A Black Market LitRPG

Chapter 30: Secret War

“The Red Lions took our shipment?” A burly, tanned man covered in tattoos grunted, staring down from his chair at the man kneeling in front of him, who was bruised and bleeding. “Captain, this is not an easy conclusion to make. Are you absolutely sure?”

“I-i-uhh, no, but all of the enforcers on our payroll are talking about us smuggling guns. I think the Red Lions leaked the information out to them so as to draw more heat to us.”

“It’s impossible for anyone to know about that shipment outside of us. Captain, you are one of the rare few who planned the route.”

“I told you it’s not me! I don’t think it’s any of us. I think it was a lucky hit-” The captain shook his head vigorously as the burly man stood up to his full height, towering over him.

“So you’re saying the Red Lions got it out of sheer luck? Am I hearing things right? Our proud Versia men were stumped by sheer luck?!” The burly man grabbed the captain by the head with one hand, a machete in the other, as he pressed the cold blade against the neck.

“We fix underground matches, casinos, races. We don’t do luck here, Captain. Now, speak slowly about every fact you have gathered.” The burly man let go of the captain, who coughed slightly and nodded vigorously.

“Yes, sir. Our shipment was ambushed in the Seven Snakes district, but nobody around knows about it except for the attackers and us.”

“And…?”

“Sir, that’s all we have…” The captain replied sheepishly with a bowed head.

“Then the course of action is clear. A visit to the Seven Snakes is in due.”

“For a talk, sir?”

The burly man chuckled, swirling a glass of wine as he leaned back into his chair. “Captain, you never negotiate when you’re on the losing end. If the Seven Snakes have our guns, they’ll instinctively know that they have the upper hand on us. Let’s show a bit of force first.”

“Sir, this would be a declaration of war, and we’re still fighting the Red Lions-“ The captain tried to continue speaking, but a machete’s blade was already lodged in the side of his neck, causing him to choke on his own blood. The burly man stood up again, squatting next to the squirming captain, who struggled to remove the machete from his neck in vain attempts.

“The Ilysian Punks have no need for cowards, Captain.” The burly man whispered to the dying captain before snapping his fingers. Two punks came into the office, staring at the captain bleeding out. “Dispose of the body. Throw it into the incinerator or feed it to the arena monsters.”

The two punks nodded immediately, getting to work and hauling the body away. A cleaner servant also quickly entered, moping up the blood. Nobody defied Makoa, who was a sub-leader in the gang.

“Oh, and set an appointment with my tattooist. I have another one to add now.”

Three days later…

The Seven Snakes bases were now fully relocated, spread out into seven different areas with the old place being abandoned. Kyle was still teaching how to engrave, moving between safe houses and fixing irregularities in the etching.

Just as he was done teaching two of the members how to engrave a cooling enchantment onto the handle, Adrian burst into the room, panting. “Sir, the scouts have spotted the Ilysian Punks heading right for us.”

“How many?”

“About a dozen of them, all armed with melee weapons.”

“Earlier than I expected – gather a dozen rookie associates and meet me at the food market. Time for some training.” Kyle smirked. So the Ilysian Punks have decided to start a war instead of negotiating.

At the food market, screams and shouts filled the air instead of the usual hustle and bustle. “Get this shit out of here!” An Ilysian Punk flipped the food stall, smashing the kitchen and scaring the customers around. “This district is soon going to be run by us! Not the Seven Snakes!”

The Ilysian Punks were already at large, sending their lowest rung to mess up the area. They targeted the food market, going through and messing up each of the stalls.

“That’s right, boys, break everything in here! The snakes ain’t got no balls to defend their own turf.” The leader of the punks laughed as they trashed the place. Some of the punks grabbed food and stuffed it into their mouths, while others set fire to crates.

Just as the leader was about to order some more, a group of men appeared at the end of the street, numbering a dozen. At the head of them was a man dressed in a formal suit, his right arm protected by a weird green vambrace. On his right hand, he held an ornate crossbow, loaded with bolts, as he strutted towards them, the members behind him showing a dominant figure.

“Oh? The boss comes out to play? Acting all strong because you won against a measly Left Paw? SHOW THEM WHAT WE’RE MADE OF!” The leader ordered.

The punks cheered and charged them with pipes and crowbars, running in from all directions. Kyle simply snapped the fingers on his left hand, prompting the members behind to chug a quick Strength Potion before meeting the charge head-on.

The residents ducked for cover as a massive melee brawl broke out right in the food market. Even the local enforcers did not dare get involved in the brawl, knowing they very well might be killed by the crossfire. “Just let the Seven Snakes handle this; let’s get out of here!”

The Seven Snakes fighters tried to fend off the punks, but it was clear that they were far out scaled. Despite the punks’ attitude, it was clear they were all battle-hardened through multiple wars with nearby gangs, unlike the rookie associates from the Seven Snakes.

Outmatched in every way, the Seven Snakes fighters began to lose ground, slowly getting injured. The punks had no qualms about killing them, but just as one of them was about to deal the final blow, Kyle intervened, shooting three bolts into the chest of the punk. “Get up!”

The Seven Snakes member quickly scrambled to his feet, retrieving a health potion from his belt and drinking it, recovering his wounds. The leader of the punks was irked when he saw this. He knew that the Seven Snakes were well-equipped with potions, but he did not expect even their rookie fighters to be that well-treated.

“Take down the boss first!” He yelled to the punks, prompting three of them to aim the crossbows, shooting at Kyle, who activated his armguard and blocked the projectiles.

The fight continued on, with the leader continuously trying to kill Kyle and his fighters, but they were like cockroaches, healing just when they were in danger. It was as though Kyle was keeping them on edge and using the punks as training. Already a few of his men were injured despite being stronger, a sign that their stamina was running out.

“Fuck, retreat! Don’t think you’ve seen the last of us!” The punks fell back, running off out of the food market. The food market was left in ruins, all the stalls beaten back.

“Get every other free member out here to fix up the market. Tell Keith to pay all the stall owners back.” Kyle ordered, much to the gratitude of the locals. It felt as though the Seven Snakes had everything under control with Kyle in the reins, so the trust among the locals was not shaken.

However, Kyle was not happy. He knew that the Ilysian Punks was simply probing for the guns. Their shipment had been attacked here, after all. It was no surprise that the Ilysian Punks would try to test and see if they were dumb enough to show the guns off. Kyle wasn’t about to let his associates use the guns so blatantly.

As dangerous as it was, Kyle believed he had found a way where he could finally come out on top and overtake the Ardent Cretins using the military shipment However, it was a long plan and required him to buy time. Kyle knew his plan would be feasible in the Galactic Era, but whether it could work here was something else.

Back at a new office, Damian was visibly jittery, immediately jumping up to meet Kyle the moment he returned. “Kyle, I’ve been listening in on the enforcers so far. It’s even worse than we expected Nearly every enforcer is up and about, searching the original factory. For now, they don’t know that the guns were hijacked a second time, so they are swarming that district.”

“And that district is owned by?”

“The Wretches, sir. Not on good terms with the Ilysian Punks. They probably think that it was either the Red Lions or the Ilysian Punks who turned the heat up on them, seeing as they are still in a state of war.” Damian frantically explained.

“You seem to have something to say.”

“Sir, I truly believe that keeping all the guns on us is a death sentence. All it takes is for one rumour to spread and trigger an enforcer raid on us.”

Kyle pondered, considering Damian’s opinion. To be honest, I don’t need to hold onto every military crate, seeing as I can simply just reverse engineer them…

“I understand, Damian.” Kyle tapped the map of the sector, smiling to himself as he figured out a plan. “Dump all military equipment except for two sets into the districts I point out here. Make sure they are in a slightly visible location but don’t get spotted. Mask it with food or other items first. I want the gangs to discover them.”

“You want to frame all of them and spark some chaos with the guns.” Damian nodded.

“Exactly. We’ll have one set in a crate here in our district as well just to avoid suspicion. We’ll turn the crate into the enforcers as soon as word gets out to buy some goodwill. We keep the remaining set for our own purposes.” Kyle pointed to the Ilysian Punks-controlled districts, aiming at the closest adjacent district.

After explaining the plan further to Damian, he soon focused back on figuring out how to push forward his new plan to manufacture the handguns. It was clear that he had to present some improvements over the current flintlock or muzzle-loaded pistols, but he needed to tailor the expectation slightly lower.

The five engravings that he had added into his upgraded version of the pistol were to make it far more efficient, so much so that even the average human with a bit of arcia energy would be able to fire it up to three times.

Kyle was not particularly proficient in arctech engravings, but he could immediately see issues in the flow of energy and wasteful conversion using his former life’s knowledge. The engravings he had chosen would help to reduce the heat generated, as well as improve accuracy and control the recoil. It’ll be a revolution in guns, and I’ll be at the head of it.

He already had a few prototype parts collected from the associates. He ensured that none of the associates knew more than one engraving each, preventing his recipe from spilling out. However, if he truly wanted to mass produce it, he needed to enlist the help of a factory or two. He began to plan for a few ways in which he could start to dig his hooks into the factory workers. Niko should probably have an idea.

He assembled a prototype pistol, the glossy raw metal surface glistening under the arctech light of the office. Just as he finished putting the different parts together, a new system message popped up.