The streets churned with dust, stirred by the shuffle of plainly clad passersby, their movements silent as a forgotten reel of an old film.
The light was dim, uncertain, casting long shadows over shuttered storefronts.
The buildings flanking the road bore the scars of time, their fresh paint failing to mask the weathered bricks nostalgic hues, heavy with the weight of years.
A blond elf, hood drawn low, wove through the sparse crowd, hands tucked into pockets.
Elsewhere, a gaudily dressed nobleman reveled in wine and laughter, his arm draped around a beauty as they slipped into a lavish establishment wedged between dilapidated houses.
Not far off, an old woman rummaged through a trash bin for scraps.
A thief pried open a lamppost, pilfering its electronic innards.
On a butcher’s blood-streaked board, a vagrant lay curled under tattered bedding.
A birdman, his ears and wings dusted gray, deftly swiped a few star-coins from an unsuspecting pocket.
At the heart of this slum stood a towering ice-blue crystal, a magi-net node that doubled as the headquarters of Lord Lutos Bond’s company.
It ruled over the slum’s essentials—food, clothing, shelter—and offered a lifeline of jobs.
“You don’t know until you see it, but damn, this place is a wreck. Nobles really are bloodsucking leeches,” Simon muttered, shaking his head at the grim scene.
The southern reaches of the empire bordered the Mosod Kingdom to the left and the Kashuya Parish to the right, with the lawless No-Man’s Land below.
Many of Utasi’s inhabitants had migrated from these southern territories.
Though blessed with a prime location, the terrain was unforgiving—jagged cliffs, deep valleys, and elemental forces that carved the land with ruthless artistry.
Even the finest magic could only soften its edges, a drop in the bucket against nature’s might.
Wagner Town was one of the better-off places; the desperate preferred its slums over eking out a life in the harsh villages scattered across treacherous landscapes.
“Enough gawking. Time to find Xing Chen and Noi,” Simon said, brushing his fingers over the spatial ring on his left hand.
This trip, he’d traded his old interdimensional codpiece for one of Nest’s sleek new spatial rings—practical, stylish, and far less embarrassing.
“Move aside! Move!”
The clatter of rubber wheels echoed behind him.
Simon glanced back as the crowd parted numbly, revealing a group of laborers pushing carts laden with goods, covered tightly in black tarps, jostling over the uneven ground.
Simon stepped aside, curiosity piqued.
Why were these goods so heavily concealed, and why headed deeper into the slum?
His interest snagged, he grabbed a gray-haired birdboy who’d just pocketed someone’s coins.
“Hey, kid, any idea what they’re hauling?”
The boy bristled at being caught but lit up at the prospect of a deal.
“You’re asking the right guy!”
“They’re moving timber—straight from the woodworks in the city,” he said, grinning.
“Timber factory?” The term stirred Simon’s memory.
He recalled being thrown into a goblin camp after stumbling across documents about that very factory in a minor noble’s estate.
He knew the wood from that factory was treated with shadow spider venom, a method far from standard.
Stranger still, the shipments always looped back to the slum after reaching the city outskirts.
Who knew what shady deals the factory’s clients were hiding?
“Yup, built by that minor noble, Sato Gris. Him and Lutos, those two empire nobles, they’ve got this whole slum locked down,” the birdboy said, rattling off his intel with professional flair before rubbing his fingers expectantly.
Simon tossed him a thousand-star-coin note from his ring.
“Stop stealing, kid.”
The boy smirked.
‘As if I’d listen. No stealing, you gonna feed me?’
Still, the hefty payment softened his defiance, and he pocketed it with a grin.
“By the way, what’s your name? Got a number?” Simon asked, sensing potential in the kid’s sharp eyes.
The birdboy’s grin widened.
“Name’s Sano Frazer, just your average shape-shifting demonkin. Slum’s best information broker. Need dirt, got bullied, or want a delivery? Call me, we’ll talk about the price.”
He fished out a battered phone, a stark contrast to Simon’s gleaming gold-rimmed one.
They swapped contacts, and Simon sent a hundred-star-coin transfer, handing over an intricately patterned bag.
“Money’s sent. Take this to the town center’s church. Find a nun named Noi Vellrich and give it to her.”
With intel on the noble in hand, Simon planned to stir up trouble back in the city.
First, he’d consult Xing Chen, but Noi’s share of the Mosod Kingdom’s souvenirs would go to her now.
Xing Chen’s, he’d deliver himself.
Elves repaid kindness with fervor, especially to those who’d saved their lives.
“Big spender! Deal’s on!” Sano said, accepting the job.
The laborers’ carts dwindled into the distance, and the street sank back into its eerie quiet.
Simon dusted off his robe, ready to head back to the city, when he spotted a figure in noble attire trailing the convoy—none other than Sato Gris.
“Well, damn, talk about timing!”
Fury flared.
Simon didn’t pause to wonder why Gris was here in person.
He stormed over, seizing the noble’s shoulder.
“Hey, Sato Gris! What’s the deal with framing me and locking me in that goblin camp? I couldn’t even find you last time!”
Caught off guard, Gris jumped, his face paling as he recognized Simon.
“Holy—Simon? You’re supposed to be dead! I had that lord deal with you personally, sent to the goblin camp to be melted into venom. Are you… a ghost here for revenge?!”
Simon’s eyes blazed.
If not for his language scroll and a tamed goblin, he’d have been spider food, churned into venom as Gris intended.
“Ghost? I’m alive, you bastard! Who’s this ‘lord’ you’re talking about? What are you scheming?”
Gris didn’t answer.
Confirming Simon’s very real presence, he flicked a finger behind his back.
The laborers closed in, surrounding Simon.
“Hey! What’s this? I’m an elf! Lay a hand on me, and I’m reporting you to the teahouse!”
Gris sneered.
“Wake up. Wagner Town’s tea house was trashed by bandits. Get him!”
At his command, Simon was beaten, knocked out, and hoisted onto a cart in one swift, brutal motion.
The slum’s residents watched the scene unfold with dull indifference before returning to their routines.
Abductions were nothing new; a handsome blond elf being carted off wasn’t shocking.
But Sano, clutching the bag Simon had entrusted him, felt a spark of unease.
Glancing at Simon’s unconscious form on the cart, he made up his mind and broke into a run toward the city.
He had to find Noi Velrich, the nun, and tell her everything he’d witnessed.