Luke strolled through the streets of the Safe Zone. Inside, he couldn’t shake the feeling that everyone’s eyes were on him, but he knew it was just in his head. The place had changed since his last visit. It felt alive. People didn’t seem as beaten down, and the air no longer carried that heavy weight of desolation.

He passed wooden carts piled with vegetables, pulled by weary but determined hands. Shops dotted the streets now, not just the area near Bastion. He even spotted a few taverns, and people laughing as they played at target shooting.

Looked like Bartholomew had done a lot to reshape the place since the ant attack. The structures had improved too, with better houses, more watchtowers, and guards posted everywhere. He wandered into a large open market.

What Luke was after was simple: arrows. Not the flimsy kind, but something crafted from tough material. He knew Bartholomew’s people scavenged monster parts and had their smiths and artisans forge weapons from them. Luke wanted as many arrows as he could get his hands on, preferably Uncommon or Rare. Filling the Warden Captain with arrows was part of the plan. With the right shot, one that could hold both stamina and mana, the combination would be lethal.

“Fresh apples!” a vendor shouted from his stall.

Luke had packed his bag with goods he could trade, such as clothes, bottles, and even paper he had picked up in the capital.

“Fabrics! Beautiful new fabrics! Trouble with the cold? I’ve got boar fur coats!” another hawker called out.

The place was crowded. Luke moved through it in his disguise, blond hair and an eyepatch. His storage item, the necklace, was tucked inside the armband on his arm, out of sight. If a guard decided to search him, it would be the backpack they would check.

“Good morning, customer,” a merchant greeted.

“Just browsing,” Luke replied with a smile, eyes scanning the food on display.

Out of caution, he stuck to vendors he had never dealt with back when he worked in Haven. Not that it mattered much, since there were plenty of new faces selling now.

‘Afraid of running into Allison… or someone else you know?’

The voice of Artemis slid into his mind.

How the hell are you talking in my head?

‘I know, weird, right? Ever since you improved your mana comprehension, I can do this now! Of course, the necklace has to be in direct contact with you, so it wouldn’t work if you left me somewhere.’

He picked up an apple from the stall.

This is creepy as hell.

‘Perks of having a living soulbound item,’ she teased.

She wasn’t wrong. He was uneasy about running into anyone from the Haven, especially Allison. Seeing her wasn’t part of the plan, not before taking the second fortress. He had intended to send a message for her to meet him there after it was secured. Now that meeting would have to wait. And for some reason, the thought of seeing her again made him hesitant.

If I had left the barrier without anyone knowing, it would have been easier to talk to her. But now everyone knows I’m alive. They’re probably hunting me across the Wild Zone like lunatics. At least she knows I’m still breathing.

Luke kept moving between the stalls, blending in, pretending to be just another face in the crowd while staying fully alert.

My enemies have no idea I’m right in their territory. The obvious guess would be that I’m hiding out in the Wild Zone. Why would I come straight to the most dangerous place? My plans are so unpredictable they’d never believe I’m here.

‘That’s because they’d never imagine you’d be this much of an idiot,’ she shot back.

Before heading to his real objective, he stopped at a stall.

“I’ve got a few things I picked up in the Wild Zone,” he told the vendor.

From his pack, he pulled out shirt buttons, a few clothes, and some animal pelts.

“Will you take these for an apple?”

The man looked over the pile. “You’ve got stuff worth more than just an apple. Why not take a bit more?”

Luke grabbed a few extra pieces of fruit. “Things have been livelier around here lately, huh?” he asked casually, like any ordinary passerby. “I remember when we used to live in fear of the Renegades.”

He tossed the line out like bait, mixing one topic with another.

“Oh, yeah,” the vendor said, smiling. “Ever since that Marshall guy died, things have been better than ever. Even Bartholomew seems different. Guess living every day worried the Renegades might kill you would make anyone crazy.”

Luke almost asked if Bartholomew had been going out more lately, but that felt like shouting I’m here to kill Bartholomew. So he kept the conversation harmless, picking up scraps of useful information. After the ant attack and Marshall’s death, Bartholomew’s leadership had apparently shifted. No more tribute collection, and now his men guarded the entire Safe Zone instead of just Bastion’s surroundings. On top of that, he had started selling surplus crops from his farm, exclusive seeds from event reward chests, bringing in more merchants than ever.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Now he was the kind of man everyone liked. Turning the crowd against him would be a nightmare.

“You should see a healer. For the right price, they can fix your eye, kid,” the vendor said.

A healer? So now Bartholomew even had healers available to the public? Things really had changed since Luke’s last time here.

“Thanks. I’m saving up for that,” Luke replied, grateful. “Gonna try finding a job that doesn’t involve almost getting killed in the Wild Zone.”

“Here, take another piece of fruit,” the man offered warmly. “Don’t let your eye stay damaged too long, or the only fix will be a race-level upgrade.”

Luke accepted the fruit. “Thank you, sir.”

“Tell you what, if you talk to Eddie at the lumber shop, he’s always looking for someone to chop trees or haul logs. Those bastards with storage items are charging a fortune, so there’s always work for anyone willing to sweat.”

Luke smiled and nodded, doing his best to look friendly. “I’ll stop by later, sir.”

From there, he kept wandering among the stalls. No rushing toward the weapons dealers, he moved like any other customer, following a meandering path. The weapons stalls were set right in front of Bastion’s gates. Luke approached with every sense sharp, watching the nearby guards. As he got closer, he saw blacksmiths at work, some hammering, others sharpening blades. The area was swarming with guards. Bartholomew wasn’t stupid; weapons stalls this valuable stayed within Bastion’s protection.

He walked past displays of axes, swords, hatchets, pickaxes. One stall in particular caught his eye, neatly arranged, with rows of arrows laid out in wooden cases. He almost whistled. The variety was impressive; he hadn’t realized there were so many types.

“No touching the samples, sir,” the vendor warned.

“Of course,” Luke said, pulling his hand back.

He used Identify.

[Iron Arrow (Common)]: A shaft of soft wood tipped with iron, offering greater penetration and lethality compared to wood or stone points.

“The shaft’s meant to be fragile,” the vendor explained. “See, when it hits, it’s supposed to break, leaving the iron head lodged inside. Makes it a lot harder for someone to just yank it out.”

Luke listened closely. I didn’t even know that was a thing.

[Wooden-Tip Arrow (Common)]: A simple arrow with a wooden point, ideal for hunting small or fragile animals, causing minimal structural damage to the prey.

“This one’s so you don’t ruin the animal’s hide,” the man muttered. “No one hunting a rabbit wants to wreck the thing in the process,” he added with a small laugh.

Luke kept up the act, inspecting arrows he already knew looked flimsy. He was just playing the part of a curious browser, even around the dangerous ones.

Would it look suspicious if I bought a thousand arrows?

‘Oh, why not pick up two thousand swords and a thousand shields while you’re at it? You should’ve pitched that to the Renegades.’ Artemis’s voice snickered in his mind.

He stopped at one tucked between the others.

[Reinforced Iron Arrow (Uncommon)]: A shaft of sturdy wood tipped with reinforced iron, capable of piercing armor and withstanding heavier impacts, making it more durable and effective against enemies with stronger defenses.

I bet this one could handle stamina mixed with mana.

As Luke leaned in, someone approached. A man with a monocle.

“Something catch your eye?” a voice asked.

Luke turned and instantly recognized him. Oh, shit.

It was Oswald. Bartholomew’s administrator.

Luke forced a smile, straightened his posture, and adjusted his tone. “I’m looking for stronger arrows,” he said evenly. “Something for bringing down a few dangerous creatures in the Wild Zone.”

Oswald began walking, leading him between stalls. Luke quickly realized they all belonged to Bartholomew.

“What kind of creature?” Oswald asked. “Arrows have all sorts of uses. If you’re after penetration, the head’s one way. If you want impact, breaking bones, that’s another.”

‘Tell him you’re hunting a humanoid animal with a crown on its head. Oh, and maybe mention it might be named Bartholomew.’ Artemis suggested dryly.

Quiet. I need to focus.

Luke tried to answer in a way that didn’t make it sound like he was planning to kill someone in armor. Even as a Midnight Warden, describing his real target would be a little too close to saying he wanted a human dead.

“I need an arrow that can bring down a monster for an orb mission,” Luke explained. “The problem is, this thing’s got… well, tough bones. I’m hoping to crack that ‘armor’ first, then move in to finish the job.”

Oswald nodded thoughtfully. “I see. So the creature’s plating is quite resilient.”

“Exactly,” Luke agreed quickly.

Oswald’s expression turned calculating. “We’ve got a few that might work. But you know the rules. I’ll need your name, class, profession if you have one, the name of a merchant who can vouch for you, where you live, the quantity you’re after, and, of course, payment in Bastion bills only.”

What?!

Yeah… this wasn’t the kind of place where just anyone could walk up and buy gear.

“May I see your bow? The arrow length has to match,” Oswald added.

“Uh… sure,” Luke replied, already scrambling for a way out of this.

‘The idiot! Your bow is literally called ANGELICA’S BOW! If he uses Identify on it, you’re screwed!’ Artemis barked in his mind.

Luke froze for a fraction of a second. Right… there’s that little problem.

He cleared his throat. “You know… it’s just a common bow. Standard arrow length works fine,” he tried.

Oswald adjusted his bow tie. “The more precise the details, the better our match, and the happier our client,” he said with smug professionalism. “Just let me take a look. I’m a Merchant, after all. I’ve got an Analysis skill that’ll help me pick the perfect arrow.”

Merchant?

‘Analysis skill? Luke, you are so screwed.’ Artemis said flatly.

Luke’s brain scrambled through a thousand excuses, but one ugly thought rose above the rest: Why the hell didn’t I think to pick up a second bow first?

Oswald’s gaze sharpened, a hint of impatience in his eyes. A few nearby guards were already eyeing Luke. He hesitated, tongue-tied. He could bolt, but that would draw attention. He even considered swiping one of the arrows on display, leaving his pack of valuables as payment, but there was only one damn arrow in the showcase, and he needed at least a hundred.

“Oh, there you are, love,” a woman’s voice purred.

Luke turned just in time to feel her slip an arm through his.

“He’s not causing you any trouble, is he?” she asked Oswald.

Luke’s eyes snapped to her face.

The damn ninja woman!

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep