What the hell is with this girl...? Batil wondered.
Who was this human woman, pointing a blade at him?
It had all begun with a request from one of the Kiluri executives.
The four factions that ruled Cutlass kept one another in check but weren’t hostile toward one another. They’d divided the territory according to their specialties. Living here required some compromise, besides which they couldn’t afford to show weakness before the Kal’Faan Empire or the Demonic Nation of Dais, both of which saw the town as a potential military base.
Cutlass belonged to the children of the desert. They refused to cede an inch of it to any outsider, and thus the delicate balance of power was maintained.
Recently, the head of the Kiluri’s Pharmacy Division had requested the capture of a young female alchemist and her guard. Though the Kiluri had their own hired hands for dirty work, if that particular executive had mobilized them, word would have gotten out and profits could have been lost. Not only that, but even from the amateur executive’s perspective, the guard was abnormally skilled.
Truly monstrous people of Rank 5 were rarely seen, but Rank 4 warriors could be found by the dozen in this town of tens of thousands. Not even a Rank 5 opponent would stand a chance against the Munza pack. Still, Batil had foreseen considerable casualties and demanded dozens of large gold coins as payment—and the Kiluri man had agreed.
The women were likely worth far more than that, Batil figured. The Kiluri made it a habit to kidnap skilled traveling alchemists and keep them drugged. Moreover, the alchemist was Mercenian and beautiful—a rarity in this area and worth dozens of large gold in its own right. There was no doubt this was a lucrative investment.
But Batil hadn’t liked that the Kiluri executive had remained tight-lipped about his golden goose, pushing only the dangerous part of the job onto the Munza. He’d wondered for a moment what to do, then settled on simply stealing the prize.
If these two were worth extraordinary amounts of gold, they could keep the alchemist captive and force her to make potions. If she looked good on top of it, they could eventually sell her off to the Kiluri elders, even if that caused friction between Batil and the Pharmacy Department’s leader.
Besides, Batil’s impression had been that the executive felt humiliated by these women and wanted to bring them low more than he wanted profit. As long as the capture was successful, surely Batil keeping one of them wouldn’t be that bad for their professional relationship. Plus, the Munza dealt in brute force, while the Kiluri dealt in food and daily necessities—they weren’t in direct competition. A simple dispute between two higher-ups wouldn’t lead to all-out war between the organizations as a whole.
The Munza had captured one of the kids the alchemist woman had allegedly healed with medicine. The plan had been to use that kid as leverage to bring in the two women, but that guard had killed two of his men, broken the third’s limbs, and boldly marched up to their front door.
Opposing the Munza was lunacy, but Batil appreciated the woman’s guts.
Still, she was ultimately soft at heart and wouldn’t leave the hostage to die. That had been his mindset when he’d ordered his Rank 2 and 3 subordinates to beat her down and bring her to him.
They’d been killed in seconds instead.
He’d understood then that this woman was dangerous. Even a member of the Munza, which counted rabid dogs among its ranks, could tell this woman was not to be trifled with.
Then she’d leaped into Batil’s two-hundred-strong pack without hesitation, coldly killing everyone who stood in her way. There had been a certain beauty to it, he had to admit. It was moving, even, that a young human woman could become this strong.
Batil wondered if he could do the same.
The pink-haired woman was on the upper end of Rank 4. Though he was the same rank, her overall combat power probably exceeded his own. But that difference, he figured, came down to aether points. More aether meant more sustained combat ability and more combat techniques at one’s disposal. Batil was likely superior in health points, muscle strength, and endurance. In direct confrontation, he’d have the upper hand.
Batil couldn’t fight two hundred people, but dueling one was another matter.
He didn’t recognize the power she’d used to defeat the Fang Brothers, but nevertheless, he couldn’t afford to let someone this dangerous leave with impunity. She’d killed over a hundred of his people. His reputation would be in shambles.
Besides, she was taking from him. He couldn’t let her live.
Batil had grown up in the garbage dump of the slums, collecting other beastman urchins like him. Stealing had been his domain for as long as he could remember. He’d lost many packmates, gained many more, and through sheer brute force had become one of the bosses of the Munza gang.
And now this one woman had slaughtered his pack.
No one stole from him. His title, his pack—they were all his. And this little bastard was trying to take them away?
Batil’s heart, like black oil catching fire on the desert sands, was ablaze with fury.
“You little shit,” he hissed. “I’ll tear out your damned guts!!!”