The Lawless Zone of Requitas
The lucrative interests of the Lawless Zone Requitas drew the greed of every criminal. One might wonder what kind of wealth could possibly exist in such a dilapidated, wretched city, but there were sweet crumbs to be had. After all, long-accumulated evil has a way of drawing gold and desire to itself.
A pleasure district overflowing with liquor and drugs, women and violence. It was a primal city where only raw instinct breathed. Countless souls threw themselves into the maw of desire here. It was a struggle where one either claimed everything or walked away with only death.
In this wilderness, two factions had managed to survive until the end. The Sewer Rats, who had grown powerful by controlling the drug trade, and the Crescent Moon, who dealt in clandestine information, were the main players.
Both had eliminated their competitors in their own ways to survive. Naturally, having grown so large, they had no reason to leave each other in peace. These two great evils had clawed at each other's throats for a very long time. It was a protracted war. The upper hand shifted constantly, and at times, they lingered in a tense, cold-war-like standoff.
The reason this long struggle was spoken of in the past tense was simple: the war between the two factions had recently come to an end.
Even the tavern keeper didn't seem to know the exact details. He only mentioned that, at some point, the scales had tipped drastically. A monster of a man had appeared, and thanks to him, the Sewer Rats now effectively ruled Requitas. The current Crescent Moon was nothing more than a gathering of defeated remnants.
Ha. Ruling the city with those pieces of trash? I don't know who this guy is, but I definitely need to see his face at least once.
The Sewer Rats. Drug addicts intoxicated by the Mullet Flower. It was a derogatory term born from the fishy, stagnant water stench they exuded as a side effect—a smell that closely resembled a literal sewer. To the public, "sewer rats" referred to those who had hit rock bottom. They were people who had sold their souls for a fleeting moment of pleasure and bartered away their freedom to a powerful addiction, willingly becoming slaves.
Since they lived as little more than walking corpses without their fix, they naturally lacked the capability to interfere in power struggles. However, in this city of sin, the term "Sewer Rats" carried a broader meaning. It encompassed the dealers who manufactured and sold the drugs, those who trafficked the addicts as commodities, and the high-ranking executives who pocketed all the profits from behind the scenes. They had essentially adopted a common slur as the official name of their syndicate.
Sirien and I counted every single one of those Sewer Rats as our enemies.
We have a debt to settle with the Sewer Rats.
On the day Therion died and Hena followed him into the afterlife, the very first enemies we encountered were those Sewer Rats. We had realized they were there to kill us because of that distinct, fishy stench. In a way, the Sewer Rats were the most direct culprits behind Therion and Hena's deaths.
And that wasn't all. Though Edwin had ultimately killed him, there was still the debt owed by the tracker who had pursued us. That tracker, Crux, had been on the Sewer Rats' payroll. This meant the people who had worked alongside him, doing the exact same dirty work, were still alive. Even if Crux himself was now a corpse, our resentment had not vanished. The pain was simply too immense to swallow and forget.
The memory of that day remained lodged in our chests like an unextracted thorn. Even now, merely brushing against it sent a cold, sharp ache through our hearts. Whenever I thought of Therion and Hena, it felt as though something inside me was being violently gouged out with a knife. It was a pain that only Sirien and I shared in this world.
Perhaps we could have chosen to tread carefully, avoiding anything that might disturb the thorn. If we simply never thought of them, it wouldn't hurt. We could have lived that way. But we had chosen to boldly tear the thorn out.
"Did you know? My employer told me to erase you two from this world."
"But you see, there was nothing in the request about killing you gently."
"I hear the young lady of the house is quite beautiful..."
The vividly recalled voice seemed to echo in my ears. They were words unworthy of attention, yet one detail lingered. To erase us from this world. Fortunately, we had not been erased. If so, wasn't it our turn to erase them from this world instead?
The Tears of Tomorrow. The blue-green cocktail slid down my throat.
It's definitely not a taste Sirien would enjoy.
I had harbored some expectations since it was called a cocktail, but it wasn't particularly delicious. It lacked the sweetness Sirien would like, tasting instead like a crude mixture of one strong liquor poured into another. The harsh, distinct sting of alcohol assaulted my nose, completely devoid of any complex flavor, fruity notes, or the rich aroma of aged wood. If someone were to pass out after drinking this, they would undoubtedly spend the entire next day confined to their bed. There was a reason the drink was named "Tears" of Tomorrow.
In the end, I couldn't finish it. It didn't matter, as the alcohol had never been my primary objective anyway.
"Thanks for the useful information. Is this enough money?"
"It is more than enough. I shall put it to good use."
Having gathered all the necessary information, there was no reason to linger in the tavern. Silence escorted us out. On our way to the exit, I caught a glimpse of the owner. He was busy clearing away the three corpses Sirien and I had left behind. One was my doing; the other two belonged to Sirien.
At the very least, there was no one in that tavern capable of recognizing the Authority of Hibras. To an untrained eye, it would have appeared as though she had killed them without lifting a single finger. While skilled swordsmen were a dime a dozen, those who could deliver such a death were exceedingly rare. The unknown would serve as fertile soil for fear to take root.
Come to think of it, Sirien was a bit sulky earlier because of the alcohol.
I figured I should buy her some snacks on the way. Judging by her demeanor, she hadn't entirely cheered up yet. Over our long stint as mercenaries, Sirien had learned to eat almost anything. To be fair, even back at the cabin, she had always been less picky about her food than Therion.
But that didn't mean Sirien had lowered her standards. Just as she had in the Forgotten Forest, her senses remained incredibly sharp. Even though my physical capabilities had skyrocketed after becoming a Sword Master, I still couldn't surpass Sirien when it came to sensory perception. That was why, during our travels across various battlefields, she had always been the one in charge of scouting. Well, with divine power now dwelling within her, Sirien could hardly be classified as an ordinary human anyway.
Sirien's misfortune was that her blessed senses extended even to her sense of taste. Consequently, her "learning to eat well" was essentially synonymous with her "learning to tolerate unpleasant meals." The only exceptions were sweet treats, fruits, and vegetables. She also seemed to enjoy foods that were kept close to their natural, unprocessed state. In fact, until recently, fruit wine had been on that list, but she had been banned from drinking after a certain incident a while back. I had no intention of letting her near alcohol ever again.
"I saw someone selling honey-preserved fruits outside earlier. Do you want some of that?"
"No."
"Alright. On our way... Hm?"
"I saw it too, but I'm not eating it. That wasn't honey. They mixed something weird into it, and it smells awful."
Sirien waved her hand in front of her nose. Even I couldn't see through the veil obscuring her face, but I could practically picture her scowling. If Sirien was refusing something sweet, it meant it was truly inedible. I had been planning to steal a bite if she bought some, so it was a relief we avoided it.
"Is the smell here really that hard on you?"
"It's a bit better than before. Back there, the stench was so bad I felt like my nose was going numb. The back alleys were especially terrible."
"What did it smell like, exactly?"
"Stagnant, filthy sewers on the ground, and a mix of sweat and cheap booze on the people. In the back alleys, there's the scent of fresh blood and old, rotting corpses. And though it's not a smell, I just heard a scream."
"I can hear that too. Two men—no, three. And one woman?"
A small scuffle was taking place a short distance away, behind the alleys. It was probably about two or three blocks over. In a lawless zone like this, a woman was prime prey simply by virtue of her gender. Though her situation might be pitiful, we had no obligation to help. Then again, considering the first scream had come from one of the men, the woman seemed to be holding her own. Besides, we had seen countless fights like this since arriving in Requitas. If we tried to intervene in every single brawl, even ten bodies wouldn't be enough. It was best to mind our own business and focus on ourselves.
"Should we look for an inn first? It'll be better than sleeping rough. I heard there are some decent places if we head deeper inside."
"Let's go. I want to sleep in a proper bed tonight. And I want to take a bath, too."
So, under normal circumstances, I had absolutely no intention of stepping in. My plan was to find a suitable inn and start our search in earnest tomorrow. There was zero reason to interfere in a dispute between nameless strangers. That was, until the men involved said something I couldn't possibly ignore.
"We're all tired here, so why don't you just give up? It was a pain in the ass tracking you down. You're all dead meat anyway. The rumor about your old man running away has already spread everywhere."
"Who knows? Since you're the little princess of the Paper House, maybe our boss will keep you as a pet."
"We get paid by the boss, and you get to be his little darling. It's a win-win, isn't it?"
The Paper House. It was the nickname of the Crescent Moon, the guild that dealt in information.