Dark Moon (1)
Jeron and Sir Leila walked through the ruined underbelly of the city.
Now that they were inside, the situation was clearly far worse than it had appeared from the outside.
Even in broad daylight, drunkards frequently picked fights, and violence ran rampant.
Corpses were scattered here and there along the streets. They had likely lived wretched lives before ending up dead from a stray blade.
Filth of unknown origin flowed in sluggish streams.
Splash! Splash!
The stench of rot was enough to numb the nose.
Shockingly, amidst all this, prostitutes openly bared their skin to solicit business.
"Come have some fun!"
"Hey, handsome! We're a hundred times better than that stiff woman next to you. Or we could make it a threesome, what do you say?"
The women cackled as they looked at Jeron and Leila.
Crash!
Not far away, the sound of a shattering window rang out.
A man was thrown out of a building, only to be trampled by a group of burly thugs.
"Pah! You penniless beggar, who do you think you are coming in here?"
"Please...! I'll sell my own body if I have to, just let me win back my stake!"
"Get lost! Who would want a body ruined by drugs? You're a piece of trash we couldn't even sell as a slave!"
"*Cough!* Please!"
"..."
The man seemed to have been kicked out of a gambling den after running out of money.
He was deathly pale and skin-and-bones; he truly looked unsellable as a slave.
The streets were filled with all kinds of people.
Jeron saw quite a few women being dragged by their hair by heavily tattooed men, but he made an effort not to cause trouble.
He had known for a long time that this was a world without human rights. Getting involved in unnecessary trouble would only lead to a swift death.
Though Jeron and Sir Leila possessed formidable martial strength, even the strongest could be overwhelmed by sheer numbers.
Shhhk!
Jeron unfurled a map.
He checked their direction with a compass, but the labyrinth of narrow, tangled alleys made it incredibly easy to get lost.
It felt like they had been walking in circles for several rounds now.
For a secret organization, making contact with Dark Moon was proving to be no easy task.
Tweet!
A sharp whistle echoed from a dark corner of the alley.
The area was completely cut off from the main streets.
At that moment, Jeron realized something had gone wrong.
The desolate street was devoid of even a single footprint.
If even the desperate dregs of society avoided this place, it was undoubtedly a dangerous zone.
Before long, Jeron and Sir Leila were surrounded by over ten men.
Every single one of them bore a silver wolf tattoo on their neck.
Among them, a massive, muscular man wearing menacing brass knuckles stepped forward.
"Who the hell are you to be snooping around our turf? Who sent you?"
"We simply lost our way. We don't want any trouble."
"Lost your way? I'd sooner believe a dragon eats grass than listen to that pathetic excuse!"
"Boss Jake, that wench is quite a looker. We could fetch a high price for her. As for the guy, let's cut off his limbs and find out who he's working for."
"Hehehe, bring the wench to me before we sell her."
"Of course, boss. Can we have a taste after you're done?"
"Do whatever you want."
"Ohhh!"
Jeron had brought Sir Leila along because he heard Dark Moon had many female operatives, but now he worried if it had been a mistake.
He glanced at Sir Leila's face.
Her expression was frozen cold, betraying no emotion whatsoever.
She had fought tooth and nail to become a knight as a woman, so she had likely heard countless crude remarks like this before.
Back in the fief, no one dared cross her because they knew her temper, but this was foreign territory.
It seemed Sir Leila's beautiful face had invited this trouble.
The thugs rushed forward.
At the same time, Sir Leila lunged at the enemies with terrifying speed.
The disparity in their speed was immense.
Street thugs who did nothing but bully the weak were never going to be a match for her.
Sir Leila's knighthood was not just for show. With her signature swift movements, she cleanly severed the neck of the first charging thug.
Slash! Slash!
Spurt!
In the blink of an eye, three heads flew into the air.
Only then did Jeron realize his worry had been entirely pointless.
To stand a chance against Leila, a knight twice her size would need a heavy shield just to survive a few clashes.
She had not earned the moniker of the Ice Witch for nothing.
Thud!
Splat!
Five headless torsos collapsed into the puddles of filthy water.
The metallic stench of blood spread in all directions.
But Sir Leila did not stop.
As if disgusted by the mere thought of these thugs touching her, she dodged a hand reaching out to grab her and sliced it clean off at the wrist.
Spurt!
A fountain of blood sprayed out.
With his artery severed, the man was as good as dead without immediate medical attention.
She was fast, but she could not kill ten men all at once.
Just then, a thug lunged at Jeron.
"You guys are nothing."
Compared to the mutants, these thugs were child's play.
Jeron cleanly sliced the thug's body in half.
Slash!
Thud!
The skirmish was over in an instant.
The faces of the onlookers peeking from the distance turned pale with horror.
It had taken barely two minutes to wipe out ten men.
"Let's go."
"I am deeply ashamed, my lord. My lack of skill... almost put you in harm's way."
"It's fine. We should leave this area."
They had been wandering for hours.
Covered in blood, they had traversed the red-light district.
They had been picked on twice more, and because they had slaughtered everyone who challenged them, they now had people tailing them.
However, escaping this place was no easy task due to the labyrinthine streets.
"Sigh... What a godforsaken place."
"It seems we must hire a guide, my lord."
"Indeed. We'll have to enter a tavern and hire someone."
They stopped walking, only to find themselves in another dead end.
The map they had bought for a hefty sum was proving to be utterly useless.
"Where on earth is the Waning Moon?"
That was the name of the tavern Jeron was looking for.
He had asked several people for directions, but most had claimed not to know.
Those who did respond were either hostile or tried to rob them.
Even for a lawless district, it was hard to believe humans could live in such squalor and depravity.
It defied Jeron's common sense.
As they prepared to turn back, several figures dressed in black dropped down from above.
Shring.
Sir Leila stepped forward, raising her guard.
Jeron also drew his sword.
Just in case, he kept his hand close to the pistol at his waist.
The masked men in black before them looked far from ordinary.
At the sight of them, the local thugs immediately scattered and vanished.
The leader of the masked men stepped forward and pulled down his mask.
A distinct waning moon tattoo was etched onto his neck.
"Where the moon lingers."
It sounded like nonsense, but it was a code phrase.
Ark Farrow had provided Jeron with information on Dark Moon, including how to contact them.
He had told Jeron to get the finer details from the branch manager once they met.
"A secret code is required when making contact. When they approach you and say, 'Where the moon lingers,' you must reply, 'A shadow remains.'"
"Isn't that code a bit corny, Father?"
"Ahem! Your father put his heart and soul into creating that code."
The masked men stood completely still.
Jeron took his hand off his pistol.
"A shadow remains."
"We greet the new Master."
"Are you the manager of this branch?"
"I am. I shall guide you from here on. My name is Evan."
The masked men surrounded Jeron and Leila, escorting them.
The attitude of the people on the streets changed instantly.
They scrambled inside buildings in terror or fell to their knees, trembling.
Just as Ark Farrow had said, Dark Moon had established a solid foothold in the north and wielded significant influence in the underworld.
Even the lawless dregs of the slums trembled in fear, suggesting the black masks had become a symbol of terror.
They walked quickly through the complex streets.
Despite his massive frame, Evan moved with agile grace.
Now that their safety was assured, Jeron had room to notice his surroundings.
The stench of rotting corpses assailed his nose from all sides.
In the middle of a dilapidated alley stood a tavern marked with a waning moon symbol.
"We have arrived."
There were guards posted right at the entrance of the tavern.
The patrons drinking inside did not look like ordinary citizens either.
They entered a passage that connected the tavern to the underground aqueducts.
If the red-light district was a labyrinth, the underground aqueducts were a maze of a different scale.
An entirely different world unfolded beneath the city.
Jeron naturally recalled Ark Farrow's words.
"It may be hard to believe, but the underground of Hanes County is a world of its own. While Count Hanes rules the surface, the underworld is a different story. I tried to seize control of it using Dark Moon, but it was no easy task. Still, the 'Black Reapers' of Dark Moon are well-feared, so if you play your cards right, you can claim dominion over the northern underworld."
Ark Farrow had not been exaggerating.
Jeron had wondered what kind of underworld could exist here, but the reality surpassed his expectations.
The history of Hanes County stretched back to the era of the ancient Empire.
The Empire referred to here was the unified empire of a thousand years ago.
As a territory where major rivers intersected, it had been a vital transportation hub even in ancient times.
Consequently, the underground aqueducts were vast and complex, housing a subterranean population of tens of thousands.
Far removed from the reach of the law, various underground syndicates ruled through violence, turning the place into a hotbed of crime.
As the "Black Reapers"—who resembled assassins—passed by, the underground residents bowed their heads as if paying respects to a lord.
I heard even Count Hanes gave up on subjugating this place.
To think such an underworld thrived right beneath a bustling city.
Since it was populated by the poor and outlaws, the living conditions were abysmal. The stagnant stench of rot lingered heavily, making life here far harsher than on the surface.
After walking for about twenty minutes, they reached a spot where a large waning moon symbol was carved into the center of the aqueduct wall.
When the door was opened, the foul odor dissipated slightly.
Unlike the dilapidated exterior, the interior was kept in a relatively clean and orderly state.
Buildings were clustered tightly within a wide cavern, and Black Reapers stood guard at every corner.
It was a veritable tiger's den.
Jeron was surprised to find that Dark Moon's scale was much larger than he had anticipated.
Everyone present in the hall knelt at Jeron's feet.
"We greet the new Master!"
"We greet the new Master!"
Didn't Father say there were only two hundred members in the entire north?
Jeron could not help but be surprised.
The two hundred members Ark Farrow had mentioned referred only to the core operatives. It seemed they had recruited a significant number of local agents as well.
I didn't expect much from them.
Jeron would have been satisfied if they could just gather basic information from various regions.
But with an underworld organization of this scale?
He might be able to use them to accomplish much greater things.