A Black Market LitRPG

M.G.Driver

Mages are not very clearly defined so far. The first mention of a mage was in Chapter 12, and sprinkles subsequently. Hopefully this chapter shows a bit more of how mages operate in the world.

In the rewrite of chapter 70 - 120, I aim to give far more context and foreshadowing to this role as well.

The glare of the arctech spotlights dominated the night scenery, Count Leon’s camp a ring of light around Ocra as weary soldiers continued their daily routine, stuck in a never-ending back-and-forth loop. Commanders furrowed their brows as they poured over routines, attack plans and logistics routes. Every level of the army fought against each other, accused one another of restricting supply, or intentionally not rendering aid during battle.

The same tension was apparent throughout the camp, an unnerving result of the harrowing retreat from Tenar. Count Leon bore the brunt of the defeat, continuously working around the clock to stave and assuage his soldiers of eventual victory, though to little effect.

Even his morale had taken a hit as he stood over in his personal tent, now permanently wearing his arctech armour as a precaution against surprise attacks. The army was still deep in Versia territory.

The last month had not been good for Count Leon ever since his forces retreated from Tenar. He had diverted about two-fifths of his army to Raktor in order to suppress the major gang uprising. Unwilling to give up the land that he has claimed from Versia, he remained entrenched, besieging Ocra daily with cannons and sappers, attempting to breach the defensive trenches and walls.

His knight retinue was heavily beaten as well, with nearly all of his well-trained knights wiped out by Kyle and ADCON within the palace. I had underestimated him… Count Leon fumed as he tapped his gloved finger on the map of Ocra, where scouts continuously reported enemy movements to and fro.

“Sir, a report from one of our spies who made it in.” An intelligence officer saluted.

“What’s the situation?”

“No signs of dwindling supplies nor starvation. Ammunition seems to be well-stocked as well.”

“Impossible. Haven’t we been stopping ADCON hovercrafts?”

The hovercrafts became a new mode of warfare, another dimension that Count Leon now had to take into account. Already his best engineers had developed countermeasures, bright searchlights that could spot the stealth engravings. He had yet to capture a hovercraft yet, not having the right weapons nor equipment to knock them down, but he could at least deter them with timed explosives in the air, filling the skies with fragments.

“Yes, we have, but they seem to have a few underground tunnels that we have yet to cover.”

“Find them as soon as possible. Have our scouts scour the surrounding area. I don’t care if the tunnel is five kilometres away – we must find it!”

The intelligence officer saluted, leaving the sighing Count Leon to ponder over the state of the war. He was now truly trapped in a dilemma, unable to both push forward and retreat. Either way he went, he would lose something.

His current forces were far from insufficient to launch a frontal assault on Ocra, having suffered casualties and worsening morale from the retreat of Tenar. The major gangs’ intervention in Raktor further exacerbated the supply lines of his troops, causing him to be forced to redirect even more resources to focus on securing them.

The worse part about all of this? A major reason why Raktor was still stable was due to the help of the Seven Snakes, alleviating the amount of effort needed by the enforcers to stabilise the South Sector. The city was now in an uncivil state, where the laws only applied depending on who controlled the district.

Count Leon gripped his fist as he raged internally, instinctively unwilling to rely on the Seven Snakes for help. Yet he had no choice but to accept the help, though he swore to eradicate them from the future when he claimed back Raktor.

Just as he was about to slam the table in an outburst of anger, a crackle on the arctech radio suddenly gave him a spark of hope.

[Count Leon, the help the Duke has promised is here.]

Fucking finally! Count Leon nearly couldn’t stop himself from grinning, quickly marching out with his guards in tow, moving to the entrance of the camp where a small elite unit escorted a single arctech wagon.

His enthusiasm paled significantly as he craned his neck, trying to spot if there were any other arctech wagons in the convoy. However, he could only see one such wagon, guarded closely by five elite soldiers decked in arctech armour equivalent to his knights.

As the door of the wagon opened, Count Leon could feel the air ripple slightly while the man within took a step out, wearing a robe emblazoned with the Duke’s family crest, surrounded by a deep shade of purple that was only accentuated by the red exterior linings that marked the edges.

Unlike the lack of reaction from Count Leon, his guards were visibly taken aback by the appearance of the man, who did not look more than twenty years old, yet had an aura of an elder.

Instead of the reverence that the guards displayed, Count Leon showed an irritated expression, clicking his tongue. “I specifically requested three demolition mages. Not a junior mage.”

“The Duke is currently occupied with another matter.”

“A matter that requires more than two mages to be deployed onto the field?”

The mage did not falter, fully stepping out of the carriage and standing to his full height. “Mages are not to be used for small wars such as this. You may think this war of yours is paramount, but this is a but a small issue in the eyes of the Duke. There are far greater things beyond your pitiful position.”

Count Leon wanted to retort but decided against pissing off the mage. While he himself could be considered a well-trained wielder of arcia engravings, mages were on a completely different level. They were considered national treasures, with every one of them achieving status far beyond the common folk, even beyond the Count. Only Dukes and above were allowed to have mages in their employ less the Heretical Wars were repeated again.

“The failure of this war will also reflect on the prestige of the Duke.”

“That is true. Which is why he sent me.”

“There’s a reason why I asked for three demolition mages. The walls and defensive fortifications of Ocra are –“

“Are carved with defensive engravings as well as point defence systems. I know. This is why I am the perfect mage for the job.”

Count Leon was about to argue again, but the mage put up his hand, silencing him. The tattoos on the mage’s hand were visible, his hand heavily mutilated from the arcia carvings. “Do not bother arguing. I am all you need. Prepare an infiltration squad. We will make Ocra fall tonight.”

“Infiltration? I was planning to have the demolition mages lead a frontal assault - ”

“I understand your views on how mages operate from the old wars, and I do not blame you. However, mages can be employed in many forms. Do not restrain yourself to the old dogmas surrounding mages – a new generation of warfare is coming.”

Under cover of the night sky, three Raktor soldiers snuck up to the walls of Ocra, hauling sacks on their backs. The sweat dripped down their faces as they panted, moving as quietly as they could, each keeping a lookout for any spotters.

“Where’s the drop?” The soldier at the back hissed angrily. “I was told this would be a quick job!”

“If you didn’t wake up the damn camp guard, we wouldn’t have to wait so long!” The soldier leading the trio at the front whispered back. “Just got to find the black brick, and we’re clear.”

The soldiers hugged the walls, scanning for the sign of the black brick while they continued to lug the sacks, the rugged texture rubbing against their long-blemished uniforms and eroding the fabric even further.

A few minutes passed by to no avail, with no sign in view. The exhaustion and tension were slowly getting to them the longer they spent circling the walls. “I don’t think this is a good idea; we should head back! What if they were lying to us?” The soldier in the middle tried to convince the others to turn around, his eyes continuously darting to the top of the walls.

“Then what else are you going to do? Lose this war and return home empty-handed? For all I know, my house back at Raktor is already in shambles, thanks to the fucking gangs. Better to grab as much money and loot as we can before we return. Wait, here it is!”

The black brick was found, with the soldiers quickly tapping a rapid pattern on it. Instead of the sound of stone echoing, the surface was surprisingly wooden, painted to resemble part of the wall. The door began to swing slightly open, engravings activating the door, revealing a narrow spiralling staircase that led downwards.

They hurriedly stepped into the staircase, rushing down into its depths where it led into a small underground cavern, revealing two thugs guards who wielded heavy vibration axes, glaring at them as they blocked yet another door. “Weapons off.”

The soldiers complied, taking off their rifles and placing them on a small wooden table outside the door before the bouncers patted them down, checking for hidden weapons. Once clear, the door was opened, leading to a small little room where Masir and a few of his hired thugs were already waiting for them. Masir was now well-dressed and equipped, wearing a mix of arctech armour and luxurious clothing, courtesy of his newfound wealth thanks to being the overall leader of the black market in Ocra.

“We got what you asked for.” The soldier at the front spoke while huffing, dropping the sacks on the ground as Masir’s thugs moved forward to check the goods. Food, medical supplies and small containers of ammunition were in the sacks.

Masir grinned as he saw the goods all laid out at his feet. This was how Ocra had still been surviving for a month, despite Count Leon enacting a full blockade and even restricting hovercrafts from getting too close. High altitude airdrops, as well as turncoat Raktor soldiers, were what kept Ocra alive now.

“Well done, but there’s still one more thing.” Masir motioned to the soldier at the front.

“Right, right.” The soldier pulled out a roll of parchment from his breast pocket, handing it over to Masir. “Here’s a copy of the shipment list.”

Masir’s eyes darted as he rolled it out, reading it carefully. His smile only grew wider and wider as he continued. The logistics seem to be cancelling every shipment past this week. That means… “Looks like the end of the war is in sight, boys! That damn Count is retreating in a week!”

“HELL YEAH! Fucking Yual dogs won’t take an inch of Versia!”

“WOOOOOO”

A rousing cheer went up among the thugs while the three Raktor soldiers smiled warily, obviously unnerved to be in the midst of cheering enemies.

“All right, we got you what you wanted. Where’s the payment?”

“Right, sorry.” Masir motioned for a thug to bring forward a sack to the soldiers, who quickly opened it to check the contents. The dazzling brilliance of the opulent jewellery, handcrafted arctech lanterns and other obviously luxurious items nearly made the soldiers’ hearts jump in place. They, too, couldn’t stop grinning as they thought about how much all of this could go for in Raktor.

“Pleasure doing business with you.” The front soldier nodded his head, about to turn his head to leave, when he suddenly noticed the cheering thugs had been slowly surrounding them, cutting off their exit. A small unnerving tension began to fill the room as the soldiers’ eyes darted around, their hands slowly reaching for their weapons.

“Wasn’t this to be a fair and simple equivalent exchange?” The front soldier looked at Masir, who had lost his prior happiness and exuberance.

“It is, but only if you did not try to lie to me.” Masir snarled as a secret door behind him opened, revealing another Raktor soldier who was heavily beaten up, and dragged out by two guards. “Now all you need to do is explain to me – why is every soldier I am trading with copying a different shipment list?”

The front soldier gulped instinctively, recognising the soldier to be one of his platoon members. “I don’t understand – I only copied what I saw at the logistics officer tent.”

“Then Raktor’s education system must be going down the drain. Your friend’s supposed copy of the shipment list is completely different from yours. In his, Count Leon retreats in two days. The items are all completely different too. In fact, every group that has traded with me tonight has given me different versions. Now you are going to tell me what the hell you Yual dogs are planning or I -”

A loud scream erupted from beyond the door, coming from where the two bouncers were at the door. Frost began to spread significantly across the walls, stemming from the hinges as the wooden door froze over.

Masir barely had time to order his men into action when the door burst apart in splinters of ice and wood, the fragments piercing through the air and impaling the thugs and Raktor soldiers indiscriminately. Automatic point defence systems built into the cavern kicked into action, but more icicles shot forth from beyond the door, overwhelming them.

The three soldiers did not even get the chance to scream, their backs riddled with holes as they took the brunt of the explosion. Masir ducked quickly behind cover as green arcia bolts and icicles lanced across the room in a flurry of projectiles. He flipped a table to serve as cover while the thugs began to do the same, brandishing their pistols and rifles and firing at the entrance.

As the pellets blasted through the air, they were suddenly stopped by an ice wall that formed out of nowhere, blocking the entrance as a young, robed man stepped forwards calmly, his boots cracking the frozen limbs of the fallen Raktor soldiers into pieces. His piercing yellow eyes glanced at Masir before he suddenly lunged forward towards Masir.

Before Masir could react, a blade of ice had already pierced through his stomach and the cover he was hiding behind, gutting him from within as his organs seared with pain, the cold chilling edge dominating his nerves as he screamed in pain. The thugs all attempted to shoot at the mage, but they were instead greeted by icicles, stabbing them right in the eyes with precision, drilling into their ocular nerves.

Masir tried desperately to use the butt of his arctech gun to smash the blade of ice, but instead the frost began to spread through his body rapidly, freezing his heart and organs over till he became nothing more than an ice block, his expression permanently locked in horror.

“Sa...ve me…” A weak moan came from the heavily injured Raktor soldier whom Masir’s thugs had beaten up.

The mage walked up slowly to the soldier, instead rewarding him by chopping off his head. “Under Count Leon’s authority, all collusions with the enemy are to be punished by execution.”

The cavern was now silent, the prior rowdiness of the thugs replaced with a chilling silence, the floor littered with dead bodies half covered in frost. Soon, the sound of boots began to enter the cavern, as more arctech knights and the mage’s personal elite squad began to enter the cavern, preparing to infiltrate Ocra.

The mage scoffed as he kicked the frozen block of Masir over, the human ice sculpture snapping in half as it smacked against the wall. “Too easy. I wouldn't have come if I knew it would be like this.”

“Sir, reneging on a contract will earn you demerit points from the Duke.” One of the mage’s personal elite squad remarked as they cleared the room, making way for supplies as the cavern now began to serve as their forward supply base.

“I know.” The mage waved his hand dismissively. “Get the sappers in here to break the walls immediately, don’t waste my time. If they do, they better hope Count Leon is happy with a frozen city.”