#Chapter 83
—
The red moon.
And the black sun.
Beneath a sky that defied the laws of nature, a city shrouded in darkness writhed.
“Oh…”
Arthur let out an exclamation as he reached a hand toward the heavens.
The burning black moon hovered just out of reach, scattering its lewd, sinister light.
From that eerie glow, Arthur instinctively understood.
*“It’s made of mana. Is it a barrier, like the magic outside?”*
If his assumption was correct, the mage behind it had quite an eccentric taste.
If one had the skill to create such a refined artificial moon, they could have just as easily made a real one—yet they chose *this* color.
At that moment, Willet muttered beside him.
“Still a disgusting city.”
Arthur turned to him.
“A disgusting city?”
“Don’t you feel it? That fake sky, the color of this place… everything about it unsettles you.”
Arthur stroked his chin at the explanation.
“Sounds like a pretty famous city, then.”
“It’s the underground city that opens only when this black market convenes. Folks in the back alleys call it ‘The Black Full Moon.’”
Arthur’s eyes widened.
*“An underground city?”*
Then… was this directly beneath Arcane?
Arthur let out a low murmur at this newly learned fact.
*“Fascinating… to think there’s a city like this under Arcane.”*
But at the same time, doubt crept in.
*“Why didn’t I know this? Could it be that ten years from now, it no longer exists?”*
Just then, Willet suddenly started walking. Arthur snapped out of thought and followed him.
Before long, the two stepped into the very heart of the city.
Voices buzzed around them.
The streets swarmed with people.
Sellers, buyers, brawlers, drunkards.
People of different clothes, skin colors, and languages shouted over one another.
It resembled the chaotic floor of a festival marketplace. Arthur watched the scene with interest.
More precisely, he was drawn to the goods laid out for sale.
*“There’s everything here.”*
Human corpses. The carcasses of unknown beasts. Even live animals.
Not only that, but there were ancient tomes, treasures, and a few swords on display.
As Willet had said, while not *every* item in existence was here, the market carried its share of rare goods.
At that moment, Willet pulled up the hood that hung over his shoulders and placed it over Arthur.
“Cover your face. Right now, it’d do you no good for people to recognize you, Donn.”
Arthur adjusted the hood properly and asked,
“Even though I’m hiding my face with an artifact, it’s not enough?”
“Someone here might have memorized even that blurred impression the artifact projects.”
Arthur let out a short laugh.
“Would anyone really go that far just to find me?”
“In this underworld, you can get stabbed even standing still. Better to be cautious.”
With that, Willet resumed walking. Arthur followed, though his eyes still roamed the bustling stalls.
“Ten gold.”
“Bullshit.”
“Seven gold.”
“Not a coin over five, you thieving bastard.”
Shouting turned into fists between a seller and buyer.
“Can you get more of these?”
“You’ll need to give me time. A week at least.”
“A week? Too long. Make it three days, and I’ll buy.”
People haggled in unknown tongues.
There was a certain charm in watching it all unfold.
And yet, for a black market said to be Arcane’s greatest, Arthur found it… lacking.
*“For one, it’s too small. Surely this isn’t all there is?”*
Among the items scattered about were flasks of blood and sharp blades, but nothing captivating enough to hold his gaze.
Just as his rising anticipation began to wane, Willet asked,
“What are you looking to buy?”
“Pardon?”
“I said, what will you buy? We’re coming up to where the road splits.”
Arthur’s lips curled into a faint smile.
“So this isn’t all?”
“Of course not. This is just a bazaar cobbled together by those unworthy of entering the true market. The real one lies inside those towers.”
As he spoke, Willet pointed toward three black towers looming in the distance, veiled in mist.
Arthur studied them quietly, then snapped his fingers.
“First, I’d like to see swords.”
“And?”
“I’m also hoping to obtain bloodlines. Unique ones, if possible.”
Willet tilted his head.
“Swords I understand, but bloodlines? That’s an unusual request.”
“Too difficult?”
“Not at all. Bloodlines that are priceless elsewhere are plentiful here.”
Arthur’s eyes sharpened.
“Oh? For example?”
“They say once, long ago, the blood of a lineage that could see the future was sold here.”
Arthur gaped in astonishment.
“Good heavens… blood like that exists?”
“Why wouldn’t it? Those with such bloodlines wield the world’s most alien powers.”
After speaking, Willet thought for a moment, then pointed to one of the towers.
“Let’s start with swords. Over there, you’ll find some worthy loot.”
Arthur nodded and moved toward the central tower Willet indicated—when suddenly a strange voice brushed his ear.
“Oh… and who do we have here?”
Both Arthur and Willet turned at once.
Willet’s eyes widened in shock.
“…You?”
“It’s been nearly twenty years.”
A two-headed old man let out a raspy chuckle.
“Yes… have you been well, Willet Christol?”
—
—
Arthur whispered as he looked upon the elder blocking their path.
*“I didn’t sense him.”*
Whether mage or seasoned swordsman, the fact that he hadn’t noticed a thing until the man was this close put Arthur on edge.
The two-headed old man, noticing Arthur’s wary gaze, jerked his chin.
“And the handsome gentleman beside you—who’s that, Willet?”
Willet hesitated before replying,
“A mercenary under my office.”
“Office? Since when did you become a broker?”
“Quite some time now. About ten years ago.”
The old man barked with laughter.
“The great Willet Christol, once master of the underworld, reduced to a broker? I may have been hiding away, but that’s a shock indeed.”
One of his two heads tilted slyly.
“So… who forced you into retirement?”
“……”
“It wasn’t of your own will, was it? Pirates, perhaps?”
Willet said nothing.
The old man laughed again, straightening his head.
“So there’s a story there.”
“I apologize.”
“Apologize? For what?”
He was about to continue probing Willet when Arthur quietly raised his hand.
“Excuse me… may I ask something?”
The old man turned his two heads toward him.
“Oh? What’s with the sudden question?”
“Was Master Willet really that famous?”
“…What?”
“I heard he was a legendary mercenary. What does that mean?”
The old man blinked.
“Oh… you don’t know the tale?”
“He never spoke of the past.”
“Really? Strange, since it’s hardly something shameful.”
He stroked his chin.
“These days, it’s the \[Seven Sovereigns], the \[Pirates], or that brat \[Bond] who make all the noise. But ten years ago, it was *his* name that echoed loudest.”
Arthur’s eyes widened.
“Master Willet?”
“Yes. \[Ghost] Willet Christol. The greatest mercenary Arcane has ever produced since its founding, and a ma—”
Willet cut him off.
“That’s enough, elder.”
“Ah… am I talking too much?”
“You’re making the past sound too grand.”
The old man chuckled.
“Those who live in the past always do. Then shall I speak of the new generation instead?”
His gaze shifted to Arthur.
“You must be Donn, yes?”
“…Oh?”
“Judging by that reaction, I’m right. The troublemaker who smashed the slave market.”
Arthur nodded.
“Unless someone else wrecked it, that would be me. But how did you recognize me so quickly?”
The old man pointed to the four pupils across his two faces.
“With these eyes, I sometimes see what others cannot. My men owed you that day, so I remembered your face. And now, here you are.”
“…And you are?”
“Me? One of the Seven Sovereigns.”
Arthur’s eyes went wide.
Willet’s low voice warned him.
“Donn. Show respect. This is Balans, the Third Seat of the Sovereigns.”
Snapping to attention, Arthur bowed low.
But Balans waved a hand.
“Enough. You’ve become such an old stick, Willet. Kids these days hate all that.”
“……”
“In any case… I never imagined a mercenary like Donn would be under your office. They say disciples follow masters, but a mercenary resembling a broker? Hah.”
Balans gave a wicked grin before turning away.
“I’d love to chat longer, but I have somewhere to be. Another time, perhaps.”
Willet didn’t stop him.
“It was good to see you again.”
“Was it? For me, seeing you still makes the scar on my chest ache.”
One of Balans’s heads winked.
“Enjoy yourself, both of you. Whatever brought you here, this black market should prove entertaining.”
Just as suddenly as he’d appeared, he vanished without a sound.
Arthur murmured, watching him go.
*“So that stealth was magic….”*
By form alone, he was a mage with at least fifty years of training.
Aside from Whitebeard, he was the most formidable mage Arthur had encountered in this life.
*“No wonder I didn’t notice… He’s stronger than the ax-wielder Sovereign I met in my last life.”*
The Seven Sovereigns—an organization formed by seven of Arcane’s top ten most wanted criminals.
Arthur had crossed paths with some of them in his past life.
Lost in hazy memories, Arthur glanced at Willet.
“…So, Master Willet, you were truly a legendary mercenary?”
Willet scowled at the question.
“Legend, my ass.”
“Still, Balans seemed to respect you a great deal.”
“That looked like respect to you? He seemed ready to kill me.”
Arthur shrugged.
For once, Willet spoke of his past.
“There was both bad blood and connection between us. I never wanted to meet him again… but it seems he’s completed his training and come out.”
Clicking his tongue, he shook off the memories.
“Come. Let’s head to the tower. Best finish our business quickly.”
—
—
Fortunately, unlike before, nothing else happened.
A few cast Willet meaningful glances, but none approached as Balans had.
Arthur stroked his chin in thought.
*“Interesting… I’ve barely been here an hour and already met a Sovereign, and even learned of Willet’s past.”*
Indeed, the sheer scale of this place meant meeting people one would never encounter elsewhere.
Arthur had a good feeling.
*“Usually in such places, something always happens… hmm.”*
As he mused, he halted.
The dwarf and goblin they’d seen earlier appeared again, bowing politely.
“Tickets, please.”
Willet produced the ticket from his coat.
The goblin checked it, then stepped aside at the tower’s entrance.
“Welcome to the Tower of Desire.”
With those words, the doors swung open.
Arthur gasped at the sight within.
“A gallery?”
Willet explained beside him.
“It’s modeled after an art museum.”
Indeed, the interior resembled a luxurious gallery. White marble, red carpets, and countless items displayed on pedestals.
Goblin attendants stood guard, whispering to guests showing interest.
Arthur watched, fascinated, until Willet gestured.
“This way.”
Following him, Arthur’s eyes roamed.
“Three hundred gold.”
“I’m afraid not, sir. The last bidder wrote four hundred.”
“Four hundred? For this?”
“Yes, sir.”
Arthur, eavesdropping, muttered,
*“So it’s an auction system. But… is this all there is?”*
Most items were jewels, precious metals, or ornate swords.
Impressive, but not quite what he sought.
At that moment, Willet halted.
“You understand the auction system now?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Then let’s split up here.”
Arthur tilted his head.
“You have business too, Master Willet?”
“It’s not often I come to places like this. Best to buy something useful if I can. The swords you want should be that way.”
Arthur nodded.
“When shall we meet?”
“In an hour. And some advice—don’t call out too high a price from the start. Those goblins may well scam you.”
Arthur’s eyes widened.
*“Oh… so the bids might be fake?”*
He nodded. Such trickery was entirely possible in a black market.
He set off in the direction Willet had indicated.
Indeed, numerous blades filled that section of the gallery.
“Hm…”
Arthur’s eyes gleamed as he examined them.
From decorative blades to massive greatswords bordering on blunt weapons—
All kinds of swords lay displayed.
*“Yes, this section’s quality is much higher.”*
Narrowing his eyes, Arthur gauged the killing edge of each.
He might not recognize fine craftsmanship, but he knew at a glance which blades could kill well.
The raw murderous aura unique to swords gleamed from many of them.
Just as he approached one particular blade—
Someone called his alias.
“…Donn?”
Arthur flinched and turned.
A gray-haired young man stared back at him.
“…And you are?”
The youth furrowed his brow.
“Kassel.”
“…?”
“We worked together that time, remember?”
Arthur blinked, then exclaimed,
“Ah… the one who collapsed from hallucinations?”
Kassel’s expression twisted with rage.
—
