"This won't be a usual, tiny war," said the crimson-eyed man, continuing to stuff the artifacts within his bag. "The fact that you sold to their opponents during such a time would inevitably result in backlash."
"Backlash…"
"Your death," said Arthur, locking eyes with the petrified figure of the talented businessman. Although well-versed in business tactics, Ferhill was unbeknownst to the complexities of human reaction.
At this point, the two clans were aggressively seeking allies and attempting to eliminate potential enemies. Ferhill acted as a bridge between the two and was neither an ally nor an opponent. However, that was potentially the worst position to be in.
The possibility of a potential ally morphing into an enemy once the war began was horrifying to the two clans. Since Ferhill catered to both clans, they felt a sense of goodwill and hostility simultaneously.
'The two clans won't consider morality when preparing for a conflict. Even logic goes down the drain when hostility and enmity reach a certain point.'
"How do you know what they'll do?" Ferhill inquired, cocking his head. The conflicts had never been more than small-scale wars. The fact that Arthur said explicitly that it wouldn't be a tiny war was both concerning and somewhat questionable.
The conflict hadn't even begun… how was Arthur aware of the scale of what it would eventually develop into?
"I don't," replied the crimson-eyed man. "However, I just spent a few days with the Princess of the Celestial Peaks. Our relationship is quite diplomatic, so I managed to get some information about the affairs of the Celestial Peaks. It turns out they're going be watching from the sidelines for the most part."
Although his statement was a bull-faced lie, Arthur couldn't reveal information about his regression within the tower. The only person aware of it was Melzer, for the sole purpose of convincing him to help Arthur unlock a constitution.
He was practically harmless when he first regressed, and revealing such information was a must.
'I did get Skofnung from him, so it wasn't a bad deal,' thought Arthur, glancing at the mysterious Demonic Blade. Its traits were still a mystery to Arthur. How was he unaware of its capabilities while others were somehow aware?
'Is there something wrong with my memories?'
He couldn't dispel the thought from his mind. Memory manipulation was rare and an ancient path of power, but was by no means unseen.
"The Princess told you?" Ferhill inquired, bewildered by Arthur's words. His employer truly had connections to the sole Princess of the Celestial Peaks? Suddenly, his regret decreased by a tiny amount.
The Princess was practically a legendary figure for a regular player. While Bahamut was akin to a God.
"Yep, now pack up quickly," Arthur barked.
The two worked for a few minutes, packing up all artifacts before abandoning the shop for good. They rented a room in the most isolated inn within the Outer District, attempting to hide from those who would come.
*
Night fell fairly quickly. Ferhill's shop–by then–was entirely empty with not a single valuable item left behind. Arthur and the talented businessman completely vacated the location, leaving not a shred of their true identity behind.
Within the darkness, a group of armed soldiers approached the shop.
With longswords strapped to their waist and traditional attire hugging their bodies, the soldiers stood before Ferhill's shop. Suddenly, a certain, distinguished man with a cleanly trimmed beard stepped forward.
"You said this was the shop? The one that sold to the Devas?" The bearded man inquired, emotionlessly staring at the shop. He was the leader of a tiny division and was an Elite Ranker himself.
Although his position was quite low, Asgard did not spare any resources for his development and even assigned him a division. The bearded man was on the cusp of becoming a Ranker and was only a few floors away.
Perhaps a year or so until he ascended.
"Yes, commander," said a certain soldier, nodding.
The bearded man was deep in thought, wondering why his superior ordered him to demolish the location. Was it such a sin to simply yearn for profit? He pitied the man who owned the shop, the one who would meet imminent death.
During such a time, Asgard couldn't risk sparing someone who did business with both them and the Devas.
Such organizations were called "Outliers" by clans.
They only cared about profit and would sell to both sides, even during a conflict. Usually, Outliers had some sort of backing and did not act rashly in the face of danger. That was why Asgard sent an entire division instead of a single player.
Outliers would often stir trouble and become instigators to ignite the flames of conflict. Although this shop was not part of such aggressive Outliers, it did not change the fact that it could be trouble in the future.
"Destroy it," he said, letting out a sigh.
As the soldiers prepared destructive spells, the mana density of the surroundings increased exponentially. Blinding light spilled from the area, alerting all residents who resided nearby, and causing them to freak out.
Since the soldiers were mostly on lower floors, the penalty placed upon them would not be too severe. It would not affect Asgard in any way.
"Look who it is," a voice suddenly resounded across the area. All spells were extinguished solely due to the voice, with the mana being dispersed into the atmosphere. "The puppies of Asgard."
"Devas," said the bearded man, acknowledging the lanky man who approached.
The lanky man was a well-known Elite Ranker of the Devas and an acquaintance of the bearded man.
"Since when did you grow so meek?" The lanky man inquired, flashing a mocking smile at Asgard's forces.
"Since I realized that conflict does not benefit anyone."
"Look at you, being all wise," said the lanky man, shaking his head in disappointment. "Let's get this over with. I can't bear to look at your sorry ass for any longer. You've changed, Muri… You've changed."
The bearded man did not respond, and simply commanded his troops to attack.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
That night, many explosions rang.
