City of Sin

Interrogation(1)

Richard’s face was colder than ever as he took out the remnant page of the Book of Holding and unfolded it. A faint yellow radiance erupted from the page, filling half the bar. Anyone caught in the light was slowed down by at least 30%.

This was a grade 5 spell, Mass Slow. Richard had adjusted the reserve spell from an offensive to supporting one, since the main goal of this visit was a transaction and not a fight.

The result matched expectations. Not only did the few large fellows slow down, the other patrons in the bar were affected as well. It was apparent that there was nobody outside of Richard’s men here who could resist grade 5 magic.

Richard himself completely ignored the machete right above his head. He had faith in Gangdor, who’d activated both Gaia’s Force and the strength rune. The brute let loose a punch on the attacker’s face, and the sound of bones cracking echoed as the man flew across the bar, knocking down a few tables in the process before landing on the floor. He twitched uncontrollably on the ground, unable to get up.

He then grabbed a bottle nearby, slamming it into Black Devil’s head. The battle was far tougher than average, but Gangdor was far stronger than an ordinary human. Black Devil swayed a little before falling, and Gangdor took the chance to step on his left arm. Pressure gathered at his boots, and bone-shattering sounds rang out once more. The shriek this time drowned out all other noises in the bar.

But nobody could care less about him right now. Olar had already drawn his dagger, infiltrating the chaotic crowd and taking out two of the burly men like an assassin. This gave him a metal rod, which he used to strike another fellow. Although the danger of this rod wasn’t as great as that of his dagger, the loud collision and the splatter of blood from the action were far more rousing. The elven bard had put his full strength into that strike, so much so that his expression was oddly twisted. This was the first time anyone had seen his dark side.

The fellow obviously wasn’t satisfied with one hit, as he proceeded to pound into his opponent until all that was left of the body was a big, gory mess.

Nonetheless, Waterflower interrupted his berserk act.

A cold “Move!” caused the bard to quiver a little, growing clear-headed as he instantly moved backwards. The girl swept past the elf at the speed of lightning, and all their opponents were frozen mid-action as if someone had cast a grade 9 Time Stop on them. Suddenly, half a dozen heads flew into the air, blood splattering down like rain.

Nobody had managed to see the young lady’s moves throughout this time, the Shepherd of Eternal Rest already pointed at another table of patrons in a split second. These people had all managed to struggle their way to stand despite the slowing spell, and most had a weapon or glass bottle in their hands. They were evidently planning to join the fight, but they hadn’t been given the chance.

Just like the last batch, their heads would be sent flying the moment Waterflower stepped forth.

“Don’t,” Richard said from afar, and Waterflower stopped in her tracks.

Richard scanned the bar. One of the knights he’d brought along had already taken out two opponents, aiming for their joints. Both had lost mobility almost immediately, and they were definitely crippled for the rest of their lives. There were still a dozen-odd patrons left in the bar, most looking like they were about to engage. However, a handful were trying to escape the bloody battle. They’d seen that the situation was unfavourable, and were probably planning to inform others and gather more manpower.

Seeing this, he ordered, “Cut off the right leg of anyone trying to flee.”

Before he could complete the sentence, Waterflower had finished a circle around the bar. The right legs of all who were planning to escape fell of their bodies the moment they took a step. They were all caught off-guard, slamming into the ground. It was only then that their brains caught up to the excruciating pain, turning them into howling beasts. The girl had already charged towards the rest of the enemies who were picking up weapons without Richard’s instructions.

Both the vision and skill of the girl were exceptional. Limbs flew out everywhere in the bar, left and right arms all holding onto weapons. The most unlucky of them all was a big man who’d held an enormous axe with both hands.

Effortlessly finishing her task, Waterflower returned to her seat and sat down in peace. The Shepherd of Eternal Rest was back in its sheath; this blade of massacre would never be stained by the blood it drew.

The girl was too fast for Richard to even stop or change things. The men in this bar were mostly around levels 7 and 8, ants in front of this teenager who had the Breath of Darkness.

Richard shook his head. To everyone’s surprise, he violently hurled the glass in his hand across the bar. The glass which could hold a litre of liquor screeched across the air, slamming into the face of the bartender who’d tried to run. The impact had broken the tough glass into countless fragments, leaving crimson fluid running down his face like a waterfall. It was impossible at this point to tell what was blood and what was liquor.

Richard then jumped over the counter, grabbing the man by his hair and towing him back. The lack of his target’s resistance shocked him— the person who’d started this bloody mess was actually an ordinary human.

The bartender shrieked in a high voice, “I’m a subordinate of the Two-Headed Dragon, Schitich! If you dare touch me, you’ll be dead before you know it! Master Schitich will catch all of you and mince you up before feeding you to his dog! The two girls will live longer, but there’ll be hundreds of men lining up to fuck you everyday!”

“What a trash-talker. It’s no wonder that you’re only a bartender.” Richard lifted the bartender and pressed him against the bar counter. He then pulled his left arm up against the bar counter and made Gangdor hold it down it.

The bartender’s shrieks intensified as he realised things weren’t as expected. He struggled for his life, repeating, “Master Schitich has the best cavalry! Let me go now and I’ll forget whatever happened today! Or else, Master Schitich will wipe your whole family out!”

Richard sat back down at the counter, laughing at the bartender’s ridiculous words, “I’d like to thank this so-called Schitich guy if he managed to find my family. Now, tell me everything you know about Red Cossack. Be detailed, and don’t you dare lie.”

The fight in the bar has died down, leaving a mountain of corpses and casualties in its wake. A river of blood flowed out, with only a few left standing. Most of them were the waitresses, and others who were smart enough to respond correctly. They’d been fast to abandon their weapons, squatting down without trying to run. That was the only reason Waterflower’s blade did not strike them.

Richard did not make any threats, but the pressure on that left hand served as enough of a deterrent. The bartender finally trembled, struggling to make his last warning, “Master Schitich will never let you off…”

“I think it’s better to worry about your own fingers first.” Richard snapped his fingers, “Olar!”