"No thanks," Roger said with a smile, taking the heavy bag of bread from the shopkeeper.
"Dad should be here soon. Thanks for the bread, Uncle. We're off now."
He waved to the shopkeeper, and Erza and Kagura chimed in with their thanks.
With the shopkeeper's call of "Be careful on the road!" ringing behind them, the three hurried out of the bakery.
Birds chirped noisily from the rooftops, and sunlight filtered through sparse clouds, casting a warm glow on the quiet streets.
Kagura nibbled on a piece of bread, looking up curiously. "Brother Roger, are we heading straight to that… uh… big moving cart thing now?"
Roger shook his head, his smile unchanged but his voice lowering slightly. "Not yet, Kagura. Act like you're admiring the scenery and take a quick glance back at the spot by the blue house—near the trash can."
Kagura held her breath and nodded. Pretending to be distracted by a bird on the roadside, she casually turned her head, her eyes scanning the empty street.
But in that split second, her peripheral vision locked onto a dirty green trash can.
A blurry, hunched figure was pressed against the wall behind it! A small patch of dark black fabric stood out sharply, reflected in Kagura's suddenly shrinking pupils.
She whipped her head back, heart pounding, and whispered urgently, "There's someone behind the trash can! Brother Roger, we're being followed!"
Roger handed her another piece of bread with a calm smile. "Relax, he's too far to hear us."
Realizing she'd overreacted, Kagura sheepishly scratched her head, took the bread, and bit into it hard to steady herself. "Brother Roger, Sister Erza… did you guys already know he was tailing us?"
Erza took a piece of bread from Roger and nodded. "Yup. Before we left the village, Grandpa Village Chief taught us how to sense someone's presence."
She tore off a small chunk of bread. "That guy's footsteps are heavy, and his breathing's so loud it's like a bellows. It'd be hard not to notice him."
Kagura's eyes lit up with awe. "That's so cool! Can I learn that?"
"Of course," Roger said, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
"But first, we need to have a little… heart-to-heart with our friend who's been following us."
…
Behind the trash can, a scruffy man with a stubbly beard leaned against the cold wall, yawning out of boredom.
Then, like he'd been stung, he snapped upright, half his face practically buried in the sour stench of the trash can, his eyes locked on the scene ahead.
Those three kids! They'd just turned into a secluded alley!
A greedy grin spread across his face as his eyes raked over the three small figures, lingering on the scarlet-haired girl.
He licked his cracked lips, his mouth curling into a silent sneer.
"Well, well, luck's on my side!" he thought gleefully. "Look at those ragged, muddy clothes—three helpless war orphans! Practically begging to be snatched up!"
Visions of the hefty bounty promised by his boss set his blood on fire. His hands rubbed together instinctively, as if he could already feel the weight of a fat coin purse.
Taking a deep breath to suppress the excitement threatening to burst out, he slunk forward like a hyena stalking prey, creeping silently into the dim alley.
The alley was eerily quiet, the only sound their faint footsteps echoing off the walls. Seizing his chance, the man surged forward, closing the distance to the boy in a few strides!
His thick arm clamped around the boy like an iron vice, while his other hand whipped out a gleaming dagger from his waist, pressing the cold blade precisely against the boy's slender neck.
"Don't move!" he roared at the two girls who spun around in shock, his voice booming through the narrow alley with cruel satisfaction.
"Do exactly what I say, or I'll slit this brat's throat right now!"
"Let me go, you jerk!" The boy in his grip thrashed wildly, like a cornered animal.
The man's face twisted into a snarl. He switched the dagger to his other hand, using his now-free hand to clamp down on the boy's throat, his fingers tightening like steel claws. "Keep squirming, you little pest, and I'll end you right here!"
The boy's face turned from pale to red, then a sickly purple, as pained gasps escaped his throat. His struggles visibly weakened.
Worried he might actually kill his "valuable catch," the man was about to ease up when one of the girls let out a desperate, tearful cry: "No! Please! Don't hurt my brother! We'll go with you! We'll do anything you say!"
The sound of her pleading was music to his ears. He loosened his grip on the boy's throat, smirking as the kid coughed and gasped like a fish out of water.
"Smart choice!" he sneered, pressing the dagger back against the boy's skin. "Stay in line, and follow me back to—"
His words cut off abruptly, his mind going blank.
The base… where was the base again?
Frowning in confusion, he rubbed his forehead hard with his free hand.
"Weird… it was right on the tip of my tongue…" he muttered, shaking his head irritably. Then, like a spark, it hit him.
"Right! The Dusty Inn! The basement of that rundown inn on the west side of town!"
"What the hell, how'd I forget that…" he grumbled, brushing off the momentary lapse.
Overwhelmed with glee, he shoved his three "prizes" through a nearby tunnel, leading them deep into the base until they reached a door marked with crossed daggers.
Barely containing his excitement, he knocked lightly, his voice laced with forced respect: "Boss! It's me, Kasorn! Got three prime catches!"
The door creaked open with a soft groan.
Behind it, a burly, bald man sat sprawled on a wide leather sofa, his sharp gaze slicing through the three kids at the door like a blade.
Kasorn stood frozen, barely daring to breathe, waiting anxiously for his boss's reaction.
When the man's eyes landed on the three—especially the delicate, doll-like girl—his stern lips curved into a satisfied smirk, and he gave a slight nod.
"Kasorn," the boss's voice rumbled low and gravelly, "you did good this time."
"Thank you, Boss!" Kasorn's heart nearly leaped out of his chest.
"Take them to Kress later for three million," the boss said casually.
"Three million?!" Kasorn's face flushed red, his body trembling with ecstasy. That kind of money would keep him living large for a long time!
The boss seemed pleased with his reaction, his left hand resting lazily on the sofa's armrest, fingers tapping rhythmically. His eyes narrowed with scrutiny. "You think… you've got what it takes to be a squad leader?"
"Squad… leader?!" Kasorn's eyes bulged, bloodshot with disbelief, his voice pitching high. "I'm ready! More than ready, Boss! I swear!"
The boss stood slowly, his towering frame radiating authority as he stepped toward Kasorn, cutting him off. "Let me ask you," he said, his voice low but commanding, "do you know the ins and outs of everyone in this base?"
Kasorn nodded frantically, like a bobblehead, eager to prove himself. "Absolutely, Boss! I know it all! You're officially a C-rank, but your real strength is B-rank! We've got three legit C-rank guys holding things down, and the rest are just grunts—warehouse workers, kid-traders, that sort."
"I see," the boss said, a cryptic smile spreading across his face. He gave Kasorn's shoulder a light pat. "You know a lot, don't you?"
Kasorn's eyes gleamed with uncontainable joy, his voice quivering with flattery. "So… does that mean I can—"
Shlick!
A faint, bone-chilling sound of metal piercing flesh cut through the air.
Agony exploded in Kasorn's chest. He looked down, stunned.
A bloodied silver sword tip protruded from his chest, warm, sticky blood gushing down the blade and soaking his shirt.
Following the bloodied sword upward, he stared in disbelief at the person holding it—his boss, the one who'd just patted his shoulder and promised him a promotion!
But now, that familiar smile on the boss's face looked eerie and cold in the dim light.
"Why…" Kasorn gasped, his throat making a gurgling sound as he tried to find answers in the man's eyes. But the boss only smiled silently, his expression like a frozen mask.
Dizziness hit Kasorn like a black tide, flooding his mind.
His eyelids grew heavy as lead, his vision blurring, spinning, fracturing… In the final moment before darkness claimed him, he thought he saw something.
The "boss" holding the sword seemed to warp and shift, his outline twisting until it settled into the form of the boy from the alley—the one whose neck he'd held, whose face had turned purple under his grip!
And the lavish room around them peeled away like fading paint, reverting to the cold, lifeless alley!
"Could this be… retribution…?"
The thought flashed through his chaotic mind like lightning, but before he could dwell on it, endless darkness swallowed him whole.
Thud!
Kasorn's body went rigid, collapsing to the dusty ground like a fallen log.
The dull impact echoed in the cramped space, kicking up a cloud of choking dust.
Roger, expressionless, pulled the bloodied sword from the corpse, wiping the blade on Kasorn's grimy coat. A faint white light flickered, and the sword vanished.
"That was amazing!" Erza stared at the lifeless man on the ground, her face full of shock. "He just stood there and spilled all his secrets! We didn't even have to ask a single question!"
"Is that… illusion magic?!"