Apocalypse: becoming the hidden Ruler

The tavern owner leaned in slightly. "If you don't pass this next test, no gang will take you in. You could stay at my inn—Black Powder won't risk killing you *here*. But eventually, you'll have to step outside." He smirked. "And there's always a way around Morris's rules when no one's watching."

Axel's lips curled slightly. Of course. On the surface, everyone played by Morris's rules. But this was Sin City. The moment Morris turned his back, the bloodshed continued.

"Boss, how much for a room?"

"Five raw stones."

Gabriel grinned. "That's not bad."

"One night."

Gabriel froze. His smile vanished. Five raw stones for one night? That was the equivalent of ten grand in Krythos—enough for a luxury suite.

"The people who stay in my inn are usually lying low, waiting for things to settle. But in the end," the tavern owner shrugged, "you'll also need a crew to back you up."

Axel drummed his fingers against the bar. "Will they send a third-level awakener after me?"

If so, there was no need to hesitate—he'd have Gabriel pay for the room, and he'd bunker down.

The tavern owner blinked, then burst into laughter. "What would be the point of that?"

He shook his head. "If you accept the challenge, you follow Baird's rules—same level, life-or-death fight."

Axel raised an eyebrow. "Same level?" That was… interesting.

"There's a test before the fight," the owner explained. "It's just to determine your rank. That's all that matters."

So even if he was a low-tier First Ranker, the other side could send someone from the high-tier First Rank. Tough luck.

But that was within Axel's acceptable range. If he played his cards right, he could hold his own against a low-tier Second Ranker.

"How long do I have?"

The tavern owner smirked. "Looks like you're accepting."

Axel just gave him a look.

"Three days," the man said. "That's the most I can buy you."

Three days? That should be enough. Axel glanced at the life crystal forming outside the tavern, quietly calculating the time. "Alright. I appreciate the help. But let's be honest—you wouldn't do this for free. What's your price?"

The tavern owner smirked in satisfaction. He liked dealing with smart people. He hated the type who assumed a little kindness meant they could milk him for everything, the ones who took generosity for granted.

"I want this." He pulled out a small red pill and dangled it in front of Axel.

The scent was *very* familiar. Axel's eyebrows lifted. "Force-Recovery Pills?"

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The tavern owner snorted. "Nonono, those cost what?"

"Five hundred thousand."

"Exactly. This?" The old man grinned. "In Sin City, it's only a hundred and fifty grand—and it works better than a Force-Recovery Pill."

Axel narrowed his eyes. That's impossible. Force-Recovery Pills were developed by Krythos Deep Sea Pharmaceuticals. They controlled every aspect of distribution, and the price had never budged.

The tavern owner chuckled. "I know what you're thinking. But this is Sin City. There's always something beyond your imagination. It's called the Exotic Beast Pill."

He tapped the pill against the counter. "Word is, a mysterious awakener manufactures these right here in Sin City. Sells them exclusively to Krythos. But he never shows his face—he just distributes the goods to the gangs."

Axel could see it now. If this pill really worked better than a Force-Recovery Pill at a fraction of the price, the profit margins would be obscene. The gangs must be making a killing. But if someone as well-connected as the tavern owner couldn't get his hands on it, then it wouldn't be easy for Axel either.

The old man smirked, reading his thoughts. He slipped the pill back into his pocket. "You're young. Even in Krythos, you're a genius. If you make it through this city alive, you'll have real power one day. I'm just making an investment in the future."

For a man like him—who had seen too much, lived too long—helping a rising talent was just another business move.

Axel thought for a moment, then nodded. "Alright. If I get my hands on these pills—"

"Exotic Beast Pills."

"Right. If I gain control over them, I'll make sure you get distribution and sales rights."

The tavern owner grinned. "Pleasure doing business."

Their hands clasped in a firm shake.

.....

That night, Axel and Gabriel booked two rooms despite the steep price. Standing outside, staring at the shimmering life crystal, Axel exhaled deeply.

"Three days is tight," he muttered. "But it should be enough."

With the right resources, Axel could push himself to his limits. His name was already spreading through Baird Street. Word traveled fast in the underworld, and the moment he walked into that tavern, he had become a subject of conversation.

Just as the tavern owner predicted, none of the other gangs in Baird had made a move yet. They were all watching.

Black Powder had issued the challenge. If Axel lost—if he died—then they wouldn't have to lift a finger. But if he won? If he proved himself? Then the moment his fight was over, the other gangs would scramble to claim him.

Midnight, inside the headquarters of the Black Powder Gang, several of its key figures gathered around a screen, watching the footage of Axel's fight. They replayed it three times.

One man exhaled through his nose. "From the looks of it… 'Pork Nine' got cocky."

"Yeah," another agreed. "The kid didn't have the raw strength to kill 'Pork Nine' in a single second. It wasn't brute force—it was strategy."

Their eyes remained locked on the screen, studying every move.

When the first reports came in, the Black Powder Gang assumed Pork Nine had just been unlucky—picking a fight with the wrong guy at the wrong time.

But after watching the video, they understood. "This guy's an auxiliary awakener," one of them muttered, rewinding the footage. "His ability has to be some kind of short-term speed and strength boost."

"Yeah. His first strike only knocked Pork Nine down—it didn't kill him. The real danger was his gun. That thing's not standard-issue. It's modified. Too powerful."

For most awakeners past the first-level intermediate grade, regular guns were barely a threat. Civilians couldn't hit them, and even if they did, small-caliber bullets wouldn't do much—maybe some bleeding, at worst. Awakeners with enhanced physical evolution? They wouldn't even break a bone.

But Axel's gun had punched a hole straight through Pork Nine.

"There are no weapon restrictions in a Sin City duel," someone pointed out. In truth, awakeners carried all sorts of weird and deadly weapons—some infused with Force, some crafted from exotic materials. The strongest carried Original Instruments, artifacts capable of turning battles in an instant. If you could get one in Sin City, it was your ability.

As his men continued debating, Zachary—the leader of the Black Powder Gang—finally snapped his fingers. "Enough talk." His voice cut through the room. "The guy's dead. He's got three days left to live."

That was his final decision. "I called Harrison back."

A murmur of excitement rippled through the room.

Harrison. His rank within the gang wasn't much higher than the second-tier elders, but his reputation was something else entirely.

He was an out-and-out first-level awakener. For some reason, he hadn't managed to break through to the second level, but his Force had already reached the peak of the first tier—over 300.