Chapter 2

In the Underground City of Artman, even the mornings are colored with twilight. The dawn in Artman, where the sun never rises, is illuminated not by sunlight, but by lamps fueled by ores, casting a twilight glow. Thus, Artman is always bathed in the light of dusk. Those who have forgotten the light of the sun reminisce about it through the artificial twilight of the ore lamps.

Of course, this story doesn't apply to the boy currently strolling the streets. Born in the Underground City and having never experienced the outside world, the boy had never seen the sun.

“A letter for you.”

Early in the morning, on a street dyed with twilight, Najin, dressed as a postman, was knocking on the door of a tavern. Although a postman's virtue is to leave the letter if there's no answer, the boy persistently knocked on the tavern's door.

"Damn it, who is it!"

Unable to bear it anymore, a man opened the door. He grabbed the postman standing in front of the door by the scruff and lifted him up.

"Hey kid, you could have just left it. Why are you being so dumb...?"

The man's words trailed off.

The boy he had grabbed by the scruff, Najin, slightly lifted his postman's cap, revealing his face.

The moment the man locked eyes with Najin, his face stiffened.

"Kabin."

Najin called the man by his name.

Looking at Kabin, the boy smiled.

"Is Tricksy inside?"

"Why do you want Tricksy?"

"A letter from Ivan. It's for Tricksy."

"..."

Kabin silently shifted his gaze inside the tavern. After briefly exchanging looks with his brother sitting there, Kabin let out a long sigh and released Najin's scruff.

"My brother says to come in."

"Oh. Do you have something to drink? I'm kind of thirsty."

"..."

Though clicking his tongue, Kabin headed to the kitchen. As he went to fetch water, Najin casually walked into the tavern. The tavern was filled with men, each with a blade at their waist.

Roughly seven or eight.

Despite receiving sharp glances from all of them, Najin leisurely made his way to the center of the tavern and flopped down on the sofa which was for customers.

"This sofa is nice. Tricksy."

"It's a luxury item, cost a pretty penny."

Responding to Najin's mutter was a middle-aged man sitting opposite him. Tricksy, the man known by that name, swirled his drink and narrowed his eyes.

"So, what's up, Najin?"

"I told you, Tricksy."

Najin reached into his coat. At that moment, the men glaring at Najin twitched, their hands moving toward their waists. Watching them, Najin smirked.

"A letter from Ivan."

What he pulled out from his coat was a letter.

Showing the letter in his hand as if to ease their tension, Najin continued, but the wariness did not fade. Everyone in the room knew that the boy, despite wearing a postman's disguise, was not a postman.

The Underground City, Artman.

Governed by three powerful figures in a city almost lawless, one of them was a man called One-eyed Ivan. And the boy in front of them was a figure well-known to anyone in Ivan's family.

"Tricksy."

Tricksy, also a member of Ivan's organization, knew well what kind of person the boy who so casually uttered Ivan's name was.

"I told you to keep it low-key."

Ivan's right-hand man.

"This time, you went too far."

The organization's collector.

"Using kids to harvest organs for sale? You know that's crossing the line, especially when Ivan hates it the most."

The enforcer in the guise of a postman.

Ivan's hound.

The boy known as Najin sighed and tapped his fingers on the table. Watching him, Tricksy clicked his tongue.

'This insolent brat...'

He was a well-known merchant in these parts, not as much as Ivan but still with a high rank in the organization. He couldn't harbor good feelings towards the boy who treated him so disrespectfully.

But he couldn't voice that.

This boy sat before him as Ivan's proxy, and he was someone with the skills to back it up.

Tricksy took a sip of his drink and spoke.

"So, what does Ivan want to say?"

"Should I read it for you?"

"That'd be good."

Tricksy gestured with his chin.

Najin unfolded the letter and cleared his throat.

"Tricksy."

Najin's lips moved.

"Your three chances are over."

An ultimatum.

"..."

Tricksy didn't need to hear the rest to know what it meant. With that sign, the men surrounding Najin drew their blades. Kabin, who had left under the pretext of fetching water, opened the back door of the tavern.

Creak.

The lamps hanging from the tavern's ceiling swayed precariously. Each flicker of the lamp's shadow was accompanied by a scream. Sounds of agony, frantic footsteps, and things being smashed echoed throughout.

“Aaaaargh!”

“That crazy bastard...!”

Blood spattered far and wide.

The splattered blood stained the tavern's tables, bottles, and windows a dark red. Amidst the vibrating stench of blood and screams, Tricksy’s eyes shook.

With every blink, one more fell.

Severed arms and legs lay messily around. Even with their limbs cut off, the men charging at Najin were met with his knees in their faces and jaws. Najin’s movement among the falling men was eerily smooth.

He slipped through the blades swung at him as if gliding. With a light step, Najin stomped down on a thug's knee.

Crack!

With a chilling sound, the thug’s knee bent backwards. Najin’s knee struck his face before the thug’s head hit the ground with a thud.

Slice.

An arm of another thug lunging at Najin flew through the air. Amidst the blood, Najin was seen swinging his sword. Right after, he lunged forward with a powerful kick.

His movements were bizarre.

Too fast.

The rumors of his monstrosity had seemed exaggerated, but they were understated. As more than half of the thugs lay defeated, Tricksy felt cold sweat running down his spine.

‘Crazy.’

Tricksy staggered backward.

There were thirteen. Thirteen of them. He had heard rumors about Najin being a monster, but he thought thirteen would be enough to handle him.

Half of them were skilled swordsmen sent by Land Spider Horace, accustomed to years of blade battles. Yet, they were falling in mere moments.

‘I was mistaken.’

He had to admit it now.

His calculations were wrong. The boy was more of a monster than he had thought. Tricksy turned and ran towards the door, but…

Click.

The door handle turned, but the door wouldn't open. The door, locked earlier to prevent intruders from escaping, now trapped the fleeing tavern owner.

“Damn it...!”

Tricksy cursed and fumbled at his waist for the key. Just as he was about to unlock the door.

Crash!

Something slammed next to Tricksy. He froze, then slowly turned his head. There lay his trusted henchman, Kabin, not one of Land Spider’s men. Kabin’s forehead was split, bleeding. Their eyes met in shock.

Tricksy slowly turned around. Standing there was Ivan's hound.

“If you run, it won’t just be you. Do I need to mention your son and wife by name?”

“You bastard...”

The one who had slammed Kabin’s head against the door. Najin, still holding Kabin’s head, looked at Tricksy with tired eyes. Tricksy’s gaze shifted beyond Najin’s shoulder.

“Ugh...”

“Guh...”

No one stood anymore.

But none were dead.

Lying around, moaning in pain, though crippled, they were all alive. Yet, Tricksy knew he wouldn’t be so fortunate.

The boy before him was Ivan's representative. And Ivan never spared the leaders.

Knowing death was imminent, Tricksy let out a hollow laugh. His legs gave out, and he slumped against the door.

“...”

Najin, looking down at Tricksy, yanked Kabin's hair. Kabin, with wood splinters embedded in his face, groaned. Najin tapped Kabin’s cheek with the back of his hand.

“Kabin.”

Facing the trembling Kabin, Najin spoke shortly.

“I said I was thirsty.”

Kabin nodded frantically.

As Najin released him, Kabin limped off, finally getting water from a corner of the tavern.

“Hoo...”

Najin sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair. He wiped his blood-stained face with his sleeve and crouched to meet Tricksy's eye level.

“Why cause unnecessary trouble? Tricksy, you weren’t known for poor calculations.”

“Huh, heh...”

Tricksy chuckled bitterly.

“Any sane person would think gathering thirteen would be enough to handle a brat like you.”

“Even if the opponent was Ivan?”

“That monster is an exception.”

“Then you should have made an exception for me too.”

Tricksy burst into laughter.

In the underground city of Artman, Ivan, the man who dominated it, was known for his prowess. He was a knight who once made a name for himself in the upper town, a true warrior among warriors, capable of manifesting sword aura unlike the ordinary. Tricksy, looking at the young Najin who boldly equated himself with such a powerful figure, couldn't help but laugh.

However, at the same time, Tricksy couldn't completely dismiss Najin's words. The boy in front of him had an extraordinary martial talent. Properly trained, he was clearly a genius with shining potential.

‘But...’

This was the underground city, Artman. Regardless of their talent, those abandoned or born here could never leave. Thus, talent in this city was nothing but a subject of mockery.

“Haha, Najin.”

Sensing his impending death, Tricksy chose to scorn instead of begging for his life. With a sneer, he opened his mouth, his jaw trembling.

“In this place, you will... ugh!”

His words were cut off as Najin’s sword pierced through Tricksy’s throat. Choking on his blood, Tricksy toppled to the side. The pool of blood spread across the tavern's floor.

As Tricksy's movements ceased, Najin finally pulled the sword from his neck.

“I know, Tricksy.”

Muttering so, Najin slowly stood up. Turning around, he saw Kabin, trembling, offering him a glass of water. Najin gestured to Kabin.

“Yes, yes...?”

“Take a sip.”

Kabin hastily drank the water. Despite being told to sip, he downed almost half the cup, making Najin frown. Seems like there was no poison in it.

“Thanks, Kabin.”

Najin snatched the cup before Kabin could finish it off. He sipped the remaining water and looked around.

“Clean this up by today. Ivan doesn’t seem to want this place closed... Just tidy up neatly and take over.”

“Me, sir?”

“That’s why I didn’t cut off your arm.”

Najin tapped Kabin's arm with the flat of his blade. Kabin’s eyes shook. He was the only one here with intact limbs.

“By ‘cleanup’, I mean everything, including the money made from nonsense and your dealings with Land Spider Horace. Don’t make me work twice, Kabin.”

Land Spider Horace.

Though Tricksy didn’t specify which side he was on, Najin seemed to know who it was. Kabin swallowed dryly and nodded.

“I'll remember that.”

“Please do.”

Najin, looking tired, stood up from his seat.

After he left the tavern, Kabin collapsed, feeling as if a storm had just passed through.