Devouring Dragon Heir-Chapter 25: Ch Another Cultist Dammit!!

Klaus made a detailed list of all the gates within the capital’s vicinity that contained monsters from his chosen elements: Ice, Shadow, Fire, and Earth.

Luckily, he found quite a few of them. He considered the possibility of trying to awaken all elements, but he had limited time to waste.

His immediate need was to get strong, and to do that, he needed to narrow down his focus and accelerate his growth in specific areas.

Once he entered the Guardian Academy, he would reiterate his plans for the future and decide on broader elemental mastery.

With that thought firmly in mind, Klaus activated his Phantasmal Veil. The sensation was surreal. His body didn’t just become transparent; it felt as if he literally ceased to exist in that space.

The air where he stood felt empty, his presence gone to any conventional sense. No light reflected, no heat radiated, no sound resonated from his movements. He simply vanished from the world.

He then silently appeared in a narrow, unlit alleyway at the back of the inn. The transition was seamless.

"This is perfect," he thought. "No one knew I was there" He had jumped from the window of his room directly onto the street yet no one detected him.

Klaus then walked out of the alley and into the bustling streets of the capital. Despite the earlier commotion regarding the vanished gate, the city was as vibrant and crowded as ever, people going about their daily lives.

He wanted to sell the corpses of the ice golems he had harvested and earn some quick money. He had 50 corpses stored in his Subspace, a significant haul.

Luckily, the corpses of these specific golems had gone up dramatically in value due to the disappearance of their primary source, the Ice Golem’s Lair. This was an unexpected windfall for him.

He slowly walked into a nondescript clothing shop, blending in with the ordinary shoppers, his presence completely muted by Phantasmal Veil.

Once inside, he quickly bought a simple, black face mask, the kind used for general anonymity, and pulled it on. It was a physical layer of disguise, supplementing his magical concealment.

Then, he walked towards the bustling market district, a labyrinth of stalls and shops, to sell the corpses. Although he could have sold them at the Hunter Association, he did not want to reveal his identity.

Fifty high-value monster corpses were far too much for a mere D-rank hunter, and it would undoubtedly raise uncomfortable questions.

But since he didn’t have any established connections in the city’s black market, he had to try his luck with various shops, hoping to find someone willing to deal discreetly.

He systematically went to one shop after another, entering, revealing a hidden glimpse of his wares (just enough to show he had them), and stating his intention to sell a large quantity of monster corpses while keeping his identity hidden.

Each time, he was met with suspicion, outright rejection, or absurdly lowball offers. Most shopkeepers either scoffed at his request, assuming he was an amateur trying to pull a fast one, or became visibly nervous, clearly wary of dealing in undeclared goods that might attract the attention of the Hunter Association.

One particularly gruff shop owner even started cussing him ansd to not make a fool of him and piss off!

After walking around for what felt like hours, getting told "Piss off, kid" or "Go to the Association, we don’t deal with shady types" a number of times, Klaus tried the last shop on the street.

It looked completely out of order, its wooden facade old and cracked from time, paint peeling, and a general air of disuse about it. The windows were grimy, and the sign, faded and illegible, hung precariously from one rusty hook.

It was exactly the kind of place where illicit dealings might occur, a place where the shadows felt a little deeper.

Inside, he saw a bald man with a rat-like face, hunched over a counter covered in dusty ledgers and various odd trinkets. The man’s eyes, small and beady, seemed to dart constantly, taking in everything at once.

Upon seeing Klaus’s masked figure enter, the man gave a creepy, unsettling smile, a thin-lipped curve that didn’t quite reach his eyes, and gestured for him to come further into the dimly lit shop.

"I am here to sell monster corpses, but I will not do it through conventional means,"

Klaus said in a very confident tone, trying to emulate the hardened dealers he’d seen in movies, as if he had years of experience in dealing with this type of stuff.

He needed to appear capable and not like a naive newcomer. He kept his voice low, slightly muffled by the mask, giving it an air of mystery.

But the scrawny man just chuckled, a dry, raspy sound, at his words. His beady eyes seemed to pierce right through Klaus’s feigned confidence.

"Since you are here, then that means you were rejected at the other stores. That means it’s your first time in the market and you are randomly trying your luck." The man’s voice was surprisingly calm, devoid of the usual suspicion Klaus had encountered.

He spoke with a shrewd certainty that revealed a deep understanding of the market’s underbelly. freeweɓnøvel~com

Klaus was flustered from inside. His carefully constructed façade cracked slightly, but he quickly regained composure, maintaining a calm exterior.

He felt a bead of sweat trickle down his back despite the shop’s cool temperature.

"How can you say that? I visited every other store in the market, but their prices were terrible."

He tried to deflect, to maintain the illusion of being a seasoned, albeit disgruntled, seller.

"Hehe! Let’s just say that I have special skills related to business and merchandising," the man replied, his rat-like eyes gleaming with amusement.

He clearly saw through Klaus’s bluff. He leaned forward, resting his chin on his clasped hands, a predatory look in his eyes.

"Those other shops, they like their clean records. They prefer to deal with registered hunters, declared goods. You’re not registered for this kind of transaction, are you? And with the whole gate disappearance fiasco, everyone’s extra twitchy."

"Tch, anyway, you got some deal, or should I leave?" Klaus said, adopting an annoyed tone.

He wasn’t going to let this man get the upper hand entirely.

He needed to show he wasn’t desperate, despite the growing feeling that this was his only option. He subtly shifted his weight, preparing to leave if the conversation didn’t progress.

The scrawny man, Shakala, gestured for Klaus to sit across the table, a worn, stained wooden surface that looked like it had seen countless similar negotiations.

"There are no deals without a name," he said, his gaze piercing, "even if it’s a false one." He looked at Klaus expectantly, a silent challenge in his eyes.

"Draco Malfoy," Klaus said in a low, gravelly tone, trying to emulate a deeper, more sinister voice than his own, recalling a character from an old fantasy series he’d enjoyed in his past life.

It was a silly name, but it was better than his real one, and it certainly sounded distinct.

"You have a sinister name there, brat," the rat-faced man chuckled again.

"Anyway, my name is Shakala, and I deal in both white and black.

In the black market, there is a commission, but it is still lower than the official tax in white.

My shop runs on discretion and efficiency, not on official paperwork." He laid out his terms, clear and concise, his voice betraying no emotion.

Klaus’s face twitched slightly upon being called a "brat" again. It was irritating, but he swallowed his annoyance. He had a goal.

"Fifty ice golem corpses from the Ice Golem’s Lair" Klaus said, cutting straight to the chase.

He subtly allowed a faint, almost imperceptible shimmer of the unique blue ice from one of the golem corpses to appear from his Subspace, just enough to confirm the quality and origin.

Shakala’s eyes widened slightly, a flicker of genuine surprise crossing his features before he quickly masked it.

"Hehe! That is a spicy deal you got there, ’Malfoy’," he rasped, emphasizing the fake name.

"Let’s see. Originally, these corpses costed at 2,000 Union Credits per piece. But due to the disappearance of the gate, the current market price has skyrocketed to 10,000 Union Credits. However, since this is a black market deal, I can only give you 8,000 Credits at most." He leaned back, a smug look on his face, as if he had just made an incredibly generous offer.

Klaus scoffed internally. He knew the market price. Shakala was trying to take a huge cut.

"9000," Klaus named his price, his voice firm, leaving no room for negotiation. He was willing to be flexible, but not ripped off entirely.

"Nope," the reply came instantly, without hesitation. Shakala simply shook his head, his smile unwavering.

At this point, the battle of wits truly started. Klaus knew he held valuable goods, but Shakala held the monopoly on discreet, unrecorded transactions for an unknown hunter.

"I know you will earn much more in other ways" Klaus said, implying Shakala’s ability to resell at a higher price or even process the materials himself.

He was attempting to appeal to Shakala’s greed and hint at his own knowledge of the market.

"You are also free to explore those ways" Shakala replied, his voice flat, completely unfazed. He knew Klaus had nowhere to go.

"It’s my first time in your shop, so beginner’s perk," Klaus tried, appealing to a sense of traditional courtesy, a common tactic in such negotiations.

"Nope," Shakala dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand.

"My shop doesn’t do ’perks.’ "

"I’ll become your permanent customer," Klaus offered, putting forward the promise of future business, a long-term benefit.

"How can I believe you?" Shakala countered, his beady eyes narrowing. "You’re a masked man with a fake name. Permanence is a luxury in this business."

"An exclusive contract?" Klaus pressed, pushing for a formal agreement, something to bind them.

"But you won’t reveal your identity," Shakala stated, pointing out the inherent contradiction in Klaus’s offer.

An exclusive contract usually required trust and transparency, neither of which Klaus was offering.

Klaus internally grimaced. Shakala was good. He was holding firm, exploiting Klaus’s need for anonymity.

Klaus calculated quickly. 8,000 was too low. 9,000 was ideal. He needed to find a middle ground that felt like a concession but was still acceptable. "8,700 Union Credits?" he proposed, hoping the slight increase would tempt the man.

"Nope," came the immediate, flat reply. Shakala didn’t even flinch.

Klaus sighed internally. He knew he was nearing his bottom line, but he also recognized he was cornered.

Shakala had him over a barrel. "8,500 Union Credits?" he asked, resignation in his voice. This was barely acceptable, still a significant cut from the market price, but better than nothing.

"Deal," Shakala stated, a wider, more genuine smile finally gracing his rat-like face. It was the smile of a predator who had successfully cornered his prey.

Klaus bit back a sigh of frustration. He knew he had been tricked. Shakala was a master negotiator, his experience far outmatching Klaus’s. Also a mysterious skill that made him see through klaus

But there was no choice right now. He didn’t even have access to the intricate black market networks of the city, which were undoubtedly controlled by more dangerous figures than Shakala. He could only do this deal with this shrewd, rat-faced man.

As the transaction completed, a series of notifications chimed, confirming the transfer of funds. Approximately 425,000 Union Credits were transferred directly into his account. It was a substantial sum.

Klaus was still ecstatic despite being outmaneuvered. He had earned quite some money, certainly more than he had ever seen in his life, although it was still not enough to buy a house in the capital. But it was a start, a solid financial foundation for his upcoming plans.

"Next time I come with even more exotic monsters, but if you don’t give me a good price, I will not be dealing with you" Klaus said, his voice firm, a subtle threat underlying his words.

He needed to establish boundaries for future transactions, to show that he wasn’t entirely helpless. He then turned and walked away from the store, not waiting for a reply.

"Hehe, you’re welcome again in my humble shop, dear Malfoy," the rat-faced man’s voice echoed from within the shadows, a hint of genuine amusement in his tone.

Klaus now started returning to his hotel, his money pouch feeling significantly heavier which he promptly sent to his inventory once no one was watching.

Tomorrow, he would start with his plan of grinding through gates to rank up. He also made a spontaneous decision to stop at an expensive restaurant on the way.

He had been frustrated by eating the same cheap, bland food at the inn for too long.

He deserved a proper meal after his intense day of fighting and tricky negotiations. He ordered a rich, flavorful steak, savoring every bite. The taste was a welcome change, a brief luxury.

Feeling satisfied and a little more relaxed, Klaus then returned to the inn he was staying in. He climbed up the familiar stairs to his room, his footsteps silent thanks to Phantasmal Veil which he kept partially active.

he did it to get himself fimiliar to the feeling of this skill so that he could use it tommorow seamlessly.

He reached his door and was about to insert his key when a sudden, chilling memory flashed through his mind.

Earlier, when he had exited the room to activate his stealth skill and sell the corpses, he had slipped out from the window facing the back of the building. His room was at the corner, making it a discrete exit point.

But while returning from his walk through the alleyway and the back street, he had noticed something odd: all the windows on his floor, including his own, were closed. How was that possible?

He knew the inn owner couldn’t have closed them, as only the person with the room keys could access them. The owner would have no reason to enter his room, especially not just to close a window he had left open for a quick exit that the owner was not even aware of.

A dark premonition rose in his heart, tightening his chest. His senses, honed by countless battles, screamed danger.

Someone seemed to have prepared an ambush for him. The carefully closed windows, the subtle shift in the air pressure, it was a trap.

"A cultist again?" Klaus muttered, his hand freezing on the doorknob. The thought sent a jolt of adrenaline through him. He had thought he was safe, secure in his anonymity. He was wrong.

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