Chapter 354
Chapter 354. Invasive Species
(This is bad… I never thought that guy would get killed…!)
Gordon, the Night Elf spy, was alone and panicking in a dark room.
A contact posing as a traveler was killed by the hero—he caught that intel while on the job. Gordon made a living as a dealer in an underground gambling den controlled by a mafia.
Honestly, he was enjoying the thrilling life of illegal gambling more than his spy work, but knowing that a comrade was brutally murdered made him feel an overwhelming sense of danger.
(What should I do!? …No, wait, calm down, calm down)
It’s not yet time to panic—Gordon reminded himself as he lit a pipe and exhaled purple smoke.
This city is located on an island shaped like a peninsula. Since it’s surrounded by shallow waters, it’s entirely possible to escape via land routes or small boats without needing to take a passenger ship. However… escaping in the dead of night, especially right after the existence of the Night Elves has been exposed, would be foolish. It would be like flaunting his own guilt.
The city’s guard must be on high alert now. No matter how you look at it, making a break for it right now isn’t wise.
(Anyway, the Holy Church in this city is severely understaffed… they don’t have the luxury to conduct holy inspections on all the residents.)
Moreover, the few active members of the Holy Church have been focused on defeating aquatic monsters that have been causing great damage to sailors lately, and they’re away from the city. The situation wasn’t necessarily the worst for Gordon.
(The biggest concern is that the scent of the new sunscreen has been detected by the hunting dogs.)
He still had some older stuff left—after all, he hadn’t had much opportunity to use it during his nocturnal lifestyle—and he could just avoid being seen during the day.
(For now, I must lay low.)
Exhaling smoke, Gordon nodded with conviction. The tobacco he started smoking to mask the sunscreen smell had since become familiar.
(As long as I stay hidden in the gambling den, I’ll be fine…)
The gambling den he infiltrated was, as mentioned earlier, under the sway of the mafia.
This mafia was conveniently suitable for the Night Elves, entwined with the local lord while engaging in illegal businesses, settling into a necessary evil within the city’s dark underbelly.
By the way, this is commonplace in the Nosh-Ugo Alliance, where every city has its own mafia or pirates, poking into other city-states and making profit through illegal businesses.
Of course, conflicts often lead to casualties, so as a devoted believer, they donate a large sum to the Holy Church… Given the Holy Church’s current financial struggles, they wouldn’t easily invade the mafia-controlled gambling den unless there was conclusive evidence.
Even if the Holy Church tried to storm the gambling den, the bodyguards would buy time at the entrance while any fleeing folks could make their escape. It was a benefit of working in a place where many had past injuries… But if the suspicion fell on the Night Elves, that might be a different story.
However, for that to happen, the Holy Church would need to pinpoint Gordon’s identity.
(There’s no “conclusive evidence.” Not even any grounds!)
Gordon knew how his comrade was killed.
Integrating the stories he heard from customers and colleagues, it seemed that, in the midst of spreading slander about the alliance, he was noticed by the hero at a backwater tavern, burned with holy magic, exposed, and stabbed through the heart before he could resist—instant death.
(So, my information hasn’t leaked…!)
If he were captured alive by the Holy Church, even Gordon wouldn’t be so calm.
But the contact died almost instantly. There was no time for him to spill anything about Gordon or the other spies…!!
(For now, I should be okay. The next 72 hours will be crucial.)
Even if the Holy Church is short-handed, there are Beastmen in the guard, and ordinary Beastmen residents might volunteer to sniff out spies based on the sunscreen smell.
There are, in fact, canine Beastmen in the gambling den, meaning if they caught wind of the sunscreen smell, it could become troublesome. He had an unopened bottle hidden under the floor, but he wasn’t sure if such a scent could fool a Beastman’s nose, and disposing of it now would also be tricky.
(The place I threw it away will still hold my scent…)
That said, the guards’ Beastmen and the mafia’s Beastmen are known for their animosity, so it won’t likely lead to a shared scent right away… If this were the front line, they would be cooperating against the shady types without hesitation, but fortunately, they were in a cushy backline.
(Nevertheless, it’s only a matter of time. Psychologically, after 72 hours, if no change occurs, humans will inevitably let their guard down. I should find a way to escape to another city within that window…)
As he pondered this, Gordon found himself toying with a coin used for gambling.
(I really liked it here…)
It had been nearly ten years since Gordon settled in the gambling den. It had practically become his second home. He was well familiar with the place… In fact, he didn’t hate it at all. He quite enjoyed this place.
“…………”
In a particularly unique trait for a Night Elf, he actually liked humans too. They were short-lived, foolish, and greedy, yet their earnestness reminded him of children, and he didn’t hate them…
“Guess I have no choice then.”
After all, he was a Night Elf. Essentially an uninvited guest.
He flicked the coin. Thinking of “tails.” When he caught it on the back of his hand, it was indeed tails. It felt that way.
(…I’ll escape in three days. That will be my plan.)
Having finished his little divination, Gordon threw his legs over the side of the couch and sank back, staring at the ceiling. He exhaled smoke, playing with rings of smoke, reflecting on his past days—
Bam!
A disturbing sound echoed from the entrance of the gambling den.
Something was amiss. Noisy footsteps hurried down the hallway.
Feeling an unusual sense of unease, Gordon stepped out of his room and peeked down the hallway.
“Hey, what’s going on?”
“I don’t know! Is it a raid!?”
“The front door just got blown off!”
Despite asking his familiar thugs, they were too flustered to give a clear answer.
“T-this is bad!!”
At that moment, a thug ran toward him, panic in his eyes.
“The hero from the Holy Church came in alone!”
And the thug pointed at Gordon.
“—And he’s saying, ‘Bring out Gordon!'”
…Huh???
Stunned, Gordon dropped his pipe and coin.
†††
――A few minutes earlier.
“I’m Hero Alexander from the Holy Church.”
At the entrance of the underground gambling den near the slums, the young man stated while shooting a fierce glare at the two bodyguards blocking his way.
“Your dealer, a man named Gordon, is a Night Elf operative. I’m here to apprehend him, let me in.”
“Hold on there, hero.”
“No matter how holy the Church is, barging in uninvited is not acceptable.”
――Unfortunately, the bodyguards were dutifully loyal to their job.
There had been countless instances of this before. The guards or the Holy Church would find some reason to enter and attempt to detain their “own.”
That was how they operated: by concocting some excuse to hold them off, buy time, and allow their own to escape.
Though surprised to hear “because he’s a Night Elf,” the bodyguards interpreted it as just another accusation riding on the recent hubbub of Night Elf operatives.
After all—Gordon had been a familiar face for several years.
“Gordon, the dealer, you say? I don’t recall such a guy…”
“Just wait a moment, hero; I’ll go look for him.”
The bodyguard duo tried to keep him at bay with forced smiles—
“….I’ll say it one more time.”
Surrounded by silver flames, the hero growled.
“I’m detaining Gordon. Clear the way.”
A hand moved to the hilt of his holy sword—
“——”
The bodyguards exchanged glances. While thinking, “Why is the Church so aggressive today?” they also recognized that they couldn’t allow themselves to back down here.
If they yielded at the first show of the hero’s holy attributes and the hand on his sword, they’d be considered cowards, and it might lead to trouble for their family.
They didn’t want to confront the Holy Church, but they couldn’t just yield without a fight!
“Hey, hero,” one bodyguard said menacingly.
“This is our turf, you holy idiot!”
Before he could finish his sentence, a silver fist smashed into his face.
The bodyguard was sandwiched between the fist and the wall, knocked out cold, while his shocked partner received the same treatment from the hero’s punch.
With the nuisances eliminated, the hero grabbed the door right in front of him only to find it locked from the inside, perhaps sensing trouble.
As the silver flames swirled, intensifying—
“Hah!”
He unleashed a front kick infused with magic.
With a thunderous crash, the entire entrance exploded.
“W-what the hell are you!?”
The mafia members gathered in the foyer stared in shock.
“Where’s that dealer Gordon!? Guide me, I’m here to detain him as a Night Elf operative!”
“What in the world are you talking about!? Do you know this is the Fuhzenflame Family’s territory!?”
“I don’t care, you idiot!”
The hero shouted back ferociously at the intimidating mafia member.
“If you keep obstructing me, I’ll consider you a collaborator of the Demon Lord Army and take you down!”
“What the hell did you just say…!? Don’t get cocky just because you’re a hero! Go ahead, try it!”
The mafia member retorted almost reflexively, earning a swift reaction from the hero, drawing his holy sword.
With a dull sound, the sword struck the head of the intimidating mafia member.
However, it was not the blade but the hilt that crashed against him… Still, combined with the weight of the holy sword and the hero’s powerful arm, it was quite a force.
“Ugh…”
The tough-looking mafia member let out a short gasp and collapsed, unconscious.
“…………”
The gambling den’s hall fell silent. He hadn’t died, but…
The hero’s menacing presence, the almost lightning-fast draw, and the collapsed strongman without a sound were more than enough to send chills through the onlookers.
In the next instant, the thugs’ shouts echoed throughout the hall.
