Chapter 63: Faction War

He could only stare for a few seconds at the notification.

The word ’poisoned was all he needed to read to understand what happened.

His grip tightened so hard the bottle crinkled. For a heartbeat, he just stared at the label like his eyes might change it through anger. Those two who were now following him got their purpose and their goal confirmed.

Kael needed to get away from here; the Sun Clan wants him dead. Not “might.” Not “could.” Poison wasn’t a warning. Poison was a decision.

“Healing potion, how much?” Kael asked. His voice stayed flat with effort. He didn’t let his face show too much, because showing panic in front of Baltak felt like bleeding in front of a shark.

“Check the list again. Also, there is nothing worth 0 cores here anymore.” Baltak smiled. That was what he missed the first time, it only stung more that he reminded him again. The imp’s smile wasn’t cruel exactly, but it wasn’t kind either. It was the smile of a man who enjoyed being right.

Kael didn’t trust him still and set the search for Zero cores, but found nothing. And a knowing smile on the imp’s face. He shook his head, jaw tight, and forced himself not to waste time chasing ghosts of free items. He’d already lost enough minutes today.

He scrolled toward the healing potions, finding one that was worth two cores.

***

[Minor Healing Potion]

[Heals all minor injuries and recovers one’s vitality.]

**

He immediately paid the sum. And downed the bottle. No hesitation what so ever. The liquid was sharp and strange, not quite sweet, not quite bitter, like medicine that didn’t pretend to be pleasant.

His body felt the change immediately, warmth spreading through his veins in a controlled wave. The redness of his hand was gone, along with the first-degree burns, and his back was no longer aching from the scorching he received at the Ifrit’s arena.

He flexed his hand twice, almost in disbelief at how quickly pain could become memory, and grabbed a second bottle just in case. If the Sun Clan really meant to kill him, having an emergency heal was the difference between making it to an alley and collapsing in the street.

Kael was once again almost broke. The familiar emptiness of his inventory of cores settled like a weight, because being broke in the Tower wasn’t an inconvenience. It was suffocation.

“At this rate, you’ll never pay me back.” Baltak’s tone was light, but there was something sharp behind it. A reminder that debt wasn’t just numbers. Debt was leverage. And he needed to pay his, very soon.

“Don’t worry, I got you, just need to get some goblin kills, and I should pay you before the trial is over,” Kael replied, and he tried to make it sound like confidence instead of desperation.

His mind was already counting routes, already thinking about where goblins clustered, already imagining how many he could kill before night swallowed the streets.

“Good luck with that, you’ll need it with how short the time is. I only have three more days left here.” Baltak said it casually, like he was discussing store hours.

But the words hit Kael in the gut. Three days left here meant Baltak wasn’t permanent. It meant the shop was a temporary mercy.

“The Zombie horde?” Kael asked. The phrase came out like a curse he didn’t want to say too loudly.

“Oh, you know that, was that the map?” Baltak asked, eyes narrowing a fraction, curiosity sharpening him.

Kael shook his head, “No had the luxury of opening the doors of hell myself. Closed it right back then.” He gave Baltak a crooked, tired grin, the kind that suggested humor even when there wasn’t much left to laugh at.

He didn’t admit it. He didn’t confirm it. He just let the imp decide what he wanted to believe.

“Well, you need to hurry if you want to gear up for what would feel like an apocalypse,” Baltak said, and for once his tone sounded almost… sincere. Or maybe it was just pragmatic. Apocalypses were bad for business. Mostly because no one was left to do business with.

“Yeah, I’ll camp the night out and hunt.” Kael resolved to stay for a full night. To gather as many cores as possible before the big zombie horde.

The decision tasted bitter because hunting at night meant fighting when monsters were sharpest, but the alternative was being underprepared when the dead surged in numbers you couldn’t count.

He also meant to get as far away from the shop as possible since those two were probably getting even closer.

Just as he thought about checking the map, he was surprised to see that the dots that followed him turned from two to five. His heartbeat spiked. Reinforcements, or a second group converging, or something worse.

“FUCK THEM UP!” The sound echoed from outside the shop.

Looking outside, Kael saw the two guys from the Sun Clan in a fight with the other three. The street had turned into chaos in seconds, shadows grappling, fists swinging, steel flashing briefly in neon light.

The two Sun Clan members fought like they’d expected them to, backing into each other instinctively, trying not to get surrounded.

“FUCKIGN SNAKES! I KNEW THAT FUCKER WAS A SNAKE!” one of the Sun Clan members howled as they were being pushed back. His voice cracked with rage and fear, and Kael felt the situation shift in his gut. This wasn’t a clean assassination attempt anymore.

This was factions colliding.

Seems like a war is about to break between the two clans. Kael stood in the doorway’s shadow for a heartbeat, potion bottle still in hand, the poisoned water bottle heavy in his bag like proof.

He’d come here to buy healing and escape quietly. Instead, the Tower had delivered him a different kind of problem, one that didn’t care whether he was a victim or a liar, only that he existed in the middle of someone else’s fight.

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