Outside the port,
low sheds, flowing sewage, and ragged passersby with hardened expressions or half-dressed bodies painted a typical scene of the civilian district.
It stood in stark contrast to the clean, orderly streets of the port itself.
A waiter assigned by Grayza waited at the entrance to the slums. He addressed Gawain in a slightly apologetic tone.
"Sir, most arms trades are conducted in the black market. The people inside come from all walks of life. Even if the Lord wishes to regulate it… his hands are tied."
He added, "Running a port isn't as easy as it looks. You go after the big fish, and let the small ones go. As long as there's no major chaos, we tend to turn a blind eye to this place."
"I can't go in with you. Please, be careful."
The waiter gave Gawain a polite bow and prepared to leave, but Kuro suddenly asked:
"Do we get this treatment because we're special, or do the others get it too?"
The waiter blinked, then smirked.
"Please don't misunderstand."
"In the Lord's own words: 'Compared to that lot, you actually look like proper navy men.'"
With that, his gaze lingered on their faces for a moment, then he smiled faintly and walked away.
"…What's that supposed to mean?" Kuro muttered, confused.
"He's saying you're handsome," Gawain replied with a grin.
Kuro flushed instantly.
He had been at sea for over a decade. People usually said he looked grim or intimidating. No one had ever praised him so openly before.
He mumbled under his breath, "You're too talkative."
Gawain's grin only widened.
Food and medicine were easy to acquire through official channels. While a bit pricey, the quality was good and delivery was fast. It didn't take them long to get those sorted.
The hard part was the weapons and ammunition. For that, they needed Kuro's contact: Habin.
They followed a route Kuro still remembered, leading to a small bar tucked in a corner.
The moment Gawain stepped in, the stench of alcohol and something fouler assaulted his nose, making him frown. Kuro walked straight to the far corner, and Gawain followed closely behind.
There, a low door awaited them.
Given that both men were over two meters tall, they had to duck to get through.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Kuro knocked on the door.
With a creak, a sly-looking face peeked out from behind it—it was Habin.
"Well, well~" he said. "Isn't this Kuro? I thought you retired. What's the old sea dog doing back?"
"Cut the crap," Kuro snapped.
"Flintlock ammunition, 300 sets. 100mm shells, 500 rounds. What's the total cost?"
"Let me do the math~"
Habin wiggled his fingers theatrically, glanced between Kuro and Gawain, then said cheerfully:
"Thirty million Baileys!"
"Are you insane?" Kuro growled.
"That same batch cost less than ten million last time! Tripled?! You think you can spend that money if you're dead?"
"Hey now, try to see it from my side~" Habin spread his arms in mock sympathy. "It cost a fortune to get myself out of the navy, and I'm deep in debt. Arms dealing is dangerous work. You want to haggle with a dead man?"
As he spoke, several patrons in the bar rose from their seats and slowly surrounded the pair. Under the dim lights, their drawn blades glinted coldly. They'd clearly prepared for trouble.
Kuro clenched his teeth, restraining the urge to escalate things. He raised two fingers.
"Twenty million. That's my final offer."
Habin chuckled, about to counter again—but then a cold voice interrupted.
"Kuro," Gawain said flatly, "this is not how you bargain."
He calmly drew the long sword at his waist, his aura shifting in an instant. The pressure he exuded was suffocating—enough to make the nearly hundred thugs hesitate to move.
Cold sweat beaded on Habin's forehead as he stared at Gawain in disbelief.
"Hey, hey, Kuro—where'd you find this guy? He's scarier than you!"
"Guy?" Kuro smirked. "That's my captain."
"You work under him? What's he trying to do, get himself killed?"
Kuro snorted. "He's not like us. He's a monster."
Gawain was done waiting.
"Ten million," he said coldly.
Habin's vest was already soaked in sweat, but he forced himself to grit his teeth.
"Twenty."
A flash of silver light burst through the bar.
Screams followed. Blood sprayed. An ear hit the ground, severed cleanly from its owner.
Gawain, like death incarnate, drifted through the crowd with his sword. Wherever he went, blood followed.
The thugs gripped their weapons tightly but didn't dare move. No one felt safe—not even armed.
"Eight million," Gawain said, his voice low and clear. Habin trembled, his bravado shattered.
He understood all too well: Gawain could kill them all—and would do it without hesitation.
"Aren't you going too far?!" Habin shouted, desperate.
"Six—"
"Eight! Eight million!" Habin cried, cutting Gawain off, voice shaking. If this kept going, he'd lose more than money—he'd lose everything.
"I said, six million," Gawain repeated, now standing in front of him. His voice allowed no argument.
Habin opened his mouth, but all he saw was his group—his men clutching at severed ears, faces twisted in pain, none daring to make a sound.
He shivered.
"Six million. Fine. Six million!" he spat out.
He just wanted this nightmare to end. Profit didn't matter anymore.
If Gawain started cutting again, his men would desert. He couldn't afford to be left alone.
"Don't try anything funny," Kuro warned with a grin, slapping Habin lightly on the cheek. "If he starts swinging again, I might not be able to stop him~"
Habin didn't respond. He was too afraid.
Gawain glanced down at his sword, now chipped and cracked.
The once-proud knight's blade was battered, its spine fractured from his previous battle with Kuro. In contrast, Kuro's claw knife still looked new.
The quality gap was obvious.
"…Time for a new weapon," Gawain muttered.
A few hours later, the sun dipped toward the horizon, casting the sky in shades of red and gold.
A group dressed as marines entered the slums, hauling wax-paper-wrapped crates of ammunition.
Kuro inspected the goods thoroughly. Once he confirmed everything was in order, he nodded.
"No problem. It's all usable."
"Good," Gawain replied. His eyes drifted toward the calm sea.
The waves were gentle, a few seabirds circling above the water. And yet, something gnawed at his mind.
A quiet unease.
He turned to Kuro.
"Get these loaded on the ship. I'm going to warn that woman. If my suspicions are right—once Krieg's people strike—this whole port will fall."
Kuro blinked. "Is that really necessary?"
Gawain smiled faintly.
"Someone called you handsome today, remember?"
"…Boring."