Chapter 108: Dharma

  The thief clearly had a second sense of some sort, because he began to turn the moment I made my intentions clear. To this day, I remain uncertain what the trigger was; I wasn't intending to kill him, assuming an appropriate level of cooperation, so it couldn't have been detection of Killing Intent. I'd barely curled my fist when he moved, leaving such a narrow window to react that I suspected some form of precognition, but surely that couldn't be the answer, because why would someone with such a gift be targeting tourists at a food stall? True, my guard wasn't necessarily up in the moment, but I like to think that I hold myself properly: I'm not the kind to be a victim or in danger, in many cases, I am the danger, so why me?

  The thief refused to answer my justified questions, mainly because his spin meant my fist was buried in the front of his throat; a painful outcome, albeit less dangerous than the rabbit punch I'd initially aimed at the back of his neck. The latter was banned in nearly every combat sport back on Earth, due to the high risk of irreversible spinal damage followed by death, but that was no reason to refrain here; I needed him to talk, not walk. Surprisingly resilient, he managed to pull a knife from his sleeve, all while coughing like a chimney from my opening blow.

  [Plum withdrawn.]

  I gave him a plum for his efforts; serving up two helpings of freshly squeezed plum juice, right in the eyes. Having had the same as a child, I can confirm one thing: it hurts like hell, so don't try this at home. He actually gasped at this, having recovered enough breath for it; his knife stabbed at empty air while his off hand instinctively went to his face, fruitlessly scraping at his eyes and irritating them even further. My hand clamped down around his wrist, before bringing an end to his wild flailing with a sharp twist, sending his knife flying out of reach.

  "Stop."

  It's amazing how obedient people become after you demonstrate your superiority over them. The thief froze in place, and I didn't even have to grab him by the throat to prevent him from screaming.

  "You can have your m-money back," the Thief stammered, looking close to tears at the sudden reversal of fortune.

  I backhanded him across the face, leaving the beginning of a large purple bruise.

  "I don't care about the money. Take off your concealment item if you want to live."

  I watched his hands carefully, ready to move in case of any skulduggery, but he seemed resigned to his fate, as he pried a worn copper ring from a finger.

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  [Armand

  Level 3 Thief]

  The big reveal was about what I expected; there was an inherent level of suspicion associated with hiding from the System, so naturally his Class had to be something that would invite even more suspicion when unveiled.

  "Tell me, Armand, do you use drugs?"

  Amusingly, he flinched before shaking his head; only a momentary lapse, but a moment is all I need.

  [Valkyrie Dust withdrawn.]

  "Are you familiar with this?" I press on, waving the vial in his face and watching his pupils constrict.

  "Never tried it," Armand shook his head again. "Heard it makes you feel amazing, but the comedown is rough."

  "Good enough," I nodded, handing him the vial for his troubles. "Consider this a finder's fee. You're going to introduce me to whatever you know at the local black market, my product isn't going to sell itself after all."

  Armand went three shades paler at my demand, which was rather notable because he didn't look like he got much sunlight to begin with, judging by the few patches of skin visiuble through his rather concealing robes.

  "I don't have a choice, do I?" He eventually sighed, though his dismay didn't stop him from pocketing the dust.

  "Start walking."

  All things considered, this wasn't quite what I had in mind when I set out for the day, but if anything, it was a stroke of luck. I'd anticipated a gradual process, observing and trailing the local faces of the underworld: the beggars, buskers and their ilk, until I found who I was looking for. Getting a foot in the door this early went beyond my expectations, to the point where I was willing to let Armand keep his pilfered coin. So what if I still roughed him up a bit? That was only par for the course; it wasn't about the money, it was about sending a message.

  I kept close to Armand as I let him take the lead, heading deeper into the back alleys, where one grimy grey street blended into the next. I didn't think him brave enough to try turning on me, not after my earlier display, but I did anticipate a potential escape attempt. Sure enough, after just a few minutes at a brisk walk, I saw his legs twitch with the anticipation of power.

  "Stop right there," I ordered, clamping a hand around his shoulder and gripping down hard. "Pumpkin, climb onto him won't you? If he tries to get away from me, slice his neck open."

  Pumpkin obliged, wrapping himself around Armand like a scarf; it looked significantly more threatening that when he did it to me, probably thanks to the claw pressed up against the carotid artery. That did the trick, and there were no further attempts to break away during the trip. I wasn't keeping an exact track of time, but we couldn't have walked more than ten minutes before the smell of industry wafted over, and sure enough, one final turn took us away from the narrow streets and into a bustling market square. Unlike the well-polished stalls near the temple rotunda, small tents and face masks were the order of the day here, and people hurried along without stopping to stare at the goods.

  As far as a black market went, it was surprisingly presentable; better than the flea markets back home, if I was being honest.

  "Well, what are we waiting for? Lead the way to the local dealer. Time's a wasting."