The metallic scent of blood did not faze her.
In another lifetime, she had witnessed battlefields littered with thousands of fallen soldiers.
Designing weapons had not kept her distant from war; she had served on the frontlines as well.
“Open Inventory,” she thought.
A translucent panel appeared before her eyes.
She placed a hand lightly on the body.
“System.
Absorb into inventory.”
Normally, she would manually drag items into slots, but lifting a corpse was inconvenient and messy.
Since the inventory function was system-provided, it complied without complaint.
In the blink of an eye, Ramses’ body vanished.
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
It’s open murder and storing away the corpse in front of many witnesses.
What does this woman want to do with the corpse?
Some couldn’t help but wonder.
At the same time, many also gazed at this masked archer and wondered about his relationship with the lady.
Kiara calmly retrieved the fallen gold-grade sword and stored it as well before returning toward Nexus, telling the archer to follow him inside.
The archer did not comment.
Whatever she had done, it did not change his immediate objective.
Inside the store, he paused briefly.
The cleanliness struck him first.
Even in Averton District, where dust usually clung stubbornly to every surface, Nexus gleamed as though preserved within an invisible barrier.
His eyes shifted to the wall shelves lined with pistols arranged in precise symmetry.
Kiara moved behind the counter and pretended to reach beneath it, retrieving a revolver from her inventory instead.
“This,” she said lightly, placing it before him, “is a revolver.
More advanced than the single-shot pistol but also more expensive.
This piece was reserved for a noble, but if you are interested, I can arrange more.”
He took it.
The grip fit naturally in his hand.
The weight distribution felt balanced, refined.
“This feels better,” he murmured.
“Shorter.
Easier to conceal.”
His gaze settled on the rotating cylinder.
“And this?”
“You load six bullets here,” Kiara explained smoothly.
“Six consecutive shots before reloading.
That’s where this weapon has the advantage.”
He requested a pistol as well, comparing the two side by side.
The revolver indeed felt superior in ergonomics.
“How much?” he asked.
“Twenty gold coins per revolver.
Five per single-shot pistol.
Bullets remain twenty silver each.”
A flicker of calculation crossed his mind.
Twenty-five revolvers alone would cost five hundred gold coins.
Combined with ammunition, the investment doubled.
Scaling to a hundred would approach four thousand gold coins.
Even for someone with resources, that was no trivial expense.
He remained silent for a moment before speaking.
“Order me twenty-five revolvers.
If my comrades find them satisfactory, we will expand the order.”
Kiara’s eyes sharpened subtly.
Comrades.
Not a lone assassin, then.
A guild?
A rebel faction?
Her mind spun quietly while her face retained its merchant’s composure.
“Of course,” she replied.
“They will be ready in three days.”
Outside, the alley remained unsettled, though the immediate violence had ended.
Inside Nexus, a new transaction had begun, one that carried implications far beyond gold.
Silver Manor, Imperial City;
“What did you say?
Nexus Weapon Store?”
Wester Silver’s voice echoed sharply across the chamber as two Prefects and their superior from the Department of Law and Enforcement stood before him with lowered heads.
The air inside the hall felt heavier than usual, as though even the curtains sensed the shift in mood.
The report they had just delivered was not one that could be brushed aside like a petty dispute in Averton District.
If the victim had been a commoner or even a low-ranking noble, the Prefects would have dragged the suspect into custody first and asked questions later.
However, the deceased was Ramses, a five-star rank warrior and the security chief of Silver Manor.
More than that, he had been killed with a single volley of energy arrows, clean and precise, without any prolonged struggle.
Such efficiency suggested a six-star expert or above.
And that changed everything.
Assuming the mysterious archer had some connection to the store owner, and considering how that archer intervened to assist Nexus Weapon Store, the Prefects quickly judged the matter to be beyond their authority.
They had immediately reported to their superior, the Inspector, who in turn, wasted no time in escorting them to Silver Manor to inform Wester Silver personally.
After hearing every detail gathered so far, Wester Silver leaned back slowly, fingers tapping against the armrest.
“A small store in Averton District,” he murmured thoughtfully.
“Yet backed by someone capable of killing Ramses in one strike.”
His gaze darkened.
“A warrior of that level does not stand alone.
I cannot treat this lightly.”
Then something clicked in his mind.
He summoned the gatekeepers to the balcony without delay.
A trembling soldier hurried forward and knelt.
“Tell me,” Wester Silver said evenly, though the steel beneath his tone was unmistakable, “why did they attack Captain Korrin in the first place?
I want the truth.”
He had not been present when the incident occurred.
By the time he returned, the shattered gate was already under repair.
The guards had only reported that two people injured their captain, and Ramses personally went to apprehend them.
At the time, Wester Silver had dismissed it as a trivial matter.
Until now.
The soldier swallowed hard and confessed everything, from the initial confrontation to how their own captain had provoked the visitors by pointing his blade.
“For that?” Wester Silver frowned, displeasure etched across his features.
“For that, they injured my men?”
His pride smarted.
He was the head of one of the Twelve Major Noble Houses, a Minister of Public Works.
Kiara or her servant, no matter how unusual, was still a commoner without title or lineage.
Moreover, Ramses had served him loyally for a decade.
To harm Ramses was no different than challenging his authority directly.
Seeing the shift in his expression, the Inspector seized the moment to curry favor.
“Lord Silver, if you command it, I will issue a warrant against the store owner as an accomplice to murder.
We can attach additional charges if necessary.
Should she resist, I will personally apprehend her.”
Wester Silver had indeed considered that path.
Yet before he could respond, movement at the courtyard entrance caught his attention.
“It was them, Milord,” the soldier whispered urgently, pointing.
Wester Silver narrowed his eyes.
Two figures stood calmly beyond the threshold, escorted by guards.
“They came here themselves?” he murmured.
A soldier approached to inform him that the two requested an audience.
The same gatekeeper who had witnessed Zion’s strength now stood pale and visibly unsettled.
The Inspector smirked faintly.
“They must have come to beg forgiveness.”
Wester Silver studied them carefully from afar.
“I do not see apology in their posture,” he said slowly.
“Perhaps they came to return Ramses’ body.”
His gaze hardened further.
“Escort them upstairs,” he ordered.
Then, as an afterthought, he gave an additional quiet command to his bodyguard.
The Prefects exchanged glances, sensing that matters were no longer simple.