A Black Market LitRPG

“This was supposed to be an easy fight!” A meaty hand slammed the wooden table, causing the map made out of parchment on the table and empty mugs of ale to tremble. The same hand pointed menacingly at a group of young men, who flinched slightly.

“All you had to do was defend against the Red Lions, and instead you idiots turned it into an ugly fight that got one of the repayment fodder killed for nothing. We lost control of that entire block!” The owner of the hand berated the group, chiding them for their incompetence.

“It wasn’t our fault – Riker was too strong! We need more equipment and train-” One of the guys complained, infuriated at the one-sided scolding.

“You’re useless, Damian. If I was there, I could easily beat him with one hand tied behind my back. Back in my heyday, I used to be the champion in this district! Me, Ulon Baktar! Even the Ardent Cretins knew about my name.” The gang leader of the Seven Snakes smacked his chest with that same meaty hand.

Then why don’t you go there and fight yourself, huh? Damian internally raged as Ulon Baktar went on a spiel about the good old days and how the Seven Snakes used to be a great gang, controlling more than three districts in the South Sector. Now they were a small-time racket, barely a factor in the criminal underbelly of Raktor.

The only reason why the twenty gang members remained behind was that they were far too weak to join the other gangs, as well as being locals of this district right here. Their friends, family and acquaintances were all here – leaving the gang meant their relationships would be subject to abuse by Ulon. Damian grimaced, shooting an angry glare at Ulon. If only I had enough strength to kill him in a duel…

“Don’t you know how I became gang leader? I duelled the previous one as per tradition, winning easily! It is ALL of you, the useless trash, that is dragging down the reputation we once had!” Ulon accused.

Before Ulon could continue his monologue any further, the door burst wide open, with Kyle Hawthorn entering, dragging the badly beaten-up Riker, who was still slightly whimpering as his wounded limbs were continuously cut by the rough flooring. Kyle had Riker’s enchanted metal pipe strapped to his belt, his clothes still drenched in dried blood.

Tossing Riker to the side without care, Kyle walked up to face Ulon directly, who was still sitting behind the table. “You are the gang leader of the Seven Snakes?” Kyle asked stoically.

“Al-Alvin, I heard from Damian that you were badly hurt. They thought you dead! Where did you find Riker? Was it another gang that intervened? Did we get back the block?” Ulon was happy about seeing one of Red Lion’s goons in terrible shape, focusing on Riker’s bruised face with glee.

Kyle snapped his fingers once, a light but somehow extremely clear and attention-grabbing sound. “Answer the question.”

Ulon was slightly taken aback by the sheer confidence that Alvin now radiated. Instead of replying directly, Ulon was more angered by the fact that this lowly repayment fodder had the audacity to act like he was in charge. “Yes, I am your gang leader, and I order you to get back into formation behind Damian before I punish you again! Seems like the gang fight has made you forget how we run. You belong to me!”

“I heard you killed the previous leader in a duel. I challenge you to a duel for the position of the gang leader.”

The entire room was shocked. The weak Alvin now suddenly standing up to Ulon? What in the world has gotten into him? He had just ‘come back’ from the dead.

Ulon squinted his eyes. “You do know it’s a life-or-death duel, no?”

Kyle didn’t respond, merely staring right at Ulon’s plump face, waiting for his reply. The nonchalant expression on Kyle’s face irked Ulon even more.

“Good; if you want to be beaten to death so much, I’ll happily oblige. I won’t be killing off my property so soon, though – I’ll have you taste punishment!”

“Very well.” Kyle immediately delivered a strong frontal kick to the table, smacking right into Ulon and toppling him over in the chair. The table cracked apart in the middle from the force, causing Ulon to be caught off-guard and slightly disorientated from the shock as he tried to get up.

Before Ulon could recover, Kyle grabbed the enchanted metal pipe from his waist belt, running up and smacking it as hard as he could on Ulon’s undefended head. A loud snapping sound was heard, Ulon’s forearm shattering in a desperate attempt to block.

Instead of crying out, Ulon bore the pain and began to try and fight back while he still lay on the floor, throwing a few punches and kicks, runes on his necklace glowing green. A green aura enveloped Ulon, healing the wound on his forearm like magic and mending. “Hah, you think you can-“

Another quick smack on his arm interrupted Ulon, cracking his forearm again, followed by a flurry of rapid hits. Kyle wasn’t about to let Ulon heal normally, continuously whacking.

“Wai-WAIT! STOP!” Ulon screamed, sticking his other good arm out, which was unceremoniously hit by the enchanted metal pipe too. Kyle whacked with consistency, never stopping and with a constant breath, as though he was pounding a dough of bread.

The beating continued for three minutes, the necklace’s glow beginning to faint. Ulon could barely talk now, his face a complete mess covered in blood and snot. Kyle finally grabbed the metal pipe with both arms before smashing it right down on Ulon’s head, a soft little spurt echoing through the office.

None of the other members dared to move during the entire duel, shocked by the sheer brutality revealed by Alvin. It was as if a different human – no, a monster had awoken within Alvin.

Kyle was about to raise his metal pipe to hit Ulon again when a message appeared.

Kyle rested his bloodied metal pipe on his shoulders and bent over to rip Ulon’s necklace from his neck, curious about the source of the green aura.

Kyle glanced around at the frightened gang members. “Anyone else want to try me?”

The gang members shook their heads rapidly, including Damian. While Ulon was a slob and a lazy leader, there was no doubt he was well-defended and had a solid constitution. The number of hits Kyle had to deliver to kill Ulon was a testimonial to that. Kyle didn’t even look tired out, his eyes still staring directly at them with rapt attention.

“No, leader.” Damian bowed immediately, a slight fear erupting on his face as he realised that Kyle could maybe beat all of them up without breaking a sweat. If I couldn’t beat Ulon, I can’t beat Alvin now!

“Good. From now on, the gang is under me. The name shall remain the same. Who’s the oldest gang member here?” Kyle asked.

The gang members looked at each other, completely confused about Alvin’s apparent memory loss. Did he really not remember anything about the gang? “I’ve been here the longest, about five years now, Alvin.”

“Ok, the rest of you, dump the two bodies into the nutri-recycler or the airlock and get out. You stay. Also, from now on, my name is Kyle, got it?” Kyle motioned with a dismissive tone.

Expressions of utter confusion were apparent to the gang members. They begin to whisper among each other, wondering if Alvin finally went senile or was pushed to the edge by the near-death experience, creating a bipolar personality. What the fuck was a nutri-recycler?

A loud and clear snap rang through the room again. “I said, got it?” Kyle stared them down with a stern expression, causing the rest of the gang members to nod their heads vigorously, exiting the room while carrying the dead Ulon and unconscious Riker.

Kyle kicked the broken table apart, retrieved the somehow structurally sound chair and sat down on it before staring right at Damian. “Name?”

“Alvin, do you not remember me? What happened to you in that fight? I swear I didn’t mean to abandon you; it’s just…” Damian rambled, before looking up into Kyle’s eyes, seeing that he was extremely serious and not in a joking manner. The blotches of blood that stained his clothes added even more intimidation.

“My name is Damian, leader.” Damian formally replied after a few seconds, to which Kyle finally nodded.

“I’m going to be asking some questions. You will answer immediately and directly to the best of your abilities.”

Damian nodded. Did he lose all his memories, and a bipolar personality took over or something?

“Good. I only need to know four things. First, economic factors. What is the current state of the economy? Average debt per person?”

“Eco-what?” Damian was already lost.

Kyle took a deep breath, knowing this was going to be tough.

“Fine. What is the population of the city?”

“Yes, sir, the city of Raktor is home to approximately eight million people. We are currently in the South Sector.” He did lose all his memories.

“What is the level of technology here?”

“Level of technology…? Well, most of the new stuff runs on arctech, machinery and so on. I’m not sure how to explain it…” Damian scratched his head.

Kyle frowned visibly, causing Damian to tense up slightly. “How does this city make money? Do you have a currency system?”

“Ah yes, the city is a big trade hub, so most of the money comes from trading and services. We’re at the edge of the empire, bordering two other nations. There are a few factories, but they are still fairly new and not scaled up yet; mostly research. The currency is rakels.”

“So a nascent industrialisation society…”

“Na-sce-nt?”

“Ignore that. How does the Seven Snakes make money now?”

“Oh, the usual. We provide protection services to traders and stall owners in this district as well as other shops. We also trade in alcohol and own a few brothels. Or at least we used to.”

“Alcohol?”

“Yes, wine, moonshine, the usual. There’s a citywide ban on alcohol and many other things now, so the gangs have been fighting or negotiating for every inch of territory to cash in on potential customers. That was why we were fighting for that area, Alv… Kyle. Leader, sorry.”

Kyle’s eyes seemed to light up. It seems that one of his first steps has already been accomplished. “How rich are we right now relative to the rest of the city? Top 5%, I assume?”

“Pe-rc-ent? What’s that? Actually, we’ve been in debt since three months ago to another gang called the Crimson Swords.” Damian said with a sheepish smile.

Kyle’s eyes immediately lost their light, but he was unfazed. There was still a chance.

“You mentioned arctech; what’s that?”

“Arctech is equipment that relies on energy, specifically arcia energy. Can be found stored in arcite ore.”

“Arcite?”

“A mineral that provides energy, other than living beings and leylines. Something that powers weapons like your metal pipe.”

Kyle checked his still bloodied metal pipe, noticing the runes on it. It did not activate when he was swinging it for some reason.

“How big is our gang? This can’t be all the members, right? Where are the rest? I was told by the Red Lion member that we control an entire district.”

Damian was a bit ashamed, seeing Kyle ask it with such confidence. “This is the full strength. Twenty men are all we have. We barely have any money to recruit any more. We used to be bigger.”

Damian watched Kyle grip the metal pipe even harder, causing him to tremble slightly as Kyle’s face seemed to simmer with rage or disappointment.

Kyle pondered for a moment before realising something missing. “Are drugs banned? Psychedelics? Hallucinatory products?” Kyle tried every term he could think of.

“Ps-ki-eric-ks? Drugs? What? If you’re talking about hallucinations, an engraved array or a potion would be able to inflict illusions. We have alchemists in the city, though such potions are ridiculously overpriced and hard to procure. Nobody uses them…”

A small smile appeared on Kyle’s face as he heard the keywords he wanted to hear, which only frightened Damian even more. It was the smile of a businessman knowing he’s found a hole in the market.

“Now we’re getting somewhere.”