Chapter 196

Chapter 197. The Lazy Genius (1)

As soon as Contact, a member of the Red Eye Gang, locked eyes with Keter, he unleashed his ultimate move.

Flash!

A “third eye” appeared on his forehead.

The vitality and bloodlust emanating from the pupil clearly showed that it was neither a fake nor a magically created eye.

Moreover, it wasn’t an ordinary eye either.

Maran, the Eye Collector. True to his nickname, he had collected numerous “eyes” and “implanted” them into his capable subordinates.

The eye implanted on Contact’s forehead belonged to an illusionist. Just by making eye contact, it could trap the opponent in an illusion.

The subordinates flanking him had also awakened their third eyes. However, unlike Contact’s, theirs weren’t special. They merely provided a wider field of vision by adding an extra eye.

But even that alone significantly boosted their combat power. After all, having more than two eyes allowed them to see more.

Unfortunately, for Keter, who had fought Maran dozens of times, it was all too predictable.

“Too lazy to even shoot an arrow.”

Thud!

Keter stomped the ground and shouted.

“Popo, it’s feeding time.”

Keter didn’t even need to step forward. A single word was enough.

Sluuuurp!

From the smooth gaps of the tower, hundreds of green, slimy tentacles stretched out and engulfed Contact and the Red Eye Gang.

Keter’s office wasn’t just built high to overlook the surroundings. It was both an office and a “home.” A home for the colossal slime, Popo.

“We didn’t have this intel…!”

The Red Eye Gang had only enough time to utter a single, unfair sentence.

Dodging? Impossible. They were “climbing” a vertical tower. In other words, they were suspended in mid-air when the tentacles attacked. Not just one or two, but hundreds of them.

The tentacles were not only fast but also sticky, clinging to anything they brushed against.

Sssssss!

“Gaaaaah!”

The Red Eye Gang wrapped themselves in aura to protect their bodies, but Popo’s acidic fluid could even dissolve “aura.” Struggling and resisting was like flailing in quicksand—it only dragged them in faster.

“Popo, don’t eat this one.”

When Keter pointed at Contact, the acidity melting him weakened.

“Good boy, Popo.”

Popo couldn’t speak, but he understood Keter’s words perfectly and obeyed.

The two Red Eye Gang members who had been with Contact were digested by Popo, leaving not even scraps of clothing or bone dust behind. Contact, immobilized, was dropped in front of Keter.

Thud.

Contact, soaked in slime fluid and nearly naked, trembled like a leaf.

“Guh, guh!”

Spitting out the slime fluid that had entered his mouth, Contact couldn’t lift his head. He was terrified of Keter, who was waiting for him to finish coughing. He had seen too well the fates of those who became Keter’s enemies.

Even before coming here, he had seen them. Human worms with crippled limbs. Those who had to crawl miserably on the ground, only to meet a horrific end…

“Will I… become like them?”

Suicide didn’t work against Keter. He was a madman who would use expensive elixirs to revive those who tried to kill themselves.

“I gave you 10 seconds because I recognized your face. Now get up.”

Snap!

“Why did you come?”

Normally, in a conversation, it’s easier to understand if you start from the beginning. For example, “I’m going to ask you some questions now. If you don’t answer, I’ll turn you into a worm. Why did you come to my office?”

But Keter didn’t bother with such words. He didn’t need to. The listener would understand on their own.

If they didn’t?

Those who couldn’t read the situation had already become worms or died.

“I wanted the treasure.”

“Treasure? Is my office some kind of dungeon… Oh, right.”

Is there treasure? YES.

Are there traps? YES.

Are there monsters guarding it? YES.

Satisfied, Keter moved on to the next question.

“Who put the idea in your head? That looting my office would be profitable.”

The traces of intruders in the office weren’t all the same. They were all different.

“It’s an open secret that the Solver’s office has treasure… Everyone in Ruquer covets your office.”

“How did you know I wasn’t here?”

At Keter’s words, Contact gulped.

“So, Keter left Ruquer and came back.”

Rumors had spread in Ruquer. Rumors that Keter had disappeared from “Ruquer.”

At first, they dismissed it. Keter had faked his death or disappeared as a joke before.

But this time was different.

“Keter can leave Ruquer. He disappeared for a few days and came back, meaning he left Ruquer and returned.”

Such rumors began to spread.

At first, of course, no one believed it. What kind of place is Ruquer, where you can come and go as you please?

But the bet with Cork for the position of Mercenary Guild branch leader, Keter’s disappearance after the Red Comet raid, and other events only deepened people’s suspicions.

“We can’t find Keter anywhere.”

“No one has seen Keter in Ruquer’s underground.”

“Can Keter really leave Ruquer?”

And then, an event occurred that turned suspicion into certainty.

“The Grand Duke… has left his seat.”

With that one sentence from Contact, Keter understood many things.

Why Ruquer was in chaos. Why others were certain he wasn’t in “Ruquer.”

The Grand Duke’s presence was both the center and the shackles of Ruquer. Saying he had left his seat meant he had effectively withdrawn from Ruquer.

Otherwise, Ruquer wouldn’t be in such a state.

“Well, this might also be part of the Grand Duke’s plan.”

Speculating on the Grand Duke’s intentions was a waste of time, so Keter didn’t dwell on it.

“Since I didn’t appear in Ruquer without the Grand Duke, they naturally assumed I wasn’t here.”

“…Yes.”

“Hmm, thanks to that, I roughly understand everything now.”

“What will happen to me now?”

“What do you want to happen?”

“I want to live.”

“With nothing to offer?”

Contact drew a dagger from his waist, held it in a reverse grip, and sliced off his right wrist.

Splat!

“Ugh… I offer this… as a sign of apology.”

Contact offered his severed wrist.

Keter swatted it away in disgust.

“You lunatic. What am I supposed to do with your hand? You should offer money or some juicy information. Or is there someone who’ll buy your wrist?”

“…Ah.”

“Ah, my foot. Hurry up and hand over everything you’ve got, then get lost.”

The severed wrist was cleanly cut, so it could be reattached if treated quickly. In a panic, Contact handed over all his money and briefly summarized the current situation in Ruquer.

* * *

After hearing the general situation in Ruquer from Contact, Keter’s fingers itched.

“So, they’re fighting over territories.”

Ruquer had numerous factions, large and small, and they were now killing and plundering, causing utter chaos.

All to expand their territories and become the new “Grand Duke” of Ruquer.

“I want in.”

No matter how much the Grand Duke exerted control, he never prohibited fighting itself.

However, full-scale wars between factions had to be fought at designated “places” and “times.”

With those restrictions gone, Ruquer had become a 24/7 battlefield, with endless fighting day and night.

Keter wanted to dive into that battlefield and wreak havoc. Because those guys didn’t understand the value of the “weak.”

“The strong exist because of the weak. Why don’t those bastards get that?”

Where do the clothes they wear and the food they eat come from? Someone had to gather or make them.

And those people are weak. They’re not “martial artists” pursuing strength. It’s natural for them to be weak.

They should be protected. You can’t just plunder and kill them as you please. In the end, it’s the “strong” who suffer.

You should plunder and kill in moderation. Otherwise, who will farm, cook, and make clothes?

“The weak and the strong are relative. If the weak disappear, even among the strong, the weaker ones will emerge, and eventually, everyone will die.”

The Grand Duke’s role was to suppress this vicious cycle, and Keter, understanding this, had inwardly supported it.

Even now, he was slightly conflicted.

“Should I take the Grand Duke’s place and maintain order in Ruquer?”

Ruquer, a smelly, dirty, petty, and violent city. A rotten city with not a single good point.

Yet, Ruquer was Keter’s hometown.

The outside world with its blue skies and family was nice, but Keter didn’t hate this rotten Ruquer. It was a hometown he wanted to return to someday, a place he had a love-hate relationship with.

“But I don’t want to abandon Sephira either.”

However, Keter’s dilemma didn’t last long. A solution immediately came to mind.

“I don’t have to do it all alone.”

While his presence was essential in Sephira, Ruquer was different. There were plenty of talented individuals who could take over his role.

“After all, I’m also the branch leader of the Mercenary Guild here.”

Using mercenaries to maintain order in Ruquer. That was Keter’s simple and clear plan.

With that, Keter left his office and headed to where Maknun was, a place that was also the spiritual pillar of the mercenaries.

To Joyray’s Tavern.

* * *

The surface of Ruquer was far more chaotic than Keter had anticipated. Everywhere he went, there were burning buildings, corpses, blood, and swarms of flies.

The people of Ruquer roaming the streets held weapons, their eyes showing the determination to kill anyone who approached.

“Keter?”

“Is that Keter?”

“He’s back…”

Even the violent, bloodthirsty people of Ruquer couldn’t help but shrink back like dogs meeting a dogcatcher when they saw Keter.

Moreover, Keter had returned even stronger after the Southern Sword Tournament. The people of Ruquer, who fundamentally wielded aura, could feel in their souls, not just their skin, that Keter had become even more of a monster.

Admiring the chaos of Ruquer, Keter arrived at Joyray’s Tavern and stroked his chin.

“Hoh.”

In front of the tavern, corpses were piled up, but they were different from the ones on the streets.

“Clean.”

Foreheads, necks, or solar plexuses.

All had been pierced by something.

Among them were even those wearing Amantiir armor, yet they too had been cleanly impaled.

“Does that mean they kill anyone who enters?”

There was no such sign on the door, but that’s how Keter felt. A warning shown not through words but through corpses.

Of course, Keter wasn’t one to be intimidated. He forcefully opened the tavern door.

Creak!

As if waiting for this moment, a flash of light burst from inside the tavern, and daggers flew toward him.

These weren’t simple, straight-thrown projectiles.

They were the foundation of Keter’s archery, the Celestial Infinity Technique. The origin of the technique that provided the idea for controlling arrows.

Joyray’s Aura Blade, aimed at Keter’s vital points, came flying at him.