Fire Mage

At the same time, an eerie silence fell over the smokehouse. The women huddled in the corners, covering themselves with torn blankets. The bodies of Targa's men lay motionless on the floor, blood soaking into the wooden boards.

Targa, still pinned to the bed, winced as Edith twisted the blade slightly. His breath came in gasps.

"Speak," she said. Her voice was soft but cold. "How many more leaders rule this slum?"

Targa clenched his jaw, trying to act tough, but her calm stare made his skin crawl.

Damn it! Who is she? She killed my men mercilessly! Should I tell the truth or find a way to escape? Multiple thoughts raced through his mind in an instant.

"…Five," he finally muttered. "Five more."

Edith didn't blink. "Where?"

He swallowed hard. "Each one controls a part of the slum. One runs an assassination group. Another deals in drugs. One launders money and traps poor folks in debt. One forces kids to beg and work in the streets. The last one leads a gang of thieves and pickpockets."

"And you?"

"I… I handle the girls," he admitted, lowering his eyes. "Prostitution."

Edith didn't respond immediately. Then, slowly, she pulled the blade from his hand. He groaned in pain and clutched the wound.

"You'll take me to them," she said. "One by one."

A hesitant look crossed Targa's face.

Why is she targeting us? Maybe she's after the Holy Knight? Should I sell him out too?

"I-I can… But I advise you to think twice, ma'am. We're backed by someone powerful."

Edith didn't look surprised.

After all, no empire would let rats fester in its domain without reason.

"You guys maintain law and order in the slums, huh?" she asked.

"Y-Yes, ma'am."

He glanced down, hesitating.

"There's someone who oversees us. We don't know his name, but he's a powerful Holy Knight of the Sacred Empire. Whenever he appears, we have to assemble at the Orphanage Building and give him 50 shares of our earnings."

A Holy Knight involved in shady business?

"So he's a thug too, huh?" Edith remarked.

"N-No, ma'am. He's strong. Before he showed up, the slum was ruled by a single gang leader named David. We were all part of his gang. David was a Rank-5 Mystic, basically the ruler of this borough. He even had connections with nobles. But one day, this Knight appeared out of nowhere. It wasn't even a fight—he beat David to death and took over."

A Holy Knight playing villain? Edith grew suspicious.

A Rank-5—possibly Rank-6—Mystic could easily become the ruler of a small kingdom. Why would such a person mess with thugs?

His goal isn't money... So why take control of these gangs?

"Did he give you any strange orders?" she asked.

Targa broke into a sweat and nodded.

"H-He told us to distribute the medicinal drugs he provides to people in the slums and even other districts. Recently, these drugs have become popular across the empire because of their effects and high price."

"Medicinal drugs? What kind?" Edith's suspicion deepened.

Before he could reply, the door creaked open.

A blonde-haired woman entered, followed by dozens of men—Targa's gang members. About forty in total. They froze when they saw the bodies inside, eyes wide in shock.

The next moment, all of them unsheathed their weapons and pointed them at Edith.

Targa pushed himself up on trembling arms and raised a hand weakly. "Stop! She's not an enemy."

The room grew tense.

He glanced at Edith, then turned to his men. "Listen up! From now on, she's your new employer. Treat her with respect. She's a special guest—watch your words and actions."

The men murmured, confused and afraid. But none stepped forward.

"What about the bodies?" one asked quietly.

"Slum deaths are nothing new," Targa replied, already dressing with shaky hands. "Dump them in the canal. No one will care."

Meanwhile, Edith picked up the dagger.

"Do you have the drug?" she asked.

Targa nodded stiffly, ran to a nearby cupboard, and retrieved a glass jar filled with a grayish, ash-like powder.

"Here it is." He handed it to her.

Edith opened the jar and inspected it.

[Name: Nyxirum

Type: Supplementary Medicinal Drug

Effects: Nyxirum is an alchemically synthesized drug originally developed to enhance physical strength and pain resistance. It remains harmless under normal conditions and grants a temporary boost in strength and pain tolerance.

Caution: When exposed to chaos mana, it mutates the user, gradually transforming them into a demonic Imp.]

A demonic Imp, huh? Is this the work of a demon?

"Let's go. We'll deal with the other leaders first. Then I'll decide how to handle that Knight."

She plans to face the Holy Knight? Surprise flickered across Targa's face.

I don't know how strong she is, but she's definitely Rank-5.

With that, Edith and Targa led the group through the filthy alleys.

They didn't wait for nightfall.

The first target was a run-down warehouse, guarded by rough-looking men. It belonged to the gang responsible for forced labor and child begging.

Targa raised his voice. "Stand down! We're here under new orders!"

The gang leader inside refused—until Edith stepped forward and broke his nose with a single, precise blow. He screamed, collapsing to his knees after another strike to the stomach.

The others saw her strength and immediately dropped their weapons, trembling.

They knew their leader wasn't just anyone—he was a Rank-4 Mystic.

"Submit or die," Edith said coldly.

At the same time, oppressive pressure filled the room.

They submitted without a word.

The next base belonged to the debt gang. They resisted more—but after Edith smashed the leader's skull against a stone wall, the rest begged to join Targa's side.

Gang by gang, she repeated the method.

By 5 p.m., the entire slum had been subdued. Only one gang leader—the head of the debt gang—had died. The rest surrendered after witnessing what Edith could do.

In total, a thousand individuals—each at least Rank-1 in strength—came under her control.

Now, the slum borough was quiet. No screams. No fighting.

Only the wind moved slowly through the narrow paths.

In front of a burned chapel at the slum's center, Targa stood beside Edith, looking out at the crowd.

Almost fifty people now—leaders from each gang—watched her in silence.

Many had committed serious crimes. Some were murderers, hiding under false identities.

Edith's right eye revealed it all—their strengths, weaknesses, and parts of their history.

I should put some shackles on them.

She muttered a spell under her breath—[Curse of the Overlord]—casting it on everyone.

"Listen up, everyone!" she called out.

"From now on, you're forbidden from speaking about me or anything I'm about to say. The drug you've been selling through kids and prostitutes—stop it. Immediately."

Everyone looked around in confusion.

"But ma'am, most of our earnings come from those drugs. How will we survive without money?" asked a short, lean man.

"A big opportunity will come. Wait for it. But anyone who dares sell this drug again will die by my hand." Her gaze silenced them.

"Is this place safe?" she asked, looking around.

Targa nodded.

"This used to be an orphanage when David ruled. Later, Alphonse took it over and started training the kids. No one comes here but us, ma'am."

"Where are the kids?" she asked, noticing only a few hiding nearby.

A bulky man with a scar on his cheek stepped forward anxiously.

"T-They return around 7 p.m., ma'am. After selling the drugs, they give us the money. We feed and shelter them."

Edith frowned.

"Are they capable of gathering information?"

"That's actually their second job, ma'am."

She nodded and gave her next order.

"For the next two days, I want every member spread across the city. Gather all the information you can on the United Council. Join taverns, shops—send the kids, too. I want every detail about the council members attending the meeting."

"What if we're caught?" Targa asked.

Edith didn't answer right away. She looked down at the blood-stained ground, then raised her eyes.

"We start tomorrow. Train the kids, prostitutes, and your members. Sort the gangs. Bring order. I want informants ready to move across the city within a week."

The wind picked up slightly.

"Council members aren't people commoners can approach, ma'am," Targa interjected. "They stay in luxury inns, shop in elite districts, and attend noble banquets. If we want to get close, we'll need recommendations—or money."

He's not wrong. But nobles never hire slum people as servants. And etiquette wasn't something that could be learned overnight.

"I don't want you learning their hobbies or personalities. Just track their movements—who they meet, where they go, how long they stay. Walk the streets they stay on. Do odd jobs nearby. Watch everything. If they leave the city, follow them. Record everything."

Targa didn't fully understand her intention, but he nodded silently.