My Borderline Supervillain-Slash-Hero System-Chapter 58: The Fight Before the Tavern

It turned out the shopkeeper was well worth their time.

Within minutes, multiple carts loaded with treasures clattered to a halt outside the shop. Gold-rimmed boxes, mana-imbued crates, and sealed chests piled atop one another, attracting curious glances from passersby.

The shopkeeper, followed closely by his now-diligent assistant, stepped forward with a slight bow. "Miss, everything has been gathered. These are all the treasures currently available in Galbaza."

Erlin stepped out of the shop and surveyed the carts. She didn’t speak at first—just walked past each one, her eyes flicking from one container to the next. Finally, a soft smile crept across her lips.

The shopkeeper noticed it instantly and exhaled with visible relief. She’s satisfied.

"Alright," she said coolly. "I’ll buy everything. Begin evaluating the prices and let me know when you reach a total." She turned and strolled back inside.

The shopkeeper followed eagerly, pen and slate in hand, but asked, "Miss, shall I arrange a Dragon Horse carriage to carry the goods?"

Erlin turned to Shelby with a mischievous glint in her eye. "Senior Brother Shel, we’re going to need your pouch."

Shelby raised a brow. "You sure you want to trust me with that?"

Zane gave him a subtle nudge.

"Fine, fine. Here." Shelby handed over the sleek silk pouch. "Boy, we’re filthy rich now."

Erlin smirked. "This is my dowry. Naturally, everything belongs to my husband."

"Right. But the pouch is mine," Shelby added quickly. "So technically, whatever’s inside is mine, too."

Erlin rolled her eyes and ignored him.

She ordered the shopkeeper to begin packing everything into crates and boxes, making it easier to transfer into the storage pouch. As the goods vanished into the magically expansive silk pouch, neither the shopkeeper nor his assistant dared speak a word of awe—though their wide eyes betrayed their amazement.

When the last crate disappeared into the pouch, Erlin handed it to Zane.

"Dowry is sacred in my culture," she said softly. "Don’t you dare give any of this to your mentor."

Shelby scoffed. "Greedy little wife you’ve got there."

The shopkeeper returned with the final bill.

Erlin didn’t bat an eye. She tossed down multiple piles of notes, enough to double the quoted price. "For your honesty and efficiency," she added.

The man bowed so low his nose nearly touched the counter. "Thank you, miss. You honor this humble merchant."

Zane suddenly remembered something. "Actually... can you still arrange a Dragonic Horse carriage?"

Before the shopkeeper could answer, Erlin interjected. "I heard almost anything can be arranged in Galbaza, right?"

The man nodded vigorously.

"Then what about a Phoenix Carriage?" she asked. "By tomorrow morning."

The shopkeeper’s eyes widened slightly. "A rare request, but... consider it done. I’ll pull every string I can."

"Perfect," Erlin said, walking out with the boys in tow.

Later that night, the trio found a humble but well-kept tavern tucked into a quieter corner of Galbaza. They rented two rooms—one for the couple, one for Shelby—and prepared to rest for the night. Tomorrow would demand their full strength, especially for Zane.

But peace never lasted long in Galbaza.

The extravagant spending hadn’t gone unnoticed. Word of the three strangers who bought up half the town’s wealth had spread like wildfire. Greedy eyes turned their way. By midnight, thieves, mercenaries, and outlaws had already begun tracking them.

There had been a skirmish in the alleyways nearby. Dozens of low-ranking thugs clashed, but in the end, only five individuals emerged from the bloodbath.

Now, they stood silently in front of the tavern under the moonlight.

Three of them wore black robes and silver masks—silent and lethal.

Beside them stood a woman clad in a red, body-hugging dress, her exposed skin inscribed with runes and her lips curled in a wicked smirk.

And leading the group was an old man, hunched slightly, walking with a carved black cane that thudded rhythmically with every step.

Their auras oozed malice. Even standing still, the oppressive pressure they exuded made the air heavy inside the tavern.

Guests inside froze mid-drink. The tavern keeper nearly dropped his glass. A bard stopped playing. Conversations died in their throats.

Someone whispered, "Who the hell are they?"

No answer came.

The tavern-keeper stepped out into the night, his legs trembling beneath him. His voice cracked as he spoke, "C-Can I help you, dear lady and gentlemen?"

The old man, draped in flowing black robes and leaning heavily on a carved walking cane, stepped forward. From his inner coat, he withdrew a wrinkled parchment. With a flick, it unfurled to reveal three sketches—Zane, Shelby, and Erlin.

He held it up for the trembling tavern-keeper to see. "Are they staying here?"

The keeper gulped and nodded without hesitation.

"Good," the seductress said, her lips curving into a sultry smile. Her eyes, however, glinted with something far colder. "Which rooms?"

"I-I’ll go," one of the masked men offered, his voice calm. In the next second, his shadow flickered and he vanished into the tavern like a silent wraith.

The others remained outside, waiting with an almost festive air. They expected resistance—and they were hoping for it.

The moment dragged.

Then, a loud boom shattered the night.

A black figure blasted through the upper window of the tavern and slammed into the dusty road. His body rolled once, then lay still—his head completely missing.

Dead. Without a doubt.

The four looked at the corpse without emotion.

One of the other masked figures chuckled. "Well, this is getting fun."

"Why don’t we all go?" the old man suggested, tapping his cane twice on the ground. "Let’s be careful now. We can’t afford another idiot."

"Agreed," the second masked man said, vanishing in a blur.

But before they could make another move, a figure burst through the window above—graceful, yet powerful.

Zane.

He flipped mid-air and landed heavily in front of the tavern. When his boots struck the ground, a shockwave spread out, rattling the stones beneath them. The soil cracked slightly beneath him, his feet sinking three inches deep.

"Tch," he muttered, pulling his boots free from the dirt. "Still not used to carrying twelve tons."

The four attackers squinted, puzzled by the tremor. Then, one by one, they sniffed the air—subtle, instinctive.

Pure-blood human.

Greed flared in their eyes. A catch like him? Priceless. But he had to be taken alive and intact.

Zane glanced at each of them, calmly analyzing their stats. A few points below Erlin, he judged. Strong, but manageable.

"I’ve got something important tomorrow," he said dryly, cracking his neck. "Let’s make this quick. All of you—come at once."

He waved them forward like a bored schoolteacher.

The two masked men flickered—appearing on either side in a pincer formation. Their blades gleamed as they moved to disable.

Zane sidestepped with casual ease, ducking the first and letting the second’s blade whistle past his back.

Then, the seductress joined in, aiming for Zane’s side.

Before she could land a hit, Erlin flashed between them, parrying the strike with a snap of her wrist. The clash sent the woman skidding back several feet, her seductive smile replaced with a scowl.

"You’ll have to deal with me," Erlin said coldly, mana surging around her fingertips.

The old man narrowed his eyes, raising his cane. He murmured under his breath, "Water Style: Prison Sphere."

Tiny droplets gathered from the air and spiraled together—forming a swirling sphere of compressed water around Zane, encasing him completely.

From inside the watery prison, Zane calmly raised his hand and flicked the inside wall.

BOOM!

The prison exploded into steam, evaporating in an instant.

The old man staggered, gripping his cane. "Impossible..."

"Still think I’m prey?" Zane’s voice came from within the mist.

But before another spell could be cast, the old man froze. His gaze shifted—upward.

There, on the rooftop of the tavern, Shelby was perched like a lounging panther, one leg dangling, chin resting on his palm. He gave a lazy wave.

The old man felt an incredulous pressure from Shelby and he couldn’t help but squinted his eyes.

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