Inside a sprawling black market, voices overlapped in a rough, chaotic chorus.
Shady stalls and crooked shops lined both sides of a narrow street, selling everything from illegal artifacts to stolen weapons.
Hooded figures bartered in hushed tones, exchanging creds, essence stones, and favors that could get a man killed.
A boy wearing a hood stepped through the crowd, keeping his head low.
He stopped in front of a run-down shop wedged between two louder stalls. From the outside, it looked half-abandoned—cracked signboard, peeling paint, and a dirty glass window.
But inside, rows of cars were tightly packed, from shining new models to rusting relics that had seen better centuries.
As the boy reached the door, two bulky security guards blocked his path.
They crossed their arms.
"Show your face," one said. "And state your purpose."
In a low voice, the boy replied,
"Go tell your boss I have a luxury for him at the right price. Something he won't get anywhere else."
The two bouncers exchanged a glance.
Without another word, one of them slipped inside.
A few minutes later, they returned.
"The boss is calling for you," one of them said.
They led the hooded boy through the cluttered shop into a narrow hallway, then into a surprisingly neat office at the back.
Behind a desk, a man in his thirties with maroon hair lounged in a leather chair. His eyes were sharp and calculating, his smile thin.
"Alright, lad," he said. "Show me what you have."
The boy flicked his wrist.
A set of car keys landed on the desk in front of the man.
"I'll take three hundred thousand creds for the Bentley," the boy said calmly.
The man chuckled.
"Looks like you're new here," he said. "So you don't know how things work. I can sense you're also G-rank."
He spun the keys between his fingers.
"The car you have is probably stolen. And if it belongs to someone powerful, we're gonna be in deep shit. So how about I set the price at a hundred thousand creds?"
The boy's eyes narrowed under the hood.
"Two hundred fifty thousand," he said flatly.
"One hundred fifty thousand," the man countered.
"Two hundred thousand," the boy replied. "And you help me get out of this nation. You pay for my transport costs. It won't cost you more than five thousand creds."
His gaze hardened.
"And that car is worth at least five hundred thousand. So take it or leave it."
The man stared at him for a moment.
Then he smiled.
"Deal," he said. "My name is Jerry."
The boy nodded.
"My name is Arthur," he paused.
"Just Arthur."
"The car is standing just two blocks away from here."
Jerry's smile twisted into something darker.
"Okay… now that I know the location of the car and that it's stolen," he said softly, "what exactly will you be able to do if I kill you right here and take the car?"
He leaned forward.
"It'll cost me nothing."
Arthur raised his hand.
A small remote rested in his palm.
"This remote," Arthur said calmly, "will blow up the car the moment I press it."
He tilted his head.
"I also have one implanted in me. We both die together."
A bead of sweat slid down Jerry's neck.
He swallowed hard, staring at the remote.
'What a crazy kid… but he's got guts. He understands survival.'
Jerry forced a laugh.
"I was just joking," he said quickly. "Don't take it seriously, okay? Put the remote away."
Arthur smirked slightly.
He lowered his hood.
A handsome boy's face emerged—sharp features, dark hair, and striking blood-red eyes that seemed to glow faintly in the dim light.
Jerry let out a low whistle.
"What are you doing in this kind of business?" Jerry asked. "With a face like that, you could work as a model, boy."
"That doesn't concern you," Arthur said. "Give me the money."
He added,
"And I need the payment in essence stones. I don't have an untrackable account right now."
"Okay, okay, as you wish," Jerry said, raising his hands.
He opened a safe and pulled out several small pouches.
He spilled them onto the table.
Dozens of beautiful blue essence stones clinked softly together, each one glowing with a faint inner light.
Arthur swept them into his storage ring.
"Pleasure doing business with you," he said.
Jerry sighed.
"Alright… but from your appearance, you're not from some big family, right?" he asked. "And this car of yours—it won't cause me trouble?"
Arthur's expression didn't change.
"I'm an orphan," he said. "Always was."
He shrugged.
"And don't worry. This car belonged to a useless, fucking weakling with no balls… who has many more like that Bentley. I just stole one."
A dry voice echoed in his head.
[You do realize you're talking about the world's most feared man, right? The one no one wants to mess with.]
'So what,' Arthur thought. 'I'm just returning him his car, like a good and abandoned son. Don't judge me.'
[You do know this Jerry guy is going to get destroyed by your family for having that car because you scammed him.]
"Such rude words," Arthur muttered in his mind. "Scamming? He buys stolen cars, and I just happen to have one by coincidence."
[By coincidence.]
"Yes. By coincidence.
And by the way, let me remind you—we need money to survive. I don't have much to even live on. I don't even have an apartment. The only thing I bought from the estate was some explosives."
[Go for it, host. I am with you. Which bastard called you a scammer? I will eat his brains. (^_^)]
Arthur smiled.
'Now you know what's at stake. You changed your tone, huh? And how is that scamming? Just a few moments ago this bastard was threatening to kill me, and I could tell he wasn't joking. So we're both even now.'
[Of course you are right.]
'OF COURSE I AM. NOW SHUT THE HELL UP.'
"I just know how to do business," he murmured under his breath.
Jerry stood up.
"Come with me, Mr. Arthur," he said. "Usually, I'd have to call my friends to transport you out of here."
He grinned.
"Luckily for you, I recently went to a slave auction and found an interesting kid who can open portals to wherever you want."
Arthur's eyes narrowed.
Jerry led him down a creaky staircase into a run-down basement.
The air was damp and smelled of rust and sweat.
In the corner, behind thick iron bars, a boy around Arthur's age sat curled up on the cold floor.
He had striking blue hair that fell messily over his forehead and dull brown eyes that flinched at every sound. His clothes were torn, stained with dirt and blood. Bruises covered his arms and legs, some fresh, some old.
As Arthur's gaze landed on him, the boy jerked.
"S-Scared… no… please don't hit me…" he stammered. "I'll do as you say… please…"
Jerry stepped forward and slapped him hard across the face.
"You piece of shit," Jerry snapped. "I have work for you, so earn your keep. Take this customer to wherever he wants."
The boy nodded rapidly, trembling.
He raised his head hesitantly.
His eyes met Arthur's glowing, simmering red ones.
"W-Where do you want to go, sir?" the boy asked in a small voice.
Arthur glanced at Jerry.
Realization flickered across Jerry's face.
"Oh my, how rude of me," he said, stepping back. "I'll leave you to it. You can tell him in private."
As he turned to go, he spoke to a nearby guard.
"Keep an eye on him," Jerry said. "I have a sneaking suspicion he belongs to a big family, so I don't want any trouble. He's a G-ranker anyway—break his legs if he tries something funny."
The guard nodded.
Jerry walked away.
Arthur turned back to the boy in the cell.
"Oy, trash," Arthur said calmly. "Open a portal to the country Arcania. You know where it is, right?"
"Y-Yes, sir," the boy stammered. "My master made me remember all the country coordinates…"
"Arcania is a powerful, magic-centric nation ruled by democracy rather than bloodlines and families. No kings or noble dynasties sit on the throne there. Instead, a Grand Council of elected representatives from each region and magical order governs the country."
"Precisely," Arthur said. "Now do it."
The boy swallowed.
He raised his hands, blue hair falling over his eyes as he focused.
Within seconds, the air in front of the cell shimmered and twisted.
A glowing oval rip opened, swirling with faint light—a portal.
Arthur smiled.
"Good work," he said.
He turned to the guard walking toward him.
"Hey, mister," Arthur called. "Here, take some money as a tip for your troubles."
He tossed a small pouch toward him.
The guard caught it, smiling.
"Thank you, sir," he said.
He opened the pouch.
Boom!
The pouch exploded, releasing a wave of force and thick smoke that swallowed the basement.
Red alarms blared to life above them, shrill and urgent.
Arthur kicked the terrified blue-haired boy's ass as he shoved him through the portal.
He dove through after him.
The boy was stunned beyond belief, not understanding what was happening until a slap landed across his left cheek from Arthur.
"What are you looking at? Close it!"
The boy snapped out of it.
He focused, hands trembling, and the portal snapped shut just as smoke flooded the spot where they had been.
On the other side, Arthur's legs shook slightly.
He let out a shaky breath.
'If I made a single mistake, that guy would've killed me right there…'
The blue-haired boy was still staring at him with wide, fearful eyes.
"Seriously, do you want another slap? One was not enough?" Arthur said.
"I-I'm sorry," the boy replied quickly.
"You should be," Arthur said. "I risked my life for your sorry ass."
As Arthur said in his mind, 'See, System, I am not a villain and I also don't look like one, definitely not.'
As if seeing the blue haired boy terrified just by meeting arthur's eyes.
The System replied, [I highly doubt that.]
-----
Meanwhile, back in Jerry's shop—
Alarms continued to blare, red lights flashing wildly.
Jerry ran down toward the basement.
His eyes widened.
The cell was open.
The boy was gone.
The guard lay on the ground, body limp.
"H-He… he tricked me…" the guard stammered weakly, blood on his lips.
Jerry's face twisted.
In a single brutal punch, he smashed the guard's face in.
Bone cracked.
The man died instantly.
"Damn it," Jerry snarled. "I knew that boy was suspicious."
Before he could calm down, several of his men rushed in.
"Boss!" one shouted. "The Imperius forces are wreaking havoc in the black market—destroying everything!"
The door to his shop suddenly burst open.
Soldiers poured in, armor dark and heavy, weapons at the ready. Power radiated from their bodies—dense, suffocating. Every one of them was at least D-rank, their presence enough to make ordinary people faint.
And at their center stood Arina Evan Imperius.
Arthur's little sister.
Power pulsed around her like a living flame. Her hair shimmered with a faint glow, and her amber eyes burned with intensity. Her aura was sharper than the others', focused, honed, with the raw pressure of someone with S-grade talent and terrifying potential.
"So that weakling came here, huh…" Arina muttered.
A soldier stepped forward and bowed.
"My lady, we have recovered the stolen Bentley," he reported.
A smile bloomed across Arina's face.
"Yes," she said happily. "Father will praise me. And I did it faster than Lucas."
Jerry's blood ran cold.
'Stolen car… Imperius forces…'
"Did that stolen car belong to the Imperius family…?" he whispered.
Arina's gaze fell on him.
His knees buckled under the weight of her presence.
He collapsed backward against the wall.
"How dare you take something that belongs to us?" Arina said coldly.
"L-Lady Arina, I never knew the car belonged to you!" Jerry shouted. "I swear!"
"Alright," Arina said. "Where is Arthur?"
"I-I don't know," Jerry said quickly. "He already left for another country."
Arina's eyes narrowed.
"Which one?" she asked.
"I don't know, but if you let me go, I will find him for you," Jerry blurted.
Arina's eyes turned colder.
"Never mind," she said. "We have nothing to do with him anymore anyway."
She flicked her fingers.
"Take him to the torture chamber," Arina ordered. "Punish him thoroughly."
Two guards seized Jerry by the arms.
"W-Wait! Lady Arina, please!" Jerry shouted. "I can be useful to you! I can find him! I swear I can—"
His words were ignored.
He struggled helplessly as they dragged him away.
"Arthur, you scamming bastard!" he screamed one last time.
The guards hauled him out of sight.
Later—
Arina walked through a narrow alley behind the market.
There, parked neatly between two buildings, was the Bentley.
Its black body gleamed under the dim light, sleek and elegant. The chrome trim shone, and the leather interior visible through the window looked untouched—luxury wrapped in steel.
Arina ran her hand gently along the hood.
A genuine smile curved her lips.
"Father will be happy to find out I was the one who brought back his favorite car," she said.
Then—
A faint red light began to blink on the hood.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
"Miss, get away from the car!" a soldier shouted, sprinting toward her.
BOOM!
The Bentley exploded in a massive fireball.
Shockwaves blasted down the alley, shattering windows and sending debris flying. Soldiers threw themselves forward, barriers flaring as they shielded Arina with their bodies.
When the dust finally settled, the alley was scorched black.
The soldiers were battered but standing.
Arina's face was blackened with soot, her hair slightly singed at the ends.
Her eye twitched.
She clenched her fists.
"My dear brother…you better run far away because if I get my hands on you"
she growled through gritted teeth yelling.
"You're dead....you bastard."
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A/N : -
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