Chapter 339 - Tyrant (1)
[Find the bodyguard who succeeded in escaping from the Glory of the Dead,]
The plan Verden and Adrian Chambers took charge of.
The only clue, regrettably, is that the target is being shadowed in the dark by the Chief Councilor.
There is no compelling intel.
Unlike Haldirn or Leira, the search range isn't bounded, it's obvious this won't be easy.
But there's no need to worry.
"Even in what doesn't show on the surface, there are always people."
Not only those starving and scraping by, but the residents of the underworld, who have put down roots in the dark and eke out their lives.
Just as in the Duchy Riviant, the Kingdom of Estiria, and the Autonomous Territory of Midros, so too here in the Beldirn Republic.
As expected, Verden's hunch struck true.
Right before leaving Quorail, he heard a story about one district from a priest who had long lived in the Republic.
An unofficial city, Southern Pit.
Long ago, in a Republic where there was nowhere to live and no way to live, the poor moved south and made hamlets, and later, formed a small village.
It was shabby, but you could get two meals a day, and if you worked, you could feed your family till they were full, a modest foothold.
So, attention gathering there was inevitable.
—There's a village in the south, they say you can't become rich, but you can make a living.
People who heard such rumors took interest, and began relocating one by one.
Bandits who feared they would be subjugated someday, merchants who smelled money, citizens who wanted a new start…
A day, two days, several days, months, years, decades.
At first there were only a few, but as time piled up, the number grew too large to ignore.
From a village to a town,from a town to a broad city.
Of course the Republic's councilors wouldn't just leave it be, but that problem was solved very easily.
They skimmed off a portion of every profit the city generated, and offered up a massive tribute that far surpassed the usual tax rate.
Showy entertainments and expensive gifts were secondary.
As a result, while not officially recognized as a city, after concluding several articles, its limited existence was acknowledged.
In other words, it was no different from an autonomous city.
"Which is why, within the Republic, it's the most suitable place to gather various rumors."
Verden was certain.
Thus the destination was fixed.
The distance being considerable, if they used a carriage driven by a paladin of the Luas Church, they would be late.
Verden summoned his private coach from Subspace, and headed straight south through the lofty sky.
Adrian didn't prefer high places, but it couldn't be helped.
It wasn't the time to fuss about likes and dislikes.
Still, perhaps he'd gotten somewhat used to it, he managed to keep himself fairly comfortable.
Then Adrian asked.
"But my lord, how do you plan to move in Southern Pit?"
Normally, they would have asked around, paid a price, and bought information.
But Verden and Adrian were men with billions in bounties on their heads.
The Glory of the Dead had deliberately spread it, so it was certain Southern Pit had already heard.
"As planned, we hide our identities and look for someone who handles information…"
"No. I've changed my mind."
There's no need to hide, nor to move in secrecy.
There's no need, nor reason.
The moment he grasped Southern Pit's special nature, the course of action changed.
"It's our first time there, so even if we step out ourselves, it could take a considerable amount of time."
Therefore.
"We make the city move around us."
Not as wanted men, but as the King of the Underworld.
Verden was a "guest" Southern Pit could by no means welcome.
***
Beldirn Republic, Southern Pit's pleasure district.
Without distinction of day and night, the reek of liquor and filth vibrated in the air, and streets rife with violence and shrieks were a haven for drifters.
In the most luxurious building there, a certain guest sat.
"Hahahaha! They said this city is the filthiest mire in the Republic, but it's way better than I'd heard! Here, bring me another bottle, the pricey, the strong stuff!"
"Kyaa, so cool!"
A handsome man sat at the center of a large, curving sofa, beautiful women in his arms on either side.
With both legs up on the table, accepting drink and hors d'oeuvres from the beauties, he looked no different from a pleasure-addled, hopelessly foolish young noble.
But unlike that facade, the man's mind was sharp as a well-honed blade.
Glossy hair, white and black intermingled. Orange eyes in harmony with it.
A body tempered atop outstanding talent, the frame of a warrior.
If there was anything peculiar, it was that his desire for the opposite sex was more candid than most.
"I came to the Eastern Continent on a whim for a change of mood, and ended up trapped against my will, but here, I think I can have fun for a while. Don't you?"
"Of course! No, how about you just don't go back and stay here for good? I'll take care of you for life!"
"Me too!"
"Hearing that alone makes me happy. Should I really settle down?"
He kissed each woman on the forehead in turn.
Everyone knew these were words without permanence.
So what.
Even if it was a promise to be forgotten tomorrow, for now, it was true.
Thus, love takes many forms.
The pleasant time went on and on.
When the man tossed out a line, the women chimed back in lilting voices, smiling with genuine delight.
An intriguing topic came up then.
"Have you heard the news? The King of the Underworld has slipped into the Beldirn Republic."
"King of the Underworld? What's that?"
"Ah, since you're from the Central Continent, you wouldn't know. Simply put, he's the ruler of Roafra, the underground city of the Kingdom of Estiria. In the Eastern Continent's underworld, there's no one who doesn't know him."
With deft lips, the eloquent woman fed the man a bite.
Roafra, the Eastern Continent's greatest underworld.
The organization called Vintert that seized the Kingdom's hidden side, and the being at its apex, Grond Veil di Validus.
And the chilling, dreadful notoriety that froze the liver.
The information lined up neatly.
Serving mainly upper-class patrons who sought out the pleasure quarter, she possessed more than beauty and a smile.
"But last year, Grond died and had his throne snatched. The new king is a Mage named Asher. I hear he overturned Roafra wholesale with magic… it may be a bit exaggerated, but they call him a monster. Somehow he even coaxed the royal house into giving him an honorary peerage."
"Ha, a monster who usurped the underworld…"
The man's eyes gleamed with curiosity.
"So what business does he have here?"
"That I don't know, but it doesn't seem ordinary."
"Here!"
The other woman handed over Southern Pit's newspaper.
So slapdash was its make that it was crude to the point of laughable, but the content about the wanted notices was printed accurately.
His gaze followed the lines.
"Murder of the mayor of Kailiens, and city terrorism, among the suspects, dead or alive, bounty 4 billion Elk… wow, that list of charges is something else. Even a noble would be fit for execution."
"Of course he wouldn't be called King of the Underworld for nothing. I don't know why he left Roafra, but some say he's the culprit who killed the Chief Councilor in the Special Assembly Hall."
The very definition of villain among villains.
From the start, being called King of the Underworld, where criminals swarmed, said it all.
The man, stroking his lips, sank into deep thought, then tilted his head.
"Hm, since it's come to this, maybe I should just catch him."
"What?"
"Sure, the money's good, but more than that, how could I leave such a bad guy alone? Bounty hunting is one of my side jobs."
"But it's the King of the Underworld…"
"King, emperor, whatever, it doesn't matter. At the end of the day, he's just someone playing around in the Eastern Continent, right? He's no comparison to the Central Continent, where real powerhouses are everywhere."
He shrugged his shoulders.
"And besides, two are better than one."
His warlike eyes turned toward the corner.
There, chained and battered, was a scar-covered man.
The two women blinked.
"…That person's a wanted man too?"
"A very high-ranking person put a bounty on him. The amount's in the hundreds of millions. I secured him before my colleagues could snatch him up. But there's something I'm curious about."
The man whispered softly.
"If I were to catch the King of the Underworld, what happens then? Do I become the king? Do I get that place called Roafra too?"
"Well, Grond usurped it from his predecessor, and Asher did the same… so probably, yes? Why?"
"Oh, lots of reasons."
A throne only for the strong.
Anyone confident in their skill would at least once try to sit on it.
Moreover, who would refuse the chance to rule an underground city rivaling a metropolis, won with just a single duel?
And more than anything.
"King of the Underworld. Doesn't that sound insanely cool?"
The alias delighted him to no end.
The man's boyish vanity rippled with excitement.
***
At a glance, Southern Pit might look similar to Roafra, but in reality it was nothing alike.
First, Southern Pit only had local bosses ruling each street, not a single ruler over the whole city.
With its groups split in every direction, structured like a cell system, it was difficult to pursue anything in coordination.
And this was no extraterritorial zone.
Though allowed to run autonomously, it was still under the Beldirn Republic's watch.
If they plotted anything too harmful to the state, or amassed more force than necessary and got caught, sanctions would fall immediately.
A freedom with limits.
This city was, in the end, nothing but a cash source for the councilors.
"Which is why the facilities are poor."
Verden and Adrian walked down the middle of the street upon arriving in Southern Pit, surveying their surroundings.
Dilapidated wooden buildings.
Stone walls cracked in small places.
The stench of the streets, unpleasant and heavy, and people in shabby, many-layered clothes squatting in every alley.
The scenery between paupers and citizens.
Adrian, heightening his aura sense, muttered in a low voice.
"Eyes are starting to gather."
Adrian aside, Verden was currently wearing [Ainber].
The Demon King's Robe's splendor drew attention no matter where he went.
An irresistible bait.
"A nobleman from another country?"
"Seems like it. I've never seen such a young man among the councilors."
"But his appearance, I feel like I've seen it somewhere before?"
The residents murmured.
Even holding a newspaper with the wanted notices, they were hesitant, uncertain.
No one expected such a high-bounty fugitive to walk around so brazenly.
"Huh? Wait, that face…?"
"Holy shit. Wh-what the hell is he doing here…!!"
Those who recognized them, especially Verden, bolted off in a rush.
"An ambush, or a conversation?"
Whatever it was didn't matter, as long as it was someone positioned suitably.
He moved on, wondering what reaction would come first.
About three minutes later, it arrived.
"Huff, huff… e-excuse me."
A man, with a scar nicking the edge of his left ear, ran up and stopped.
Catching his breath with difficulty, he spoke very carefully.
"Our master, Lord Gerbon, respectfully invites the two of you. If it pleases you, could you spare him some time?"
The bait had struck immediately.
***
"Thank you very much for coming. My place is shabby and my hospitality poor, but it's my best, so I hope you'll overlook it."
A man with a scar running diagonally across his brow, Gerbon.
He offered Verden and Adrian warm tea and seats, then sat across from them.
Verden drank without hesitation.
Whether poison would even work was doubtful, and thanks to [Ainber]'s effect, he was wholly immune to toxins.
A subtle floral fragrance spread.
Thick at first, but finishing clean.
"Not bad."
"That's a relief───"
"So."
Blue eyes fixed on Gerbon.
From expression and body reaction, he read emotion.
Fear, and tension.
The one who had invited the strangers was trembling.
"What business do you have with me?"
Under the indescribable pressure, Gerbon swallowed hard.
"Asher… I know you. Not just from rumors. On the day Grond died… I too was there. By coincidence."
He continued with difficulty.
"And I, I saw it with my own eyes. Half of Roafra collapsing."
The ground heaving as if it bore will, the subterranean city shuddering, swallowing, and piercing the vicious criminals who thrived there.
Screams echoed amid the thunderous roar.
And though far away, he saw clearly.
The massive iceberg crushing Grond, and with it, the vast underworld ruled by Vintert being toppled by a single man.
That was a memory he could never forget.
"…Though I'm older now, in my youth I'd reached near the level of top mercenaries, so I'm still healthy. I rule six streets of Southern Pit, and with the profits I earn, I hold considerable influence here."
But.
"I dislike power struggles. Too much to lose, and I don't want to give up the comfortable life I have now… so I ask you sincerely to answer me."
Gerbon slowly raised his head to face Verden and Adrian.
Then laid a newspaper on the table.
Open exactly to the page with the wanted notices.
"King of the Underworld, what business brings you here?"
His pupils trembled finely.
As if facing a natural disaster, he was stricken with fear.
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