Chapter Seventeen: If You Want to Get Rich, Robbery Is One Way

In the shadowy underworld, the concepts of day and night lose all meaning. The creatures below have no need to distinguish between the two; here, time slips away unnoticed. Each race keeps its own reckoning, so while you sleep, some other beings may just be beginning their journeys...

Like now.

A deafening explosion shattered the darkness, an incandescent flash illuminating the cavern. Scorching heat tore through the heavy leather armor worn by the minotaur mercenary, mercilessly piercing its heart. In the next instant, the massive body was hurled against the stone wall, swept along by a roaring gust, and slid lifeless to the ground.

Jann lowered his hand, blowing away the tendrils of smoke from his fingertips in the manner of a western gunslinger. He then turned to look at the goblin merchant, now collapsed beside a subterranean lizard—pale and trembling in terror.

"Let’s not waste words, merchant. Surrender everything of value you carry, and I won’t kill you."

"R-really?"

The goblin’s eyes widened, relief flickering across his face. Little wonder—he and his caravan had been resting in the cave when, with no warning, a thunderous blast erupted. Before he could even comprehend what was happening, his caravan was struck by a relentless magical assault. Flames and lightning scattered his proud warriors, and the sudden appearance of a banshee and a half-orc left him petrified. Stone above, what wretched luck!

But now was no time to ponder fortune; the cold corpses and warm blood surrounding him served as chilling reminders. If he failed to make a wise choice, he would soon join these rotting heaps.

"Is it... really true?"

"Of course. I swear by the bottomless Abyss."

At Jann’s reply, the merchant steadied himself, casting a fearful glance his way. He hurriedly reached into his clothes with his short arms, rummaging frantically. Soon, two or three small pouches appeared before Jann, heavy with gems and gold. The golden glow reflected from their depths was enough to blind any greedy soul.

"This... this is all I have, respected mage..."

He lifted his head, cautiously peering at the black-robed wizard.

"You must know, we’re bound for Black Onyx City—there..."

"No need to explain, I understand."

Before the goblin could finish, Jann waved his hand, cutting him off. His tone was gentle, almost sincere.

"My apologies for the trouble we've caused. Rest assured, we have principles. Now, you may go."

"Truly?"

The goblin’s eyes shone with hope as he rose shakily, bowing in panic before Jann.

"Then... then I’ll take my leave. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone—"

He never finished. Suddenly, Enoya appeared behind him like a wraith, her hand seizing his oversized head. A sharp crack rang out as she twisted it a full one hundred eighty degrees. Blood sprayed, and the goblin collapsed, his comically contorted face still bearing traces of relief and joy.

But alas, it was only an illusion.

Jann shrugged at the outcome, saying nothing. He turned and made a gesture; from the depths of the tunnel, the chatter of goblins echoed. They scampered on their stubby legs, hopping up onto the docile subterranean lizards—creatures undisturbed even by the fierce battle—beating them with wooden sticks. Responding to the thumping, the lizards slowly rose and lumbered down the narrow path.

"Despicable."

Vilna, witnessing it all, snorted in disdain, one hand resting on her sword hilt as she stared at the black-robed mage. Ever since she awoke and was captured by Jann, Vilna knew her fate was sealed. She was mentally prepared; in the underworld, it was kill or be killed. Vilna had considered stabbing Jann during the fight, so his duplicity was no surprise.

But even Vilna couldn’t fathom what went on in the necromancer’s mind. He’d left her in Blackstone Tower under the pretense of guarding it (truthfully, Jann’s dungeon system required a unit stationed in every building to function). Vilna thought it a test, bracing herself for torture and interrogation.

Yet, before long, the necromancer dragged her out of the city—and not just that, he was committing highway robbery!

Vilna felt her worldview crumbling. There were mages in the dark elf cities, but most were dignified, elegant, sometimes even haughty. In Vilna’s eyes, a proper mage should be cloistered in their tower, never venturing out, always immersed in mysterious research and wielding terrifying power—Jann had once fit that mold.

But now, who was this bandit ambushing caravans?

Stone above, Vilna had never seen a mage stoop to such acts! Not that mages had never taken part in such schemes—Vilna had often cooperated with them—but they usually played the “brains” behind the scenes, while mercenaries like her led the charge. When had she ever seen a mage roll up his sleeves and say, “Brother, pay up and we’ll talk”?

If not for the lingering sparks of magic on Jann’s fingertips, Vilna might have mistaken him for a lizardman.

And to make matters worse, he’d broken his word right in front of her—promising release, then slaying the merchant. Vilna found it utterly distasteful.

"Despicable?"

Jann merely chuckled at Vilna’s remark, lifting his head leisurely to meet her gaze. He’d brought the dark elf along for several days now. She obeyed every command perfectly, but never spoke, as if she were one of the undead mercenaries he’d converted.

He’d even suspected she’d been traumatized into muteness—a trait borrowed from some melodramatic tale.

"By the Abyss, Miss Vilna, I have never broken my oath."

"Is that so?"

Vilna showed not a shred of respect for her ostensible master. She lifted her chin arrogantly—in dark elf society, explaining oneself was a sign of weakness. Jann’s humility, whatever its motive, was to her a display of submission, so she became even more aloof.

"Didn’t you say that if the goblin handed over all his valuables, you’d let him go?"

"Certainly."

Jann smiled and nodded.

"But unfortunately, he withheld the most important thing of all—something right before everyone’s eyes."

"Oh?"

Vilna was taken aback. Was there some treasure the goblin concealed? That couldn’t be—she’d watched their exchange closely; if the merchant had hidden anything, she’d have noticed.

Especially since Jann emphasized it was “right before everyone’s eyes.”

But this time, Jann didn’t let her guess for long.

"Simple—his life. Tell me, Miss Vilna, is there anything more valuable than life?"

"..."

Vilna’s expression darkened. She hadn’t expected Jann to be so shameless—but upon reflection, he wasn’t entirely wrong. Still, would she concede so easily?

"Perhaps he didn’t value his life at all. Plenty in the underworld care more for gold than their own skin."

"That doesn’t matter."

Jann spread his hands, feigning boredom.

"If it’s a worthless life, then what difference does it make? Besides..." He glanced meaningfully at Vilna. "I didn’t kill him."

Vilna paused, then understood. Indeed, when Jann promised the goblin safe passage, he swore that “he himself” wouldn’t harm him. Someone else doing the deed was outside his promise—and before Enoya struck, Jann had given no signal. He’d perfectly upheld his oath, hadn’t he?

"What a cunning fellow. If you were a dark elf, you’d surely become the matron’s favored consort in no time."

Vilna bit her lip, unable to resist a sarcastic jab, but Jann remained unmoved.

"To hear such praise from a dark elf is a great honor."

"You—!"

For a moment, Vilna longed to draw her rapier and run the infuriating mage through. But seeing Enoya, she restrained herself. Her gaze flickered between the banshee and Jann, then she stamped her foot and turned away.

"Do as you please. But mark my words—the caravan was bound for Black Onyx City! That’s not some hole like Brandon Stone City! If you’re not afraid of your lair being razed, go ahead and cause trouble!"

Vilna’s silhouette vanished into the darkness. Jann said nothing, but a cold gleam flashed in his eyes.

He hoped they would come...