Fifty-three seconds, fifty-two, fifty-one…
Nothing would change.
As requested, Solomon would carry out the formal execution of the “Respected Elf” at the exact moment of sunset.
Afterward, according to the organization’s rules, he would have to face the three enforcers who would move to avenge their kin.
Even if the entire thing was a meaningless formal performance.
Three seconds. Two. One.
When the time came, Solomon pressed the button without hesitation.
Click.
It was a truly meaningless action. Nevertheless, the moment Solomon pressed the button, Selene gave a cold smile.
“Ah, so our organization’s Respected Elf has been murdered. I wonder who could have done such a thing.”
“……”
“Whoever it was, it is a truly heartbreaking tragedy. I cannot contain my grief.”
The flat, textbook-like tone left Solomon dumbfounded.
“Therefore, for the honor of our slain kin, we must carry out the blood revenge as is proper.”
“……”
“Because that is the rule of our organization.”
Of course, what came after was different.
“Erinyes.”
Selene spoke. Not in the earlier textbook tone, but in a voice so cold it seemed to freeze the air.
Erinyes are the three goddesses of vengeance worshipped by dark elves.
They are also the three sisters who respectively symbolize revenge and fury, and the hatred born of betrayal.
“Tisiphone, Alecto, Megaera. I swear before your names—”
“An irreversible blood vendetta.”
Suppressing the inexplicable chill running down his spine, Solomon remained silent.
“Murderer of the Respected Elf, you have been cursed by the three goddesses of vengeance.”
“……”
“From the moment you leave this mansion until the next dawn arrives… according to the organization’s rules, the three goddesses of vengeance shall pursue you.”
A solemn, formal voice rang out. The request was not yet over.
“—From dusk until dawn.”
No, it was only now beginning.
If the kin’s revenge is carried out honorably,
or if one survives until dawn while evading the enforcers,
or if all enforcers are eliminated before the sun rises,
the Selene Family shall solemnly accept the outcome in the name of the organization’s code and the honor of the race.
The three enforcers who would hunt Solomon, named after the three sister goddesses of vengeance.
It was time to begin a deadly game of tag, all to preserve a meaningless formality.
* * *
Solomon did not hesitate. He immediately left the office, ignoring the dark elves who glared at him with murderous intent, and strode across the mansion. Through the garden blooming with black and blue flowers.
Before long he stood before the iron gate of the grand mansion. The moment he took a single step beyond it, the game of tag would begin.
Solomon silently gripped the Ghostwhale Bone Blade hidden in his sleeve and drew the modified Nightfall crossbow in advance.
Click. Clack!
The crossbow’s frame and mechanical parts, folded in multiple layers, unfolded all at once. The satisfying sound of meshing gears echoed.
The Nightfall modified crossbow, newly reborn after receiving the Deadlock Workshop’s heavy-grade modification for this very day.
And finally, the black spirits still circling the sky above the street like surveillance drones.
Having finished his preparations, he took a step. Beyond the garden full of blooming flowers, past the twilight boundary that separated the Selene Family’s grand mansion from the street.
Step.