“Gentlemen of this gang, whose name I care not about,” said the bartender, “do you know who I am?”

“You’re…Triple-D’s master?” the burly man, who was clearly the leader, asked. Dia couldn’t help but note that the fear in his eyes was far more intense than when Farah revealed herself. She already knew that the bartender wasn’t a simple person — anyone with a modicum of instinct could tell that — but just what made this burly man so fearful?

“The one and only,” the bartender replied. “And we’re here to offer anyone who is willing the biggest opportunity of their lives. Do you guys want to listen?”

A bitter smile flashed across the gang leader, before he prostrated to the bartender. “There’s no need to explain your plans, master. Me and the boys will listen to you.”

“Boss?!”

“Not me anymore,” said the gang leader. “That’s him, or whoever he’s supporting.”

“Interesting,” said the bartender. “What’s your name, mister?”

“I’m Lou.”

“Lou, eh?” The bartender laughed. “Fear not. Our little group is headed by the largest force to sweep Licencia’s underworld in the last five centuries. With us are four mana-users, each of them with their own specialties and abilities.”

“Four?”

“I trust that you’ve already made your acquaintance with Miss Farah here,” the bartender replied, prompting Farah to wave her greatsword around by way of greeting.

The others flinched as the bartender swept a glance at Dia, who got the message immediately. Blue light wreathed around her, an action mirrored by Risti and Lily a moment later, and for a moment, the silent warehouse was lit up by mana alone.

“That’s the basis of our confidence,” said the bartender, before gesturing to the crowd standing behind him. “And these are our initial members.”

“We’ll join,” said Lou.

“Good decision,” said Farah. “Follow us. We’ll sweep this place out and recreate Licencia’s underworld. I hope you people are prepared.”

Dia covered her mouth to hide a giggle. The countess was — if her expression was of any indication — having the fun of her life. There was probably some charm in cowing everyone into submission, especially one as thorough as this, but Dia could also sense that Farah was also equally serious about recreating Licencia’s underworld.

If Count Nightfall ever found out who the ringleaders behind this hostile takeover of Licencia’s underworld was, Dia wanted to be nearby to see the look on his face. This could be brought up to Duke Istrel as a hostile act — they were essentially attempting subversion in a fellow noble’s territory.

Dia had a nagging feeling that a reason why Farah had agreed to this was because she was also eyeing the opportunity to profit at Count Nightfall’s expense. The count was in no position to take care of any waves happening in insignificant places like the city’s underworld, not with the mana-users flocking towards his city.

It would not be a problem for her, since she had been…disinherited by her father. The only people who would face the greatest pressure if things were ever revealed would be Farah and Lily. She didn’t quite know what the former wanted to do, but Dia knew that Lily didn’t care for her position as the heiress of Julan.

Now that I think about it, everyone doesn’t really have much to lose in such acts of subterfuge. Whoever killed Ruler Umbra is probably making far bigger waves in a greater political arena, though.

She dispersed her thoughts as the group of around eighty people stopped in front of yet another warehouse. This time, however, five armed men had stepped out to block their way…

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

“What’s the meaning of this, Boss Lou?” one of the guards asked. “Are you declaring war on us?”

“Not my call, bub,” Lou replied. “It’s just ‘Lou’ from now on. The Iron Bars have been eaten by…by…”

He turned to look at the bartender. “What’s the name of our gang?”

Everyone froze for a moment, before Claud abruptly raised his voice. “The Deadly Dangers. Triple-D, yeah?”

“I’m quite sure the first word starts with ‘T’, though,” said someone in the crowd.

“I’m just improvising,” Claud replied loudly, “so get off my back. We’ll think of something else once we sweep all the gangs.”

He turned back to the five men blocking their way. “You wanna throw down with us? Or you want to let the bosses speak instead?”

The five men looked at each other, and then one ran off into the warehouse. Ducking into a side door, he soon reappeared, a rough-looking lady in his wake.

“Boss.”

“Mm. Stand aside, Lein, the rest of you.” Eyes narrowed, she walked up to the bartender. “What’s the meaning of this, master? Are you declaring war?”

“In a sense, yes, Miss Julianne.” The bartender smirked. “But before we start hacking away at each other, you might just want to see our line-up. Ladies?”

Dia channelled her mana once more, and four different sources of blue light appeared. In the orange light of the setting sun, the others looked particularly surreal, like mysterious beings that had descended upon Grandis.

The moment was broken by Julianne, who tossed a dagger on the ground. “Don’t kill my people, and I’ll listen to your arrangements.”

“Good enough. Come,” said the bartender. “Let’s finish up the rest of the gangs.”

“Be careful, master. The Arch Lions have a mana-user as their backing too,” said Julianne. “They’ve been absorbing the smaller gangs over the past two days. The city guard doesn’t want to tangle with them either.”

“I know,” said the bartender. “A one-folder. A nice set-up; he would have been the boss if not for a few Moon-grown heroes of justice.”

“Is he talking about us?” Lily asked.

“Who else would he be talking about?” Farah replied. “Come on, keep that fierce look up. We’re going to take down everyone and extract as much advantages as we can.”

Claud chuckled. “We’ll handle it, Miss Julianne. No worries.”

Farah took the lead once more.

It was in such a fashion that Dia and the others stormed through the street full of warehouses. In fact, calling them warehouses were actually a misnomer; most of these facilities that purportedly housed excess trade goods actually housed every single minor power in Licencia’s underworld. This was not so much as a street of warehouses, but rather a street of ‘gang-houses’.

Percuti, the red moon of strife, was shining down on the street by the time everyone stopped at the headquarters of the Arch Lions. Dia could remember Claud talking about how they were the largest gang in Licencia, and the state of their headquarters reflected that fully.

Instead of the usual rundown warehouse, a small mansion served as the base of operations for the Arch Lions. It wasn’t anything impressive by any means, but the caution she could sense off Claud and the bartender didn’t seem to concur with her assessment of things.

“What’s wrong?” Risti asked.

“This mansion is a rather new development,” said Claud. “But there are building codes for the streets of Licencia. To circumvent them requires some…connections with the city administration.”

“Which means that it is possible for this less-than-polite takeover to come to the attention of Count Nightfall,” the bartender continued.

“But the good count’s attention seems to be focused elsewhere, isn’t it?” Claud asked.

“Yes.” The bartender eyed the group of twenty angry-looking men at the entrance of the mansion. “Ladies, are you up for some good old-fashioned fighting?”

“Hmph. And I thought it was going to be peaceful all the way,” said Farah. “Master, should I aim to kill? Or to disable?”

“To disable,” the bartender replied. “There is value in prisoners and hostages, even if they’re normal people. Beat them down, and then slowly force out everyone inside. Be careful not to fall for sneak attacks and traps; there are many ways mana-users can be killed.”

“Got it, master. Fortunately, there’s a blunt edge on this thing, or else…” Farah smirked and hefted her sword. “Let’s begin, then.”

The ground shook slightly, and a huge wave of air swept outwards. Farah had closed the distance at a speed that only Dia — and probably the other mana-users present — could have seen, before sweeping out with the flat part of her sword.

She’s quite the softy, isn’t she?

Silence fell in the wake of Farah’s brutality, even from those behind the bartender, and she could very well guess why. It was a stark reminder that Farah — and the other mana-users — could crush vanillas with ease.

“What’s going on here?”

A sharp voice broke the silence, and three robed fellows floated down from the upper floors of the mansion. Blue shapes floated around them

“Be careful,” said Claud. “They’re mages. They’re really pesky. I don’t like them very much.”

“What did they do to you?” Farah asked. “Alright, let me handle this. Sit back and let me beat them up.”

“I’m afraid I can’t have that,” another voice cut in. Its owner, wreathed in blue light, jumped out from the upper floors of the mansion to join the mages. “But it seems that you want a fight, eh?”

Dia rubbed her neck and grinned. “Farah, you beat up the small fry. I haven’t had a good exercise for some time.”