Chapter 11: Operation: Save The Princess [3]

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Chapter 11: Operation: Save The Princess [3] Kraken Town wasn’t just a random town — it was a rot that festered quietly beneath the empire’s surface, a place so drenched in corruption that even the game warned players to tread carefully. When playing as a heroine in Fall of Ares, this town was a nightmare made of cobbled streets, back-alley ambushes, rigged taverns, and slums where "missing" meant "forgotten." It was here that a particular heroine’s backstory unfolded — one that left even Azel shaken the first time he unlocked it. Her name? Ira Valein. Dubbed the [Emotionless Heroine] by the fandom, Ira was a cold beauty who, by the time she entered the game’s main plotline, could barely remember how to smile. Sold into slavery at a young age, she clawed her way to freedom by gathering coin from mercenary jobs, stuffing down every ounce of humanity until there was nothing left but efficiency and precision. She had no family. No warmth. No hesitation. She only enrolled in the Imperial Academy because she hoped becoming strong would help her... feel something again. And when the calamity that was destined to take her away came, she sacrificed herself not out of love or loyalty — but because the pain inside had become too much to bear. Azel wanted to save her. Badly. But she was like a glitch in the timeline. Her early life was a blur even in the game files, and right now, she’d be nothing more than a shadow among countless other orphans and slaves. There was no way to pinpoint her — yet. So for now, he focused on saving Naelia Starbloom. "You know you should get some rest," Steven said, arms folded as he leaned against the wooden doorframe. Azel nodded, rubbing his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. I’ll wake up by dinner." He yawned and flopped back onto the bed. It didn’t take long before his breathing evened out, exhaustion pulling him under like a tide. Steven chuckled softly. "Kid sleeps like he’s been training with dragons." He gave the boy one last glance before slipping out of the room. [Later That Evening] The air downstairs was thick with chatter, smoke, and the clatter of mugs. A bard sat in the far corner strumming a lute lazily, and drunk laughter erupted from a table of mercenaries playing dice. Steven descended the stairs quietly, now dressed in a nondescript gray tunic and dark trousers. Azel had not woken up, instead he was latched onto his bed and sleeping soundly and Steven didn’t want to interrupt the boy’s sleep. His camo earring still gleamed faintly on his ear, keeping his true identity hidden. A young girl — probably about Azel’s age — approached with a shy smile, handing him a tattered menu. "Evening, mister. Would you like something to eat?" Steven smiled warmly and gave her head a light pat. "Surprise me with something filling, and keep the change," he said, handing over two silver Ares. Her eyes widened slightly. "R-Really?" "Buy yourself something sweet," he added, winking. She flushed, gave a quick curtsy, and darted away. ’Even here, innocence still survives,’ he mused as he glanced around. Then his ears picked something up. A heated buzzing from a nearby round table where four men in worn travel gear were gathered. One had a long mustache, another a red bandana around his head, the rest looked like ex-guards or aging adventurers. Their voices were low, but the frustration laced into their tone was impossible to miss. Steven picked up his tray once the food arrived — some braised meat, roasted root vegetables, and a steaming cup of spiced ale — and casually walked over. "Mind if I sit here?" he asked. The red-banded man looked up, eyes narrowing — then shrugged. "Go ahead. Just talking trash about this shit town anyway." Steven sat, sipping his ale slowly. "Trash? I just arrived today. Looks peaceful enough." The man with the mustache snorted. "Peaceful on the outside. Inside, it’s all rot. The mayor? That bastard’s pocket’s so stuffed he can barely walk straight." "Anytime someone speaks up, they disappear," added another, a gruff bald man with a scar on his nose. "We had a baker once who tried to report the slave auctions that happen beneath the butcher shop on seventh. Two days later? Whole damn place burned down with his family in it." Steven’s expression darkened slightly. "No one investigates?" The red-band guy laughed bitterly. "The guards? Half of ’em work for the local gangs. The other half are too scared to do anything. Kraken’s not a town anymore — it’s a business front." Steven stirred his food slowly, nodding as he took it all in. "Has anyone seen the mayor in public recently?" he asked. "Only at brothels or banquets. Guy lives like a king. Doesn’t give a rat’s ass what happens to us common folk." The man with the scar slammed his mug on the table. "People are going missing every week now. Women. Kids. And no one does a damn thing!" Steven frowned. "Slavers?" "Most likely. I heard even some nobles from the capital come here to bid on exotic bloodlines. The whole system’s rigged. Even if you got proof, they’d bury it." Steven leaned back slightly, setting his mug down. "Sounds like this town needs a purge." The men paused. Then nodded grimly. "If only we had someone with real authority backing us. Or a group of real adventurers who’d put the fear of the gods in ’em. The guards from the capital that come here are usually bribed." "Well," Steven said with a casual smile, "you never know who might be passing through." They all stared at him. Something about the way he said it sent a chill down their spines. But they all calmed down and had a hearty dinner, Steven gave a light wave and returned to the stairs an hour later. He had gotten enough information about this town and after they found the Princess, he would use his authority as the Sword Saint to perform a purge here, it was very much needed. Steven sighed. "Humans really don’t learn."

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