All of them headed back to the Black Market, to their villa. As they walked, Silas and Meluis asked Lucas many questions, trying to comfort him, but he didn't utter a single word. A coldness had replaced the warmth in his eyes. Silas felt sorry for Lucas, knowing he had to witness such horror at such a young age. Silas had hoped the boy would cry, ask for help, or seek comfort, but Lucas was just walking silently, blood on his clothes and throat, deep in thought.

When they were almost back at the Black Market, Lucas suddenly stopped walking, staring down at the ground. Concerned, Silas asked gently, "What's wrong, Lucas? Are you alright?"

Lucas murmured something under his breath, too quiet for Silas to hear. He repeated it, a little louder this time, "I... I want those two mercenaries... alive."

AI Art: AI Artwork by @Stag | PixAI [https://images-ng.pixai.art/images/orig/09bc0832-92a2-4080-9482-1a6e38fe14a9]

Silas reassured him, "Yes, Lucas, we'll find them. But first, let's go back and get you cleaned up."

Lucas then looked dead into Silas's eyes, his voice cold and emotionless, "I want them to suffer."

Silas could see someone different in Lucas's eyes—the boy's kindness was gone. Silas knew how deep the scar on Lucas's heart had become. Placing a comforting hand on Lucas's shoulder, Silas said, "I know you're angry. I promise, you'll get what you want today."

Lucas just nodded, showing no emotion. Silas turned to Meluis, "You and Lucas head back to the villa. I'll return in a few hours."

Meluis raised an eyebrow, "Are you planning something crazy?"

Silas smirked, "Unlike you, I've got my head on my shoulders. You go on."

With that, Meluis and Lucas left with Marona's guards.

Later, Silas arrived at Marona's house, explaining the situation to her. Marona looked at him intently before scoffing, "You and that boy are stupid. You want me to find two mercenaries just because they killed some innkeeper's daughter?"

"I didn't think you were this dumb, senior," she added.

Silas responded calmly, "Don't forget they tried to kill us also, The boy, Marona, he's lost his kindness and his trust in humanity."

Marona nodded, "Yes I know also, it's good. Now he'll learn how low people can stoop just to get back at you."

Silas pressed her, "For old times' sake, just find those damn mercenaries."

Marona sighed, then said, "I'm already on it. Those two are in the outer slum area. I've got my spies, but it's complicated. The outer slum is managed by the Beggar King. I'll have to strike a deal with him."

Silas leaned in, "I don't think he'll be a problem for you, right?"

Marona shrugged, "No, but he's a crafty, petty, and weak man. Senior, I value what you did for me, but consider all debts paid from now on—no more favours."

Silas nodded, appreciating her honesty, "I understand. I'm grateful for your help, Marona."

Marona stood up, a glint in her eyes. "Looks like I'll have to get my hands dirty. It's been a long time. Meet me at my place tonight. You'll have your mercenaries."

medieval capital slums - AI Generated Artwork - NightCafe Creator [https://images.nightcafe.studio/jobs/xqivuyPHmLh8CZy2MfM3/creative-upscale-ijumr.jpg?tr=w-1600,c-at_max]

In the outer slum area, an old man with a kind face sat on a chair made of bones. His gentle appearance clashed violently with his grim surroundings. He was talking to a boy of about nine years old. The old man's voice was soft as he asked, "Hey, little Manny, why do you have so few coins today?"

Manny trembled as he replied, "The people in the middle town... they don't give much."

The beggar king's voice remained gentle, but his eyes gleamed with malice. "Perhaps, Manny, they don't pity you enough with just one broken leg. What if both legs were broken? Surely, that would double your earnings," he said, letting out a maniacal laugh. Then, turning to his henchman, Juno, he said, "Break this boy's other leg and send him to a richer district tomorrow. With real pain, his acting will be more... convincing."

Tears streamed down Manny's face as his small body shook with fear. He tried to speak, but no words came out. Juno, a large man with rough hands, grabbed the boy and dragged him to the back. The sound of crying and bones breaking soon followed, muffled by the laughter of the beggar king.

Just then, a well-dressed woman, slightly older but with a commanding presence, appeared in the rundown courtyard. Her attire stood out among the filth, and the beggar children stared in awe, having never seen someone so graceful. A group of guards followed her, moving with purpose. She approached the beggar king directly, ignoring the men armed with knives who flanked him.

"You must be the beggar king," she said with an air of indifference.

The old man was taken aback by her boldness. "So they say," he replied cautiously. "Who are you, and what do you want?"

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

Feigning surprise, the woman smiled slightly. "The beggar king doesn't know who I am? I suppose I'm not as famous in Almera as I thought." Her voice dripped with sarcasm.

The beggar king's eyes widened as he took in her attire more carefully. The emblem on her chest—a mark of an intermediate apprentice from Felmora—told him everything. "You must be the great potion master of Almera. I never imagined someone of your status would visit this humble beggar's home," he said, now with a mix of respect and fear.

evil old man" | Gallery | Stablecog [https://img.stablecog.com/insecure/256w/aHR0cHM6Ly9iLnN0YWJsZWNvZy5jb20vNjA4NTE4ZDktZTBiYy00M2I4LWIxYWQtZDFiOTI4NDU0NTc0LmpwZWc.webp]

"Enough with the bootlicking," she said, her voice sharp. "I'm here on business. The stench of this place is unbearable, and I don't have time for games. I want the location of two mercenaries—one bald with a clean shave, the other a fat pug-face."

The beggar king feigned ignorance, his voice still soft. "I'm just a humble beggar, madam. I don't know anything about mercenaries."

Marona's patience was wearing thin. "You're a sick man, so let's cut the act. What do you want? State your price and let's get this over with."

The beggar king's smile returned, but it was sly now. "I have some... children. They're no longer fit for begging, you see. Accidents, and now they're crippled." He gestured vaguely to the children huddled in the corners. "I want a better life for them. Perhaps you could take them off my hands. A mere 10 silver per child."

Silence stretched between them. Marona's face darkened with anger. "You're out of your mind. I could kill you and find the mercenaries myself. It may take longer, but it would save me from this filth."

The beggar king's confidence wavered. His voice trembled slightly as he backpedalled, "Apologies, great mage. I was only jesting. You can have them for 5 silver each. Please, don't make me go any lower."

Marona weighed her options. The moral dilemma was apparent, even to her. She would have preferred not to deal with these slum children, but the price was a bargain compared to the slave markets, where war prisoners with broken limbs could cost up to 20 silver each. Also it will be a good experiment to check some potions on younger kids. If anything happen to this kids after drinking potion it's on you Lucus because you want your mercenaries. Despite the discomfort in her chest, she accepted the deal with a nod. "Fine. I'll take them. Now, tell me where the mercenaries are, or my patience will run out."

The beggar king's face softened in relief. He signalled to his spy network of children. Within moments, they handed over the location of the two mercenaries.

In a dimly lit, grimy inn, Nutface and Pugface were celebrating their twisted victory. The air was thick with the smell of cheap ale and the sounds of raucous laughter. Pugface grinned, raising his cup. "You did great, boss! That kid must be crying and dying with guilt by now."

Nutface smirked, though his eyes darkened as he glanced at the stump where his right hand had once been. "Yeah, he should be. But this… this is just the start. I'm not satisfied yet." He clenched his left fist. "There are still things that need to be settled."

Suddenly, the door creaked open, and a graceful woman stepped inside, her presence commanding the attention of everyone in the room. She was dressed too elegantly for a place like this, a stark contrast to the filth and rough company. Her voice was calm but edged with menace as she spoke. "Ah, here you are. I've been looking for you everywhere. It's almost evening."

Nutface was caught off guard but quickly recovered, his arrogance bubbling up. "So, you've heard about the fat meat I am packing?" he sneered, and the thugs around him burst into laughter.

From the back of the inn, one of the thugs shouted, "We're not so bad in bed either, sweetheart!"

The woman's smile vanished in an instant. With a flick of her wrist, she conjured a Level 2 Air Slice spell, and before anyone could react, razor-sharp gusts of wind slashed through the air, cutting down everyone in the room except for Nutface and Pugface. Blood splattered the walls, and silence fell as the inn turned into a slaughterhouse.

Witch with a glowing spell in her hand generative ai | Premium AI-generated image [https://img.freepik.com/premium-photo/witch-with-glowing-spell-her-hand-generative-ai_927978-51710.jpg]

Fear and shock flooded Nutface and Pugface's eyes. The once smug expressions were replaced by sheer terror.

"You were saying something?" Marona asked, her voice cold and unforgiving.

Panicking, Nutface and Pugface ignited their red aura, a desperate attempt to escape. But before they could move, the air around them thickened, trapping them in place like invisible chains. Moments later, Marona's guards entered the inn, their faces grim as they seized the two mercenaries.

"Please, don't kill us!" Pugface pleaded, his voice trembling.

Nutface, his earlier bravado shattered, begged as well. "We'll do anything! Just let us live!"

Marona chuckled, her laughter as cold as the magic that had killed the rest of the room. "If I were you," she said, her eyes gleaming with cruelty, "I'd be begging for a quicker death. Mercy? You fools… there will be none."

It was late evening when Lucas, Silas, and Meluis arrived at Marona's estate. As they stepped inside, Marona met them at the entrance, her face twisted in mild disgust. "In the basement," she said to Silas, her voice sharp with impatience. "I've completed the task. For your sake, I've endured more filth than I care to for a lifetime."

Silas nodded in acknowledgment, his gratitude silent but understood. He could sense the storm brewing behind Lucas's silence.

As they descended into the basement, a dimly lit and cold space, Lucas's eyes locked on the two men who were shackled to the wall, their necks bound with heavy slave collars. Fear and confusion danced in their eyes, but they were powerless, their heads hanging low. Marona stepped forward, her tone matter-of-fact. "With those collars, they won't attack anyone or disobey orders."

Silas glanced at Lucas. Even in the gloom, he could see the fury burning in the boy's eyes. It was no longer the innocent anger of a child, but something darker, more dangerous. Silas turned to Marona. "I trust you haven't suppressed their power?"

Marona hesitated, sensing the change in Lucas. She shook her head. "No, I haven't." An uneasy feeling gnawed at her, though she said nothing. This was no longer just a task—it was vengeance.

Lucas finally spoke, his voice quiet but deadly. "I want two healing potions. I'll pay later, Lady Marona. And leave me with them… for the night."

Silas's instinct was to intervene, to stop whatever was about to unfold, but he held himself back. There were demons within Lucas that he needed to fight, and tonight was the night. This was not a boy seeking comfort or help—this was a boy on the edge of a precipice, ready to plunge into darkness.

Marona, her eyes narrowing slightly, glanced at Silas for confirmation. Silas gave a slight nod. He knew there was no stopping Lucas now.

With that, Marona left them, her footsteps echoing as she ascended the stairs. Silence filled the basement, save for the labored breathing of the two mercenaries, now at the mercy of the boy they had wronged.

As the door shut behind her, Lucas stepped closer, his face blank but his eyes seething with cold fury. Silas watched from the shadows, his heart heavy. Tonight, Lucas's vengeance would be coated in blood.