Cultivating Talents [LitRPG Mana-cultivation]

"She said to meet her around here," Hector said, sticking his head out of the alleyway. The front of The Old Hammer buzzed with activity. Drunks shouted at one another while working men laughed, sipping on their beer. "The Old Hammer is right there."

"Did she give you a time?" Emela asked, her voice muffled by the wooden mask covering her face.

"She just said four days, and that they'd keep an eye out for us," he said, his voice equally muffled.

The midday sun beat down on the street. People walked by, going about their business, and the bells of shop doors rang as they opened and closed. They'd stick out a lot anywhere else, but in the slums, people always had something to hide.

Claire wouldn't have lied, would she? No, she wants us as fodder. She'd have no reason to just up and abandon her end of the agreement.

Hector dipped back into the alleyway. His hands brushed across the rough, cracked stone of a house leaning to one side. He glanced at the two men who walked by the alley, with packs bouncing against their backs and metal sticks hanging on their hips.

"—I'm telling you the Horfrost are going to take the north of Papyrus soon. I can feel it."

"You're crazy. The gang just needs to reorganise a bit, then those Horfrost fools will be dead in a gutter."

Hector narrowed his eyes at the two men as they continued walking down the street and out of sight. Collar Gang. Garbed in failing rags, they didn't exactly shout 'we're part of a gang'. But the pipes and the conversation gave it away.

"Are you alright, Hector?" Emela asked, resting a hand on his shoulder.

"Y-Yes, I'm fine. Just a little distracted is all."

As Emela went to speak, a brown-haired boy stepped from around the corner at the end of the alleyway. His brown shirtsleeves were rolled up, and a pair of loose-fitting breeches swayed as he walked. He stopped as he spotted the three of them.

His gaze moved from Hector to the two girls as tension set in. "Are you Hector?" he said, jerking his chin forward.

"Yeah," Hector said, stepping up.

System, scan him.

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///: Scan complete. Target cultivation is Gravity Forging Two. No Talents have been detected.
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The boy's eyes crawled over him, pausing on his hair, before slipping over his mask. Turning his head to Emela and Nyx, he raised a brow. "Are these the only ones you're bringing?"

"Yeah," Hector said. "Is that a problem?"

Wind rushed through the alleyway, ruffling the boy's hair. Shrugging his shoulders, the boy turned. "Follow me. Claire wants to meet you first."

Hector glanced towards the two girls. Emela shrugged, the motion casual, almost dismissive. Nyx, as usual, remained still, her gaze glued to the boy. Who knew what she was thinking?

I guess Claire—is—having a discussion. Just not a very detailed one.

Hector walked after the boy, his sandals slapping against the damp cobblestone, Emela and Nyx in tow. Hopefully, the meeting spot wasn't too far. But then she'd wanted to meet here, near The Old Hammer. The Collar Gang safe house wasn't that far away, so the Scoda Gang's meeting spot shouldn't be either.

The four of them spent a few minutes walking through the alleys, splashing through growing black puddles and holding their breath as they moved past choked gutters. The Scoda Gang boy's lips stayed sealed the entire time, not even a word of what to expect. But finally, they pulled up to a rotting brown door.

"One moment," the boy said, stepping forward. He rapped his knuckles against the wood. Each tap was dull and heavy, but there was a slight rhythm to it. Was that a code?

A moment later, a small hatch on the front of the door squeaked open, and a pair of brown eyes peered out. "What do you need?"

"A load of butter, two hens, and a leg of lamb," the boy replied.

Hector frowned. Was he shopping before they got to the meeting? A second later, a latch behind the door slammed, and a heavy groan sounded as the door opened. From behind it, a large man stepped out.

His white shirt clung to his skin, his muscles rippling as he crossed his arms. The thick breeches hung loosely on his legs, much like the brown-haired boy. The man's gaze swept over Hector and the girls before moving back to the boy. "Are these the ones Claire was expecting?"

The boy nodded.

The man gave Hector a last glance before moving back inside; the boy followed, gesturing for them to do the same.

Following the boy, Hector's nerves pulled tight. If they were going to do something, this would be the best time. But if they tried, half of them would be dead before anything happened.

I just hope nothing goes wrong. I don't feel like growing the list of gangs I have to take care of.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Eventually, after moving up several flights of stairs, they walked into a rather run-down room. No one had tried to attack them yet. A brief pang of hope settled in Hector's chest.

The room wasn't too large; the whole thing would probably comfortably fit maybe five to six people. Hanging from poles, the curtains were brownish-green, mildew having burrowed deep within their fabric. The scent of decay and rot clung through the air, thick and slimy; Hector could practically feel it as he breathed.

Why the hell was this their base of operations?

He wanted to raise his hands to cover his nose, but it would just seep around the edges of the mask. A pair of footsteps sounded a moment later, and two girls walked out of a side door, stepping into the room.

"I'm glad you came to meet us," Claire said, her black hair swaying to a stop behind her. A playful smile tugged at her lips as her black eyes flicked towards Emela and Nyx. "And I see you brought some friends."

"Well, you said I could bring people."

"Oh, I wasn't complaining," she said, shifting. Her brown leather chest piece hugged her form as she moved. "If anything, I'm a little disappointed that you didn't bring more people."

I'm sure you are. It would have been a much bigger distraction that way.

"We will be more than enough," Hector said. His eyes turned to Natalie.

The ex-Ravisher stood rooted in place, her eyes almost burning as they locked onto Hector. A new tattoo covered her old one. The Ravisher design turned into something that seemed even less coherent. It seemed she had left after all.

"I'm sure you will," Claire said.

She stepped over to the one piece of furniture in the room: a bookshelf. Its shelves lay barren, and nothing but dust clung to their rotting surface. Reaching out, Claire brushed a finger across a shelf and brought it in front of her face.

"Funny thing, dust. It comes from nowhere but seems to be everywhere." She shook her head. Pursing her lips, Claire blew the dust away, and her gaze slid towards Hector. "Now then, I'm going to need you and your friends to remove your cute little masks. It's making me ever so nervous, not knowing who I'm working with."

Hector stilled. The air grew heavier as the boy who led them in stepped up behind them. Natalie reached for the dagger at her side—an oddity in the slums. She had to have stolen it.

"We aren't removing anything," Emela said, turning her head slightly to Claire.

The black-haired girl raised her chin a little, her hair falling off her shoulders. She tilted her head to the side, regarding Emela with a little interest. "I don't believe I asked you if you wanted to. You never know who's hiding under a mask," she said, turning her head to Hector. "I can't even be sure you're the same one from last night."

"Can't you tell from my hair and my voice?" Hector said. His hair was probably the most recognisable thing about him; not too many others in the slums had white hair.

"A little dye and a voice-altering talisman. Not too expensive, and from the look and dress of these two, I'd say you aren't struggling too much for coin."

Stepping forward, Natalie popped her blade from her sheath. "Do as she says now. I don't mind killing you right here."

From the way you're talking, I'm pretty sure you know it's me. But then why does she want me to remove the mask? Does she just want to see Emela and Nyx's faces, or is it something else?

"Alright, hold on," Hector said, raising his hands. He grabbed the end of his mask, slowly removing it from his face. "It's me, alright. You can see that. No tricks here."

"And them?" Natalie said, her gaze bouncing between Nyx and Emela.

Hector glanced back at the two. Emela shook her head, her braided ponytails swaying as she did. Nyx didn't even budge.

Turning back to Claire, Hector shook his head. "I'm all the proof you need; these two don't matter."

"I'm going to enjoy running you through," Natalie said, stepping forward.

The girl pulled on her blade. Hector reached into the back of his mind and prepared to activate [Mana Forge].

"Stop!" Claire yelled, causing Natalie to freeze. The ex-Ravisher then turned to Claire with a confused look. Smiling, Claire let out a chuckle and shrugged. "He's right. Seeing his face is more than enough. I can't force him to do too much." She then turned to Hector. "Now that we know who we are working with, I'll let you know how this is going to go."

I swear, these two are insane. The sooner this is over, the better.

Claire nodded at the boy who stood behind Hector, and he scurried forward. "This here is P," she said, resting a hand on the boy's shoulder. "You'll enter from the back of the safe house with him."

"Is that it?" Hector asked.

"Now, now, let me finish," Claire said, wagging a finger.

The curtains flapped as a light breeze blew through. Natalie moved back to Claire's side, the ex-Ravisher's eyes burning into Hector. A light scratching came from the wall. Rats were nearby.

Emela stepped a little closer to Hector.

"Where was I?" Claire said, giving Emela a teasing smile. "Ah, yeah. You four will make up one team, while team one—which is me and a few others—will attack the front. Team three will be in the rear, ready to provide support."

"You're just going to walk right up to the front door and break in?" Hector asked.

"Yeah."

A small rat ran behind Claire as Hector held her gaze. That plan didn't sound like it would end well at all.

"Don't worry, we're more than capable." Smiling, Claire nodded at the boy who'd led them here, P. "Time to get things rolling."

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A light drizzle poured from the sky, the water droplets cool as they rolled off Hector's cloak and splashed to the floor. Anxiety bubbled in Hector's chest as his gaze wandered around the back exit. Claire had said he'd know when to begin. Whatever that meant.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Emela whispered.

Hector turned to the girl. Her blue eyes shimmered with concern as she rested against the ageing brick of the askew house. Hector sighed. "We're already here. Nothing else we can do at this point. Just get what we need and get out."

P stood off to the side, his eyes scanning the area, as his hand picked at a loose string coming from his sleeve. The boy spoke little. When he talked, he spoke in clipped, fast sentences, as if talking to them was more of a chore than anything else.

"Do you think he'll be a problem?" Emela asked, her gaze shifting from the boy to Hector.

Hector shook his head. "I don't think so. From what I've seen so far, the Scoda Gang wants this to work. I can't say anything about after that. But it should be fine."

"I'll keep an eye on him either way. There has to be a reason Claire sent him with us; we could have done this alone."

"I—"

As Hector opened his mouth to speak, an explosion tore through the air—drowning out the rain, shaking the ground beneath his feet, and unleashing a wave of shouts and screams.

"It's time," P said, pushing off the wall and taking off into a sprint. His boots slammed through the growing puddles as he closed in on the back door.

Hector raised his hand, gesturing for the two girls to follow. It was time to get this show on the road.

P leapt into the air. His foot cracked into the heavy wooden door, bursting it off its hinges. It flew back and slammed into the wall, a scream of pain following. Had there been someone behind it?

If there was, P didn't care. He rushed past the door and moved farther in, not even glancing at the person he'd crushed with a door. Not that he needed to.

Hector paused as he stepped into the building. His eyes rested on the groaning boy, the door covering half his body, before moving to his hands as a small pill rolled from them. Was that a Ham Pill?