In a deserted alley not far from the tailor shop, Arcus took off the worn cloak he was wearing and tossed it onto a pile of wooden barrels without hesitation.
He immediately donned his new black cloak. The fabric fell neatly over his maroon suit, concealing the Sirius Piercer bow on his back, yet providing a far more dignified silhouette.
In his left hand, he carried a cloth bag containing two extra cloaks for Alphonse and Vrischil.
Arcus smiled faintly, recalling the warm smile of the shop girl earlier. That girl gave me this cloth bag for free and called me 'My Lord Noble' with a blush on her cheeks, Arcus thought, amused.
He looked down, viewing his pair of polished, expensive leather dress shoes, the only part not covered by the cloak. Is it because of these shoes? Or because of my handsome face that cannot be hidden even by a cloak's hood? Definitely the latter.
As he stepped back onto the main street, Arcus realized the sky was beginning to change color. A reddish-orange hue decorated the western horizon. Dusk was approaching.
His brow furrowed slightly. When he first arrived in the swamp, the sky there was pitch-black with night. Yet here, in Wealden City, the sun was only just about to set.
Time zone differences, Arcus concluded.
This fact cemented one crucial thing in his mind. Planet Orion was not merely a virtual space with a simultaneously programmed day-night cycle. This was a real world spinning on its axis, exactly like Earth.
Arcus walked with a casual pace, letting his eyes record the life of this new world. The city's atmosphere in the afternoon felt incredibly lively and peaceful.
The wheels of wooden carts creaked softly across the neatly laid cobblestone streets. The hum of conversation from merchants beginning to pack up their stalls sounded harmonious.
There was no tension in the shoulders of the pedestrians, and the patrolling city guards appeared relaxed, exuding no aura of vigilance. Down the street, the sound of children's laughter as they chased each other pierced the cool afternoon air.
Arcus's stomach signaled him. He spotted a dining tavern at an intersection, filled with locals and several adventurers.
He stepped inside, ordered a portion of roasted meat, wheat bread, and a mug of ale, then chose an empty table in the corner.
While waiting for his order, his sharp hearing caught the conversation from the adjacent table.
At that table sat a group of four adventurers. They wore incredibly basic equipment: a Warrior with a greatsword, a second Warrior resting his iron spear against the table, a Rogue playing with a small dagger, and an Archer with an ordinary wooden bow.
"Damn it," the greatsword wielder complained, gulping his beer roughly. "Those bastard goblins are retreating further into the Forest."
"We have to walk miles deeper just to find their tracks. How are we supposed to complete this hunting quest on time?" he continued, annoyed.
"Do you think this has anything to do with the Falling Star phenomenon this afternoon?" the Rogue chimed in, tapping the table with the hilt of his dagger.
"On the Guild board, I saw an emergency quest from the city military to investigate an anomaly deep inside the forest. The payout is fifty silver coins."
The Archer's eyes widened. "Fifty?! Divided by four, we could get more than ten silvers a head! But... the situation is strange right now. Are you sure it's safe to go that deep?"
The greatsword wielder snorted. "This is a great opportunity. With the money and prestige from that quest, we're just a step away from being promoted to Silver-rank adventurers."
The spear wielder, who had been silent all this time, finally spoke up, letting out a long sigh as he stared at his mug. "Whatever about the promotion. I just hope the anomaly in that forest doesn't bring disaster and ruin the peace of this city."
Arcus, listening in silence, analyzed the four individuals using his ocular ability. He could see through their muscles and the thin mana flow within their bodies.
Incredibly weak, Arcus thought dismissively. Converted to the game's system, they haven't even touched Level 20.
However, their complaints provided valuable information. The forest appeared to be indeed devoid of small monsters.
Arcus remembered Alphonse's tale—his friend encountered no monsters other than a pack of Dire Wolves before meeting Vrischil.
Something, or someone, has suppressed the monster population on the outskirts of the forest.
Recalling the spear wielder's words about the 'peace of the city', Arcus smiled cynically. His mind drifted to the six thugs in the alley earlier.
Behind a peaceful city, there will always be cancer cells gnawing from within the sewers.
The waitress arrived bearing his order. Arcus took a bite of the roasted meat.
He frowned.
It tasted bland, the meat was tough, and the bread was far too hard. Way below his standards. He called the waitress back, ordering two additional portions to go—he couldn't possibly let Vrischil and Alphonse starve.
Once his takeaway food was ready, the waitress stated the price.
"That will be thirty copper coins in total, Sir."
Arcus pulled a silver coin from his cloak pocket and placed it on the table. The waitress smiled, then handed him seventy copper coins in change.
As he stepped out of the tavern, Arcus's brain noted a simple calculation. Thirty paid with one hundred, seventy in change. The currency ratio is one silver coin equals one hundred copper coins. Exactly the same as in the game. Good.
Night had fully enveloped Wealden City. The streets began to quiet down. The light from the street crystals elongated Arcus's shadow across the cobblestones.
As he walked a few blocks closer to the Black Crow Inn, his pace remained unchanged, but his instincts twitched.
The sharp corners of his eyes caught unnatural movements. There were shadows shifting behind wooden barrels, atop low roofs, and between the gaps of dark alleys.
He was being watched. Followed.
Arcus let out a long sigh. His mood was actually quite terrible. The image of Alphonse lying blood-soaked was still vividly etched in his mind. He had neither the time nor the patience to entertain a game of cat and mouse.
As he turned right toward the inn, taking only a few steps, the road ahead of him was blocked.
A group of fierce-faced men stepped out of the darkness, drawing swords, axes, spears, and spiked wooden maces.
From the crowd in front, a man pointed at Arcus with a trembling hand. It was Fred, one of the six thugs he had beaten up that afternoon.
"That's him, Boss! That's the guy!" Fred exclaimed in a shrill voice.
Arcus listened to the sound of approaching footsteps from behind his back. He turned his head slightly and saw the end of the street he had entered from was also blocked by another group.
"The surrounding area is secure, Boss Bryan!" shouted a skinny man from the back, laughing mockingly.
Arcus stood calmly in the middle of the street. There were eighteen armed men in total surrounding him.
From the front line, the crowd of thugs parted. A large man with bulging muscles beneath his leather armor stepped forward.
Bryan, the leader, stared at Arcus with a confident, condescending smile.
"Hand over that bag, and all the coins and valuables you are hiding beneath that cloak, My Lord Noble," Bryan demanded, his heavy voice echoing down the street.
Bryan crossed his arms over his chest. "I admire your ability to incapacitate six of my boys earlier. A fairly decent surprise attack."
"But..." He spread his arms, gesturing to the eighteen bloodthirsty, grinning thugs. "Fighting eighteen armed men head-on in a dead-end street is not a wise move."
Bryan leaned forward, attempting to intimidate. "I am a generous man. Hand over your wealth, and I will not kill you tonight."
Silence descended upon the alley. The night wind blew, slightly lifting the hem of Arcus's cloak, revealing the faint gleam of his expensive leather shoes.
From beneath his dark hood, a cold snort was heard. It was not the sound of a terrified man, but the sound of someone who felt his time was being wasted.
Arcus lifted his face. His blue eyes flashed sharply amidst the darkness, staring at Bryan as if looking at a swarm of insects.
"Come at me, all of you," Arcus said. His voice was calm, yet it sliced through the night air like a sword blade. "I do not have time to play games."
The veins on Bryan's neck bulged. His pride was torn hearing that dismissive tone. "Finish him!" he roared furiously.
In the front line, Garn pressed his dagger into Fred's back. "You go first!" Garn threatened.
Fred swallowed hard. Cold sweat poured down his temples.
With a desperate scream, Fred charged forward, his sword raised high. The rest of the pack immediately followed from all directions, like a pack of hyenas catching the scent of blood.
The fight broke out.
Fred swung his weapon downwards.
[Tier D - Power Slash] The air whistled softly under the pressure of the metal blade.
Arcus did not draw his weapon. He merely tilted his body an inch to the side. Fred's sword blade cleaved empty air, striking the cobblestone ground.
Without wasting momentum, Arcus's two fingers darted out like an arrow, pecking the base of Fred's neck. Right on a nerve point. Fred's eyes widened, his body stiffened for a moment, then collapsed to the ground without a sound.
Three thugs charged from the left side. One of them leapt forward with [Tier D - Single Thrust], the tip of his spear aiming straight for Arcus's chest.
To Arcus, their movements were incredibly slow. He stepped sideways, letting the momentum of the attack pass him by.
His left hand moved, parrying the spear shaft with the back of his hand, while his right palm struck the attacker's solar plexus.
"Ugh..."
The thug dropped to his knees, his eyes rolling back, his consciousness vanishing before his body touched the ground.
From his blind spot, a man rushed in while swinging dual swords.
[Tier D - Double Slash]
Arcus ducked. Flashes of metal passed right over his hair.
He rotated his hips, sweeping his leg at the enemy's ankles, then landed a palm strike to the lower jaw of the tumbling man. His enemy's consciousness was severed instantly.
A dull vibration ran up Arcus's arm—a reminder that he had to hold back his strength so as not to shatter these people's skulls.
Two other thugs attacked simultaneously from the right side. [Tier D - Quick Slash] and [Tier D - Hard Hit].
Arcus closed the distance in a single breath. A swift elbow landed on the first thug's shoulder joint, disabling his arm, followed by a hard rap on the temple that knocked him unconscious.
Arcus proceeded to grab the second thug's wrist, twisting it until his weapon clattered onto the stones, then landed a light knee strike to the stomach. Air was forced from the thug's lungs, sending him tumbling down.
Dust flew. The sound of bodies falling echoed in rapid succession.
Fear began to spread among the remaining besiegers. The thugs still standing hesitated to take a step. Their breathing grew ragged. Their eyes darted wildly, staring at the pile of their helpless comrades on the ground.
Arcus stepped slowly among the sprawled bodies. There was not a single drop of sweat on his forehead.
Morg, who had initially been laughing in the back, now trembled while gripping his dagger. He forced himself forward while screaming hysterically, slashing blindly.
Arcus merely slipped beneath his wild swing, then delivered a sharp thrust to a nerve point below Morg's ribs. The pockmarked man fell face-first instantly.
In a matter of seconds, seventeen men had fallen.
The previously noisy street was now filled only with the soft groans of whimpering men, and several in an unconscious state.
At the end of the street, Bryan stood frozen. His face was deathly pale.
His eyes bulged, witnessing how all his subordinates were incapacitated without the slightest meaningful resistance, without any skills being used, and without any weapons drawn from their scabbards.
His survival instinct overrode his common sense. Bryan turned around. He ran as fast as his legs could carry him into the darkness of the street to save himself.
Arcus stared at that retreating back. His hand slowly reached into a small pocket beneath his cloak. A silver coin was pulled out, placed perfectly between his thumb and index finger.
With a casual flick, yet driven by the strength of a Level 100 Player, the silver coin shot out, cleaving the air. It whined sharply, slicing the night wind.
Smack!
The silver coin struck right behind Bryan's right knee.
"Aaahhhh..."
Bryan's right leg lost function instantly.
The momentum of his sprint sent his body tumbling forward, dragging hard across the cobblestone street until his shoulder and face were scraped by the rough asphalt.
Bryan whimpered in pain, holding his breath as he tried to drag his body away using his hands.
From behind, the sound of slow, approaching footsteps was heard. Every tap of the boot upon the stone sounded like a countdown locking his fate.
Arcus stopped right beside the helplessly sprawled Bryan. The young man looked down, viewing the thug leader with a gaze as cold as ice.
"That is the silver coin you asked for."