Tavern Takedown and the Hidden Descent
After three or four people went flying out, the sounds of shattering bottles, shouts, screams, and something splintering inside the tavern kept coming. The sight of the fluffy black Kampoeni swordsman darting around inside was captivating.
"...What the hell's going on in there?"
"Looks like we weren't the first guests."
Jin-cheol replied with a smirk to Peran's bewildered question.
It wasn't just Parm who was trapped underground in the temple. There were Sandesiya pirates who'd been captured and dragged off two months ago. And Haeta and Aiman from Sandesiya had come all the way to Siol looking for them.
Jin-cheol's mind raced. There weren't many assumptions he could make from the immediate info at hand.
Aiman, who'd come searching for people, was the one causing the chaos in there. Haeta and Aiman had probably been looking for a way down to Siol's underground city too. They had to rescue that pirate named Harmen from the temple basement.
Jin-cheol and his crew had planned to make a mess too. They needed to give Metidoti a beating anyway, and get his info.
In the end, Aiman's goal—flipping through the air and smashing two Olrog thugs' heads—matched Jin-cheol's group exactly. Crack Metidoti's skull and find the way down to Siol's underground city.
Aiman was literally the first guest.
A gunshot—bang—shattered Jin-cheol's rolling thoughts.
It came from inside the tavern.
"Let's go. If we just watch, there won't be any soup left for us."
"Huh? Soup out of nowhere...?"
Leaving Peran's confused retort behind, Jin-cheol charged. He kicked through the half-broken tavern door, smashing it completely, and quickly scanned the interior.
The first floor, which doubled as a tavern and bare-knuckle fight pit like the Golden Whale, was already a total wreck. Smashed tables and chairs, crumpled Essai and Olrog thugs here and there, broken bottles, scattered glasses.
In the magnificent middle of that mess stood a impeccably dressed Kampoeni on a table—the black-robed Aiman, just as he'd seen before.
There was a balcony-style railing on the second floor overlooking the first. That was the source of the gunshot they'd heard outside. Three Essai with pistols and short rifles were aiming down at the first floor.
The eyes of Aiman and the Essai, who had been glaring at each other, snapped toward Jin-cheol as he burst through the remaining door.
Aiman lit up.
"Jin-cheol? How'd you end up here?"
"Who the fuck are you! One of his buddies?!"
The Essai guns swung toward Jin-cheol. He instantly stepped on a table edge and leaped up to the second floor. Before the Essai could react in surprise, he was on them.
He tapped the knee of the nearest one—crack—it bent backward. He backhanded the guy's crumpling face aside, twisted the hand of the next one shoving a pistol barrel at him. The pistol and hand crumpled like in a press, firing off—bang—in a random direction.
He smacked the guy's Adam's apple as he tried to scream in pain—gack—eyes rolling back. He yanked the hand aside and stepped in front of the third, who hesitated with his short rifle, unable to shoot either Aiman or Jin-cheol.
The third guy flinched back to his senses and raised the barrel at Jin-cheol's face. But Jin-cheol grabbed the muzzle and bent it sideways like taffy—creeeak.
"...!"
The Essai's face filled with terror at the sight of the steel pipe bending like a toy. The next instant, Jin-cheol's fist lightly tapped his solar plexus—hurk—he vomited up his guts and collapsed on top of it.
Jin-cheol dusted his hands and stood at the railing. Aiman looked up at him with a pleased expression for some reason.
Suddenly, Jin-cheol's eyes caught the Essai's leg snapped backward like a twig. Even with controlled strength, it broke like that. How the hell did that little furball withstand a full kick without thinking? Iron plates in his gut or something?
Aiman, looking up, raised a hand and said,
"We meet again after just one night, Jin-cheol. So, have you given any thought to my proposal in the meantime?"
"What proposal?"
"Learning some simple swordsmanship. As I said before, there are a few moves that suit you perfectly."
That again? Jin-cheol chuckled in disbelief as Peran and the others burst into the tavern. But it was already cleaned up inside, and the three just blinked alternately at Jin-cheol and Aiman.
Jin-cheol spoke first.
"What are you doing here?"
"What else? Educating these dumb thugs."
"What about that girl, Haeta?"
Aiman's face, gazing at Jin-cheol with a strange heat, snapped in surprise. He hopped down from the table like he'd just realized something and shouted,
"There's a room on the second floor! Haeta went up there ages ago and hasn't come down!"
What the hell outta nowhere? But instead of asking, Jin-cheol turned and kicked open the door at the back of the second-floor balcony. The wooden door shattered off its hinges and fell inside.
"..."
Jin-cheol walked in wordlessly. He heard Aiman's footsteps scurrying up behind.
Aiman, seeing the scene inside, bellowed,
"You bastard! Get your hand off her!"
"Shut up! Don't move from there! You! Jin-cheol! You too, don't move!"
Jin-cheol and Aiman froze. Before them was a large, ornate room with a wide, heavy wooden table. Behind it stood a black-footed Kampoeni holding an Essai girl—knife to her throat. His fangs were capped in silver, gleaming.
Tension locked in an instant. Aiman and the black-footed Kampoeni, Metidoti, glared at each other, growling low. Jin-cheol coldly fixed on the dagger at her throat.
The Essai girl, Haeta, held her breath with a mix of fear, exhaustion, and frustration.
Metidoti hid behind the girl. Similar height let his body stay concealed. He shouted from behind her,
"First, both of you drop your weapons!"
"What weapons?"
Metidoti's eyes checked Jin-cheol and Aiman's hands after his yell. Jin-cheol was empty-handed; Aiman held only his staff—which was disguised, but still just that.
Seeing that, Metidoti shook his head, regaining composure, and yelled,
"Why the fuck did you show up here outta nowhere causing shit, Jin-cheol?!"
"You fucking moron? You heard from Dol Jumeok yesterday. I came to return the favor for your 'gift'."
"That..."
The guy rolled his eyes, then switched targets to Aiman.
"You! Knock out the guy next to you! Or you'll watch this girl's throat get slit!"
"Don't talk stupid. Remove that knife from her right now, or you'll face Sandesiya-style payback."
"...Sandesiya-style payback?"
Aiman bared his teeth in a growl.
"I'll tie your limbs and flay your skin a hundred times a day. After each flaying session, I'll heal you up just to keep you alive until the next. Then for three years, I'll strip every scrap of flesh from your body. Until only bones and guts remain."
Madness and killing intent swirled in Aiman's gleaming eyes. Meeting that half-crazed gaze, Metidoti lost his words, swallowing dryly.
Then Jin-cheol's eyes flicked to Haeta. Even through her fear, resolve hardened in her gaze. Seeing it, Jin-cheol gave a slight nod.
Instantly, she chomped down hard on Metidoti's hand.
"Argh! You bitch—"
Metidoti yanked his hand back in shock and tried to stab her throat with it. But it froze mid-air.
"...?"
Metidoti saw a bare hand gripping his dagger blade. Jin-cheol's, who'd closed in silently.
Their eyes met, and—thwack—a heavy thud echoed.
Metidoti tumbled backward; Aiman fumbled to catch Haeta. Jin-cheol flicked off the held blade and checked his hand. A shallow gash across the palm. Blood beaded up, then stopped. He shook it off and turned to Haeta with a grin.
"We meet again?"
*
"So, you and your friends are planning a prison break too? But actually, these friends of yours are the ones locked up on top of that prison?"
Aiman said, puffing smoke from his pipe. One leg crossed, sitting a bit thuggish—the look didn't suit his fluffy face at all.
This guy's never making it on 'Tobi and Friends' kids' show, Jin-cheol thought, but nodded anyway. He'd roughly explained why he and his group had come this far.
Now they'd cleared out the thugs littering the tavern, sat the unconscious Metidoti in the middle, and boarded up the door.
Aiman eyed Peran through the smoke.
"Wouldn't finding the real culprit be better than sneaking people out? You're famous warriors; that might be faster."
"The scene, bodies, suspects—all in Kasian's hands. To find the real killer, we'd have to comb through it all, but he won't let us."
"Aren't you seeing that Kasian guy in too bad a light? He might've just grabbed them to find the murderer."
"If you knew his usual words and actions, you wouldn't think that... More importantly, are you really the famed black-robed Aiman?"
Aiman chuckled heartily at Peran's question, puffing away. Morel's eyes sparkled beside her. Aiman soaked up their gazes smugly, subtly checking Jin-cheol's reaction—like he was proud even Siol's warriors recognized him.
His simple antics made him seem like a Kampoeni, so Jin-cheol shook his head slightly.
"Anyway, what were you doing here?"
"...Looking for a way into the temple prison. Like you."
He averted his eyes awkwardly at Jin-cheol's reaction, blowing smoke.
"We had info this guy knew a back way in. So we came, and Haeta went up alone to negotiate on the second floor."
"You let her go up alone?"
"What else? We came to trade info, not fuck around. The fucking around was on their end. Haeta'd been up forever with no sign, then bam—the tea they gave her was drugged. So we cracked skulls, and you showed up."
Jin-cheol glanced at Haeta. She startled under his gaze, steadying her complexion in a chair.
"Uh, well... After he took me to the room for the info trade, he started saying weird shit. Like, 'Anyone recently pickled a body?' or 'You know temple warriors?' Kept asking strange questions forever, then chaos downstairs and he pulls a knife outta nowhere... But what does 'pickling a body' even mean? Like soaking in a tub?"
"Tub works too. Water's the key. Anyway, I get what this idiot was thinking."
Jin-cheol stood from his chair and walked to Metidoti, tied unconscious to his.
"Keep pretending to be out, and I'll let that old man experiment flaying on you."
"..."
Metidoti's closed eyes cracked open slyly. Realizing the stares, he ducked his head sheepishly.
Jin-cheol continued watching him.
"You thought the rampaging temple warriors were because of those two?"
"...Obvious deduction. Rampaging warriors seeking prison entry, Sandesiya folk recently jailed. Gotta be connected, right?"
"Smartass little shit. All wrong."
"Wrong? Then what?"
"You think I'd tell you? Cut the crap and spill the underground city entrance."
Metidoti clammed up. He rolled his eyes, gauging the room.
Jin-cheol loomed crookedly over him.
"What're you scheming? You think there's a way out without spilling in this spot?"
"...Guarantee my life. Not just you—from those Essai warriors too. Promise not to kill me for guarding underground secrets. Then I'll talk."
Ha. Jin-cheol let out a hollow laugh. Peran and Morel's eyes chilled hearing it.
Jin-cheol squatted to eye level with Metidoti.
"Hey. Think you'd believe me if I said I'd let you live here?"
"...You will?"
Jin-cheol's face went blank. Morel, watching, flinched and rubbed his neck—recalling the last time he'd seen that face. The others felt a chill too.
With that expressionless face, Jin-cheol said,
"You sent an assassin to kill me over fixing a gambling match. That assassin's dead already. Now it's your turn. That's set in stone. No ifs or maybes. You're dead."
Their eyes locked. Metidoti glared back wildly, like a staring contest, even baring teeth through the blood.
But after three or four breaths, his face cracked. Jin-cheol's stayed the same, not a twitch. No sharp anger, no fiery excitement. Just fact.
"..."
Metidoti was soon panting. Tears welled, lips quivering. But he couldn't look away, trapped by Jin-cheol's eyes.
"Th-then... I, I'll never, never talk..."
"Don't. Makes it more fun for me."
A crooked smile twisted over the poorly drawn face. A smile warped in war's flames. And in his hand—a dagger. Metidoti's own.
The blade tip danced gracefully to his gut. Soon, drips echoed. Metidoti had pissed himself.
The dagger pressed slowly into his belly skin, ignoring it.
Finally, Metidoti screamed like a banshee.
"...Underground! Underground! Entrance hidden here! Don't stab!"
Jin-cheol pulled the knife away and stood. He tossed it to the floor—thunk—and grinned.
"You pussy—how'd you become back-alley boss? This fucker's pants are soaked. Real boss someone else?"
"Y-you... won't... kill...?"
Jin-cheol raised his hand sharply. Metidoti yelped and cringed.
Jin-cheol shook his head at the sight.
"Why kill you here? We're going together."
"...Where?"
"Underground. You lead."
He grabbed Metidoti from the chair and kicked his ass.
"Open the damn door!"
Metidoti yelped again and bolted to the basement. Jin-cheol, shoving him ahead, turned to the others. They blinked at him.
"What if he rigged traps at the entrance? Leading with him, he'll dodge 'em himself."
"...Not why I'm curious."
Peran and Morel nodded at Aiman's words. Udim just blinked blankly.
Jin-cheol tilted his head.
"Then what's the question?"
"...What the hell were you before?"
Jin-cheol's eyes widened, then he gave a wry smile.
You wouldn't believe it if I told you, old man.
"Later, when there's time. Let's go. People to save."
He led the way. The group exchanged glances, then followed.
In the tavern basement, Metidoti pushed a cabinet, revealing a hidden passage. Dank underground air whooshed up—pssh—from the gaping maw.
Siol's underground city entrance, a black pit, awaited them.