The Inner-Dimension Realm—the Bearer Black Market—was located beneath abandoned buildings. The decaying surface was a perfect, unassuming cover for the thriving clandestine activities below.
"Hmm, this place is well hidden," I murmured, my voice lost to the oppressive silence of the abandoned street. "I'm impressed."
I entered one of the buildings that looked like a theater in its prime. The moment I stepped over the crumbling threshold, I felt the familiar, heavy blanket of dark energy. It was a tangible presence, thicker than the dust motes dancing in the faint light filtering through shattered windows. This density was standard for old, neglected places—but here, it was amplified, a sure sign of the market burrowing beneath.
I followed the sound, descending flights of grimy, cracked stairs deeper into the building's bowels, past storage rooms filled with the ghosts of old props and costumes, until I reached the deepest sub-level—the basement. There, the music was loud and inescapable, thumping against a thick, unyielding metal door. I stood there for a second.
It would be pretty stupid to knock. I would probably be killed as soon as the door opens.
Before I could finish the thought a voice sounded from behind the door.
-Who is it?
The voice was rather unexpected as it was thin and faint, not something that would one expect from an underground gang member.
After a moment of utter surprise and confusion I replied:
-Ahm it's….me I guess?
After a few moments of silence which made me sweat, the door opened. I glanced down and saw a tiny man. He had a long, crooked nose and wore round glasses. He appeared anxious, perhaps even terrified by the sight of me, which in turn made me feel uncomfortably self-aware.
He must be new in the job, I thought, a mix of pity and spiteful humor accompanying the thought as I walked past him.
What unfolded before me was astonishing. The place was a labyrinth of alleys and structures, each one screaming "serious shady business." A few run-down apartment blocks were visible, likely sheltering the nation's most wanted. The streets were teeming with vile wraiths and all manner of sly, dangerous Aspect users: rogue bearers who had abandoned their posts for power or profit, massive, armed thugs serving as muscle, and small-time criminals too insignificant to be chased elsewhere.
The very dirt beneath my worn-out boots carried the stench of stale beer and old blood—a truly repulsive cocktail that spoke of relentless, unpunished crime. I could feel the invisible, glaring sign on me that shouted 'outsider,' marking me as a bright red target for every lowlife in this concrete jungle.
I was ready for a fight, mentally prepping for anything. But weirdly, nobody attacked. Not one person even gave me a death stare or tried to stop me. It was a bizarre, silent 'pass.' Then it hit me: in this place, just having the guts, or maybe the sheer strength, to walk through the entrance meant they weren't going to mess with me—for now, anyway. Staying alive here was a total gamble, paid for with some secret, unspoken price, and I'd just put down the first installment.
-You look desperate. Desperate people aren't picky. Follow me. - A voice said unsettlingly close to my ear. When I turned around, I could only see a cloak disappearing in one of the dark sidestreets.
I followed. When I entered the narrow street, I met the threatening and curious gazes of the shadows. I wasn't scared or intimidated. I knew what I was capable of, they could fight me head on if they wanted to.
The cloaked figure stopped in front of a basement door. She didn't say anything until I stood right in front of her.
-The job is down here. - she said, her face was hidden beneath the cloak and I couldn't sense any cursed energy in her.
She let me enter the door first, then she followed me closing it behind us.
I lit my fire and all I could see were wraiths crawling across the floor, feeding on fear trapped in the walls. They were low level wraiths, nothing dangerous but they were many.
"Your job is simple," the voice from behind me, sharp and dismissive, echoed in the dimly lit, damp basement. The air was thick with the scent of aged concrete and something metallic, faintly sweet—maybe old blood.
"Capture a low-level wraith and deliver it to the Kuromumo-kai. They'll use it as a surveillance tool. It should be easy enough." The last sentence was laced with heavy sarcasm, a clear jab at my perceived lack of skill or experience. "You will get your payment once the job is done."
And with that final, curt sentence, she began to walk away, her footsteps echoing on the stone steps leading up.
"Wait!" I called out, a genuine note of confusion in my voice. "Who are the Kuromumo-kai and where can I find them?"
She stopped dead on the stairs. The silence that followed was heavy and stretched out, broken only by the drip of water somewhere in the darkness. Slowly, she turned back, her expression a mixture of disbelief, irritation, and sheer contempt.
"You don't know who the Kuromumo-kai are?" she threw the question at me, her voice slow, a testament to her shock.
Before I could respond, she scornfully pressed on. "You know nothing, yet had the audacity—or stupidity—to walk in here." She scoffed, clearly despising my ignorance and annoyed by my presence.
The Kuromumo-kai is one of the three primary gangs dominating the underground. Known for their expertise in assassination—essentially weaponizing the act—they are the most territorial and deeply paranoid of the groups. Their illicit operations span the entire nation, and they are also associated with one of the darkest and most potent Aspects. Their headquarters can be located at the inner circle's south-west corner. That is all the information you require. Proceed with caution.
And just as quickly as she had appeared, she vanished into the gloom above, leaving me alone in the oppressive basement.
A slow, calculating smile spread across my face, the kind that promised trouble. "Things are working out just as I wanted," I muttered to myself, the words a low, conspiratorial whisper. The payment was clearly worth the minor inconvenience of having to deal with a condescending handler. "Now, which one of you little shits wants to come with me?"
I looked around the dark space. Curled up in a dusty corner, I spotted a creature that fit the description: a small, insect-like wraith, its body the color of dried mud. It had unnervingly crab-like legs and huge, bulbous eyes that reflected the faint light. Honestly, with its awkward movements and curious gaze, it was almost... cute.
This should be easy enough.
It was not.
The wraith, despite its low level, was surprisingly agile. It didn't want to be caught. It zipped around the basement floor, dodging all of my clumsy attempts to trap it with an infuriating ease.
"Stop moving so fast, damn it!" I snapped, my patience wearing thin.
If somebody saw me right now, chasing a tiny crab-bug, they would be laughing their ass off.
I changed tactics, crouching, letting the wraith's chaotic energy work against it. When it scurried close, I lunged, jumping directly on top of it, pinning the small creature. It let out a pathetic, high-pitched squeak.
"Gotcha!" I exclaimed, holding it securely in my grasp. "Sorry, bud, but I need the money. I hope you are worth enough for a meal, though."
I exited the oppressive basement, stepping back out into the cool, dark alley. My eyes were now faintly glowing a vibrant, unnatural pink—the visual sign of my active aspect with which I was maintaining a hold on the struggling wraith.
This time, the shadows weren't just staring; they seemed to actively creep back into the deep darkness, yielding a clear path for me to walk. The realization that my presence alone was enough to make the darkness retreat brought a deep, delighted dark smile to my face.
These people will fear me one day.
Now, where is the inner circle?
I spotted a lone figure hurrying along the street. "Hey, you," I demanded, my voice cutting through the night. "Where can I find the Kuromuno-kai?"
The bypasser flinched, then spoke in a trembling voice, pointing a shaky finger down the road. "Y-you can find them a few blocks away." He gestured toward a massive, menacing stone building that seemed to stretch through most of the area just beyond the perceived 'inner circle.'
I didn't acknowledge him further, simply walking away with purpose toward the direction he had indicated.
When I finally reached the forbidding structure, a sudden, cold pressure pressed against the back of my neck. I stopped instantly, recognizing the unmistakable feel of a gun barrel.
"Who are you and what do you want?" A deep, rumbling voice spoke directly behind me—it belonged to someone huge, clearly intimidating, and taking his job seriously.
"I came to see the handler of the Kuromuno-kai," I stated, my voice calm, perfectly even, and utterly determined, betraying none of the slight adrenaline spike from the gun.
"What business do you have with him?" The man behind me stressed the question, and I heard the chilling, distinct sound of the man loading a round into the chamber—a loud crack.
"I have a delivery for him," I replied, keeping my focus forward. "He's expecting me."
After a tense pause, the pressure lifted. He lowered the weapon. "Go ahead."
Without so much as a glance back at the guard, I entered the building. It was a brute, minimalist structure of concrete, stark and unwelcoming, with almost no light, decoration, or furniture. The vast inner hall seemed to swallow what little light managed to enter completely.
I paused at the entrance. Soon, a relatively short, stout, bald man with intensely black eyes and a thin mustache emerged from the darkness. His slow, confident steps were intimidating. He exuded an aura suggesting he'd just conducted a violent interrogation. His sharp, intelligent, assessing eyes struck me most.
He stopped directly in front of me and his gaze dropped to the small, wiggling curse I held. Then, a slow, predatory smile formed on his lips.
"You managed to catch that on your own?" He nodded toward the wraith, his voice carrying a genuine note of impressed surprise.
"How much do you give for it?" I countered, cutting straight to business. My voice was strict, impatient, and firmly demanding—I wasn't here to chitchat.
He smiled again, obviously amused by my sheer boldness and lack of courtesy. "Come, we'll settle the payment in my office. Bring the thing with you."
I followed him down a short, dark corridor into a small room lit only by a tiny, weak desk lamp.
"Put it in that cage over there," he instructed, pointing toward a small, reinforced cage in the corner of the room, without looking up from the stack of papers that looked like illicit paperwork.
"This should cover your efforts," he said moments later, handing a thick handful of cash over to me, his eyes still fixed on the documents on the desk.
I snatched the cash, tucking it away, and turned, ready to leave.
"You are not from around here, are ya?" he said, his voice stopping me mid-step. "What is your business exactly?"
I allowed a final, confident smile to play on my lips, not turning back to face him.
"I am here to be feared," I stated simply, letting the words hang in the dim, stale air.
Then I walked out.
The handler said nothing in response, only watched me go. He, too, had recognized what everyone in this city would one day understand: I was not to be messed with.
Stepping back out into the night air, I stopped and looked up at the vast, intimidating structure of the Kuromuno-kai headquarters, then turned my gaze to the dark expanse of the city.
"Now, onto the next job. I need something big."