The Whistle (2)
He glanced at the cart. Inside lay the battle-wrecked body of the gatekeeper. It looked just like scrap metal, unlikely to fetch much of a price.
"Useless whistle."
Denis's pent-up anger and stress zeroed in on the whistle. He raised his hand high, ready to hurl it to the ground.
Clack!
Someone grabbed Denis's wrist. Gray hair, black cloak, badge shaped like shattered glass. It was an orc male in familiar garb. His milder features suggested half-orc rather than full-blooded.
"That whistle. Mind if I take a look?"
"Uh..."
Denis's mind seemed to freeze at the orc's sudden appearance.
Allen tilted his head slightly to peer at the appraisal office. The blinds in the elf appraiser's room were drawing shut.
Through the white blinds, a shadow flickered. The slim silhouette confirmed it was the elf appraiser.
Allen kept his eyes on the window until the appraiser parted the blinds just a crack—and their gazes locked.
Realizing he'd been caught, the appraiser made no move to hide, pulling the blinds fully open to openly survey the scene below.
'Did the appraiser call in an agent? Why?'
Circumstantially, it had to be the appraiser. The orc agent had even intervened just as Denis went to toss the whistle.
Allen broke off the pointless staring contest with the appraiser and turned to the agent. The orc, dressed identically to Sion, didn't look young at first glance.
Denis winced at the pain in his gripped wrist and glared at the orc.
"I know who you are, but why butt in like this?"
"Before that, care to give me a moment to sort the situation?"
The orc's question was more notification than request. No sooner had he spoken than he looked up, craning his neck this way and that.
"There it is."
The orc's gaze fixed on a spot between buildings, where pipes tangled in a complex web. His target was a sparrow-shaped golem perched there.
As the orc stared down the sparrow, his eyes glowed blue. After about thirty seconds, the two sparrows that had been surveilling Allen and Denis fluttered off.
Judging by their direction, they were headed for the police station beside the labyrinth entrance. In that brief span, the orc had wrapped up a conversation with the cops.
Denis looked overwhelmed by the display. It wasn't surprising—he'd just witnessed a slice of Maze City's power structure up close.
Allen patted his arm and pointed to the appraiser, who had now wheeled over her car to sip from it casually.
"What's that..."
Snapping back, Denis glanced between the appraiser and the orc, furrowing his brow.
"No way—you need the whistle? You two colluded and lied about your affiliation to snag it cheap?"
"If so, I'd have just bought it at a fair price. Hmm, I see fear in your eyes."
"..."
"No need to be that scared. If it was what you're thinking, we'd have handled it more discreetly. Well, we still are, in a way."
Allen's words stirred a sense of incongruity. They were right near the appraisal office—a building explorers frequented. Plenty of eyes should have been on them under normal circumstances.
'But no one's watching us.'
There were no witnesses besides the appraiser.
"Perception interference magic? Impressively potent."
The orc patted his chest pocket in response to Allen's remark, signaling a magitech device responsible for the effect.
"Then why'd the appraiser contact an agent?"
"Straight to the point. 'Agent' is a fine nickname. We didn't deceive you, though. The whistle holds no abilities left, and he merely passed on word at our request—try not to hold it against him."
With that, the orc gestured to the narrow alley between the buildings.
"Care to talk? Name's François. No need for introductions—you two are known quantities."
Hard to refuse at this point. The man was polite, and if he'd wanted a rougher approach, he wouldn't have bothered showing up like this.
Someone on Sion's level—who could deflect bullets—could have handled Allen and Denis alone anytime.
"Sure."
Allen agreed, and the mana barrier—presumed to be the perception interference—thickened further.
Following François into the narrow alley revealed the building where he'd landed the air vehicle with Sion.
They passed Breaker headquarters, cut through the park behind it, and stopped at a ten-story structure.
Before entering, Denis held François back.
"Give me a sec for a call. It's from a teammate..."
François didn't object, and Denis wasted no time diving into the conversation.
"How's Kakda? Hospitalized? Symptoms... Ah... We're talking with a Breaker staffer right now. ...Got it, hanging up. ...Let's go."
A surveillance camera extended to scrutinize François closely before sliding the door open. For its size, the building's interior was eerily empty of people.
François led Allen and Denis to a room in the corner of the first floor. It served as a reception area, with a transparent fridge and assorted teas along one wall.
"Expecting an interrogation room? Help yourself to any food you like."
"Lost my appetite..."
"One moment."
Allen grabbed a few loaves of bread. Having known poverty, he never turned down free food. These weren't synthetic either—made from natural ingredients.
No tacky ads to lure the desperate, no mystery fillers. It was a brand Allen had never seen, likely reserved for special guests.
As Allen sat, François cut straight to it.
"I want to buy that whistle."
"Why? You said it's an empty can. Any reason you need it?"
"Tricking and stealing isn't our style, so I'll explain. But first..."
François rummaged under the desk and pulled out two sheets of paper. Nondisclosure agreements.
Allen and Denis filled in the basics, leaving only the special mana-absorbing material for their thumbprints. They needed the explanation first.
François scratched his nose and began.
"You know who the Collector is, right?"
"Why bring up that name?"
"..."
Unlike Denis, Allen merely blinked. François caught the look and chuckled softly.
"From some backwater that doesn't know everything?"
"Heard he's a criminal type. Not my concern."
Allen only cared about magitech and mana excess syndrome. Type "collect" into his search bar on All Things Known, and it'd autocomplete to "collecting soul stone storage methods"—not the Collector.
"Guess I need to brief you."
Wrinkling his nose, François pressed on.
"The Collector's a black mage with a notorious rep. His power's the real deal—hired for wars between nations, or by shadowy tycoons and megacorps for dirty jobs."
"Megacorps too?"
"No hard proof they hire him, but incidents happen, and certain companies profit. That's the inference."
François's answer was vague, but his tone carried conviction.
In a world where magic could fabricate evidence, gut feelings from the superhuman elite often proved the strongest proof. Their suspicions usually hit the mark.
Denis jumped in, visibly uneasy.
"Is corruption the issue here? Sounds like we're tangled up with the Collector..."
"The whistle's just one item he seeded out there—no need for major worry. The problem? We know he's entered Maze City, but his whereabouts are a ghost. Hideout's gotta be the labyrinth."
"Then warn everyone? Block explorer access."
"Saldos Federation's a hegemon that grants Maze City autonomy because the labyrinth's a massive economic engine. Block it? Talk sense."
François's firm reply left Denis mumbling.
Separately, Allen got it. Halting labyrinth delves halted resource extraction—especially mana essence stones and soul stones. Supply chains would collapse.
Allen eyed Denis's uncomprehending expression.
His own views stemmed from Ranka and Nobak Clinic's brutal labor. Die one way or another—the outcome was the same.
After hesitating, Denis spoke up.
"But the Collector..."
"An utterly vile black mage. Extremely dangerous, insanely strong... but..."
As a fellow unmanned powerhouse, François wouldn't downplay the Collector's might out of pride.
"We can't shut down the labyrinth to check one guy. Breaker doesn't have that pull anyway."
"So city hall and the corps know."
"..."
François fell silent at Allen's words. Silent affirmation.
Meanwhile, Allen pieced it together in his head. Why was Breaker hunting the Collector's items? To replicate past incidents and trace him via magic or ritual—ultimately to assassinate or expel him from the labyrinth.
"Collecting his artifacts to pinpoint his location with magic or ritual? Final goal: elimination or flushing him out."
"Someone tip you off? You acted clueless about him earlier..."
The orc's eyes glowed blue—his artificial eyes activating.
"Allen. Estimated entry via Vega border crossing. Origin unknown. Background fishy..."
His eyes kept glowing as he scanned data, then fixed on Allen for a long moment. His stern expression eased.
"Kid's got good instincts. Illegals are a dime a dozen—most low-tier laborers are that sort. Not gonna make an issue of it."
Too many fell for the land-of-opportunity delusion. Maze City was worst; labor was cheaper than automatons.
François shrugged, and the pressure lifted.
"Any reason for the sudden change of heart?"
"My thoughts, my call?"
Allen had no idea what sparked it, but since he knew something the others didn't, curiosity lingered.
At any rate, the deal moved forward, and Denis stepped up.
"What's the offer..."
"No greed. We'll compensate fairly—just take it and keep quiet."
"My teammate's mana heart is damaged. Treatment costs a fortune... we need it."
Denis's earnest plea softened François's hard expression.
"Thought you were just money-grubbing. My bad—apologies. Speak plainly next time; nearly misunderstood. Which hospital?"
"Overflowing Love Hospital. Patient's Kakda."
The top-tier general hospital founded by Mother of All worshippers—nicknamed Love Hospital—boasted the most ethical rates in Saldos Federation despite the killer costs elsewhere.
Don't mistake "affordable" for subpar. Their innate healing arts kept it packed around the clock.
They rarely admitted anyone short of critical—purely due to space shortages.
Once hailed as divine miracles from the gods, their doctors' mana was long proven to be a unique training method altering its properties.
Still, best to call it divine power to their faces. No sense ruffling the devout staff's feathers.
"Now you look informed."
"Picked it up in searches."
Allen's mana excess syndrome hunt had naturally lodged it in memory.
François's eyes lit up as he sized up Allen, opting not to voice the call's contents.
"Kakda, lizardman. Mana heart slightly cracked. Bill's 150 million. Fine—we'll cover it."
Denis instinctively knew it was top dollar. He glanced cautiously at Allen.
Longtime party members pitched in for injuries as a given, but Allen's total time with them was under a week.
Before Denis could speak, Allen nodded.
"Do it. Hope Kakda pulls through quick."
"Thanks...... Uh