At that moment, silence briefly engulfed the scene.
The gang members exchanged puzzled looks, staring at each other in mute confusion, not uttering a single word.
It was as if they were silently asking one another: Who the hell is this clown, and where did he come from?
After a quick, wordless exchange, they reached a consensus.
This guy wasn't affiliated with any gang at all.
He was just some random troublemaker who decided to show up for no good reason.
The leader of Crimson Blood exchanged a glance with his men, then abruptly halted his earlier speech and shouted loudly:
"Deal with this meddler first! We'll handle internal affairs once this outsider's sorted out! Brothers, charge!"
"Wooooaaaah!!"
His shout roused an immediate, collective response from all three gangs. Seeing their reaction, Don Quixote heaved a somewhat resigned sigh.
"Hm… Looks like nobody bothered listening to me."
But in the next instant, a dazzling grin reappeared on his face.
"Well, since that's how it is, at least there's no need to worry about the boring details!"
"Although, since this is a Fixer's battle, too dull a spectacle wouldn't be entertaining at all…"
Don Quixote raised his hand, and his blood lance appeared instantly. With a smile lingering on his lips, he faced the three hundred-odd gang members head-on.
At precisely that moment, Nearl finally spotted Don Quixote again. Seeing him already standing at the center of the enemy formation, worry quickly surged through her.
Driven by concern over Don Quixote's reckless actions, Nearl gripped her lance without hesitation and rushed into the enemy lines after him.
But honestly, Nearl couldn't be blamed for feeling anxious—anyone witnessing Don Quixote's fighting style would have been worried.
He frequently appeared to be struggling, barely holding his own against countless attackers… Seeing this, even Nearl briefly believed Don Quixote might actually lose.
But in truth, Don Quixote was simply putting on a show.
Soon enough, Nearl's concerns were proven unnecessary.
Midway through the fight, Don Quixote suddenly leaped backward, swiftly raising his blood lance into the air. In an instant, it transformed into a massive spear. Without hesitation, he jumped high, flinging the spear downwards—aiming directly at the center of the three gangs!
His display of strength was nothing like the performance he'd just put on.
Under that single strike, nearly all three gangs collapsed in an instant. Nearl stared blankly at the sprawled, groaning figures around her before raising her gaze toward Don Quixote, who returned triumphantly. She couldn't help but ask:
"You… Did you do that on purpose earlier?"
"Huh? Oh, you mean the fighting style just now?" Don Quixote paused briefly before flashing her a brilliant smile. "Yes, naturally! I did it deliberately. If there's no struggle before victory, how could it properly reflect the hardship of battle? That wouldn't make for a good knight's tale at all!"
"…"
Nearl stayed silent, unable to find words to respond.
She was starting to think something might seriously be wrong with her partner.
So… he did all that just because he thought it'd be fun?
"Never mind… As long as you're happy."
In the end, Nearl sighed deeply, resignation coloring her voice.
"Give me a moment; I'll quickly wrap up the rest," Don Quixote said cheerfully.
The subsequent scenes were extremely brutal—Nearl turned her head away, deciding not to watch.
"Well… According to taboo regulations, gangs that violate taboos aren't allowed to stay together… Could you please disband?"
"Hah, dream o—"
The man hadn't finished speaking when Don Quixote's spear suddenly pressed against his throat. He swallowed nervously and nodded furiously.
This was the leader of the Crimson Blood gang.
"I'll disband! I'll disband! Please don't kill me!"
Don Quixote stood up slowly, sighed softly, then swiftly ended the man's life, turning his attention toward the remaining gang members.
"This guy was already marked on the taboo list…"
"Don't worry. He's not alone. Everyone who's on the list shares the same fate."
Thus began a ruthless slaughter. Not a single offender escaped. Anyone whose hands had been stained with multiple innocent lives was swiftly executed or turned into a blood bag. In such a ruthless manner, all three gangs were forcibly disbanded.
As for sympathy? Those who casually murdered innocent civilians hardly deserved it.
Ultimately, only those not named on the taboo list—the few lucky souls among the gangs—remained alive.
"All right, now we just need to tidy things up, and the job's basically done…" Don Quixote clapped his hands together, releasing a long breath.
But at that moment, a voice shouted from nearby:
"Wait!"
Both turned simultaneously, exchanging puzzled looks before glancing behind them. Texas was approaching quickly. Don Quixote immediately noticed the familiar white emblem pinned prominently on her clothing.
A brief silence followed before Don Quixote chuckled softly, turning to Nearl with a grin:
"Looks like there's someone specially assigned for cleanup duty… Let's go, Nearl."
He waved casually toward Texas and walked away, leaving Texas breathing a quiet sigh of relief.
She lifted her head to stare at the scattered remnants of the gangs, murmuring to herself quietly:
"Now… it's finally my turn to complete my part of the job, huh…?"
With a weary sigh, she rubbed her temples, mentally preparing herself.
...
The establishment of The Thumb went remarkably smoothly.
With the credibility earned through her brief chat with Don Quixote, along with her own formidable personal strength, Texas effortlessly absorbed the scattered remnants of the three gangs, immediately launching a suppression campaign against surrounding groups.
Suppress, integrate, then expand outward… The Thumb rapidly snowballed, its growth explosive yet disciplined, strictly abiding by the bottom line set by The City's taboos.
Of course, only Texas knew precisely how much of this swift growth was secretly aided by The City's leader and The Hana Association.
As for Obsidian, he remained quietly in his small cabin, gazing thoughtfully at The [Well] before him.
The establishment of The Thumb was considered a replication event within The City—thus granting Obsidian a sizable reward in [Lunacy].
This time, he received a hefty 3,000 [Lunacy], which, combined with what he'd previously accumulated, now allowed Obsidian a total of forty gacha pulls.
"In other words…" Obsidian muttered softly, looking intently at The [Well].
"It's gacha time again."