Mouse hated rainy nights. Rain meant fewer customers, but more trouble.
He sat behind the reinforced counter of his repair shop, nervously tapping a screwdriver against the metal surface. The holographic news on the wall was blaring a red alert.
"...Sector 7 Disturbance. Iron Fist Guild reports a Dungeon Anomaly. Residents are advised to stay indoors..."
"Anomaly," Mouse muttered, wiping his foggy glasses. "That means someone died."
He thought of Lin. The kid had sold him Kane's gear just hours ago. Now the Guild was turning the sector upside down. Lin was probably dead—either eaten by goblins or executed by Captain Marco.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Three slow, heavy strikes on the steel shutter.
Mouse froze. It was 2:00 AM. "We're closed!" he shouted, his voice cracking slightly.
"Open," a voice rasped from outside. It sounded like gravel grinding on glass. "Business."
Mouse reached under the counter and gripped a sawed-off shotgun. It was a kinetic weapon, useless against high-rank Hunters, but it made him feel better. He checked the external camera feed.
The screen was static. Someone had jammed it.
"Great," Mouse whispered.
He walked to the door, shotgun raised. He unlocked the mag-lock and slid the shutter up just a few inches. "I said we're cl—"
A hand shot under the door. It grabbed the bottom of the steel shutter and ripped it upward. SCREECH—BANG!
The heavy steel door flew up as if it weighed nothing. Mouse stumbled back, aiming the shotgun. "Back off! I'll shoot!"
A figure stepped out of the rain. A goblin-skin mask. Bloody rags. And three silent shadows looming behind him like grim reapers.
Mouse's trigger finger locked up. The killing intent rolling off this stranger was suffocating. It smelled of fresh sulfur and high-grade mana.
"Put the toy away, Mouse," the Mask said.
Mouse trembled. "How... how do you know my name?"
The Mask didn't answer. He walked into the shop, the three shadows spreading out to block the exit and the windows. Lin—behind the mask—looked at the terrified broker. He felt a strange detachment. Yesterday, he had begged this man for a fair price. Today, he held this man's life in his hand.
"I have merchandise," Lin said.
Mouse lowered the gun, realizing it was pointless. "I... I don't have much cash left. I spent it all on parts."
"You don't have enough cash for this anyway."
Lin reached into his cloak and placed the Boss Core on the greasy counter. Thump.
The shop was instantly bathed in a pulsating crimson light. The mana density was so high it made the hair on Mouse's arms stand up.
Mouse's jaw dropped. He adjusted his glasses, leaning closer. "Is that... a Core? An E-Rank... no, an E-Plus?"
"Boss Core," Lin corrected. "Fresh."
Mouse looked at the mask, then at the core. The gears in his head clicked. "The Anomaly... the Guild lockdown... that was you?" Mouse whispered, fear mixing with awe. "You soloed the Goblin Shaman?"
"Irrelevant," Lin cut him off. "I need to sell it. Fast. And discreetly."
Mouse shook his head vigorously. "I can't touch this. This is 'Hot' loot. If the Guild sees this, they'll trace the mana signature. They'll kill me."
"I know," Lin said calmly. "That's why we're going to the Underground Auction."
Mouse blinked. "The Obsidian Hall? That's invite-only. High rollers. Corporate agents. I'm just a fixer; I don't have a seat."
"Get one."
Lin threw a stack of cash chips onto the counter. It was the 5,000 Credits he got from the System reward. "Buy two tickets. One for you, one for me. We go in tomorrow night."
Mouse stared at the money. "Two tickets is 4,000... But why take me? You could go alone."
Lin leaned forward. The goblin mask was inches from Mouse's face. The hollow eyeholes stared into Mouse's soul.
"Because I need a broker to handle the paperwork," Lin lied. The truth was, Lin didn't know the procedures. He needed a guide. But he couldn't admit ignorance. "And because," Lin added, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, "if you try to sell me out to the Guild... my shadows will find you before the credits hit your account."
One of the clones sharpened its bone dagger against the metal doorframe. Shhhk. Shhhk.
Mouse swallowed hard. He looked at the money, then at the Core—a commission on this sell would set him up for a year. Greed warred with fear. Greed won.
"Okay," Mouse said, sweeping the cash into his pocket. "Okay. Tomorrow night at 8 PM. I'll get us in. But you keep that mask on. I don't want to know who you really are."
"Smart choice," Lin said.
He retrieved the Boss Core. The red light vanished, plunging the shop back into shadows.
"One more thing," Lin said, turning to leave. "Do you sell skill books?"
"Uh... only low-grade ones," Mouse stammered. "What do you need?"
"Stealth," Lin said. "And daggers. Better ones."
"Bring them to the auction entrance," Lin ordered. "I'll pay you after the sale."
He didn't wait for an answer. Lin and his shadows dissolved into the rainy night, leaving Mouse alone in his shop, shivering despite the humidity.
Mouse looked at the dented steel shutter. "Who the hell is that monster?"
（"Enjoying the massacre? Drop a Power Stone to feed the Clone Army!"）