Chapter 132: Ready, Set…

Nyanjara Town, An Alley Somewhere

The next day, every player in town began moving their pieces.

In a quiet, narrow alley deep within the slums, a violent commotion had broken out. Steel clashed against steel.

CLANK! CLANK! CLANK!

Three town guards surrounded a single opponent. The lone defender was a small beastman dressed in black. Timun, the meerkat ninja.

Timun panted heavily while holding his dagger in a defensive stance. Sweat ran down his face. His breathing was uneven. He had clearly been running—and fighting—for quite some time.

Despite his exhaustion, Timun moved skillfully. His dagger flicked and turned with quick precision, deflecting sword strikes that came from different angles. But skill alone could not change the situation. He was outnumbered.

One guard swung his sword downward. Timun blocked the strike with his dagger.

At that exact moment—

THUD.

Another guard kicked him hard in the ribs. The impact sent Timun flying backward nearly two meters before he slammed into the ground. His dagger spun out of his hand and clattered away across the stone floor.

Timun reacted instantly. Without a weapon, continuing the fight would be suicide. He sprang up and ran. The three guards immediately gave chase. It was instinct. Predators chasing fleeing prey. And unfortunately for Timun, these predators were wolves. Creatures born to hunt in packs.

The alley ahead split into a fork. One of the wolf guards suddenly sprinted ahead and moved to the left side of the path, cutting off that route. Timun was forced to turn right. He rushed into the narrow alley.

And then—

SMACK!

A heavy blow slammed into him from the front. Timun crashed hard onto the ground. Standing over him was the wolf captain. The same scar-faced guard captain from the mayor’s mansion.

“Heh,” the captain said with a cold smirk. “You gave us quite a bit of trouble, didn’t you, meerkat?”

Timun tried to push himself up. But his body refused to cooperate.

“How… did you find me…” Timun muttered weakly.

Before the captain could respond, one of the guards stepped forward and struck Timun across the head.

THUD.

Timun went limp and unconscious. The guards immediately began searching his clothes.

“Did you think you’re the only one capable of spying on your enemies?” the captain said with a grin.

One of the guards finally pulled something from Timun’s robe. A sealed letter. He handed it to the captain.

“Let’s see what we have here,” the captain said.

He broke the seal and opened the letter. His eyes scanned the contents.

“Oh?” he chuckled quietly. “Trying to ask for Count Tigger’s assistance, are you?”

The captain folded the letter and slipped it into his pocket.

“Good thing we caught you beforehand.”

He turned away.

“Put him in jail,” the captain ordered as he walked off.

---

River Boat

Meanwhile, aboard the river boat. Ximba and Poomba stood on the deck, staring ahead at the long stretch of river before them. Neither of them spoke. The atmosphere was tense.

A wolf soldier approached and saluted.

“Sir, we will arrive in six hours,” the soldier reported.

“Very well,” Ximba replied. “Inform His Majesty as well.”

“Yes, sir.”

The soldier saluted again before leaving. Ximba returned his gaze to the river ahead, his expression heavy with thought.

“Poomba,” Ximba said grimly.

“Yes, sir,” the warthog answered.

“Make sure all our men are battle-ready when we disembark.”

“Yes, sir.”

Ximba tightened his grip on the wooden railing of the boat.

“If Scarf intends to do something…”

His voice grew colder.

“It will happen in Nyanjara Town.”

His grip on the railing tightened further.

---

Nyanjara Mayor Estate, Scarf’s Office

Inside the mayor’s estate, the wolf guard captain stood in front of Scarf’s desk. Scarf himself sat comfortably in his chair, reading the letter that had been confiscated from Timun.

“Heheh… do they really think Count Tigger alone will be able to help them?” Scarf muttered.

Without another thought, he held the letter over the candle on his desk. The paper caught fire quickly and within seconds, the message had turned to ash.

“It’s a good thing we have a reliable ear on that ship,” the captain said.

“Yes, it is,” Scarf replied calmly.

He leaned back slightly in his chair.

“Are the mercenaries ready?”

“They are already moving into their positions,” the captain answered.

“Good… good,” Scarf murmured.

He slowly stood up from his chair and walked toward the window of his office. Outside, Nyanjara Town continued its daily business. Scarf placed his hands behind his back and stared out over the town.

“Well then, dear brother,” Scarf muttered with a thin grin.

“Today will be the day when your pride no longer means anything.”

---

Brothel

Meanwhile, inside the brothel's office. Rondo Stoneale sat behind his desk, speaking quietly into a portable mana-comm device. It was the same communication tool he had once used to secretly contact the Goldenclaws. And now, it was proving useful once again.

“Are you sure that was the demon prime minister?” a voice from the mana-comm asked.

“Yes, I’m sure,” Rondo replied quickly. “I still remember his face from when their kingdom first released that propaganda video after their war with the Vandorians.”

From the other side of the device came several muffled voices. The sound of people discussing something among themselves.

Then the original voice returned.

“Very well.”

“There will be a team heading to Beast Island for verification and pickup.”

Rondo’s face brightened immediately.

“But I’m sure you understand what will happen to you if we discover you are giving false information to the church,” the voice continued coldly.

“Y-Yes… I understand,” Rondo stammered. “I promise you this is the real one.”

“…Understood. Be on standby with your mana-comm.”

The transmission abruptly cut off. Rondo slowly lowered the device. He exhaled in relief then a grin slowly spread across his face.

“Heheh… I did it,” he muttered. “They agreed to come here to pick up the demon… and me.”

His grin widened further.

“I did it! HAHAHAHAHA!”

Rondo’s laughter echoed through the office. What he didn’t realize was that just outside the door—

Someone had been listening. A shadow stood quietly near the door, having overheard the entire conversation.

The mysterious figure then slipped away silently down the hallway.

---

Inn, Solo’s Room

“Kukuku…” Solo let out a quiet, villainous chuckle.

Later that afternoon, Solo sat at the table inside his room, busy making final preparations. Spread across the table were several pieces of equipment. Drones, Small monitoring screens, various strange tools. And, somewhat surprisingly—

Gremlins.

“Kiii!” a tiny gremlin captain shouted, snapping a sharp salute toward Solo.

He wore a miniature black combat-operator uniform.

“KIIII!!!”

Several other gremlins wearing the same uniforms saluted at the same time. They stood in a neat little formation on top of the table.

When Murica, Ravendawn, and Dwargonia became friends, many forms of cooperation quickly followed. Trade agreements, technological exchanges, and naturally—military collaboration.

One of their more unusual joint military experiments was the effort to perfecting weaponized gremlins. Before this alliance, the Dwargonians only had one practical way to use gremlins in battle. Treat them like volatile explosives.

Grab one and throw it at the enemy. Preferably when none of your allies were standing nearby.

Gremlins were naturally chaotic creatures. Once released, they attacked anything that moved. Enemy, ally, furniture, sometimes even themselves. Control was… not part of the system.

But when Murican researchers involved, they tried something different. Selective breeding.

With Ravendawn’s magic accelerating the gremlins’ growth cycles, several generations could be produced in a short amount of time. The result was a new breed of gremlin. Smarter, more obedient, capable of following simple commands.

So yes, they basically turned gremlins into something resembling dogs. Small, green. Extremely saboteur dogs.

“Well then boys,” Solo said, looking down at the tiny formation on the table. “After months of training, this will be your first live mission.”

He folded his arms.

“Are you ready?”

“KIIIII!!!”

Every gremlin shouted cheerfully.

Knock Knock Knock.

Someone knocked on the door.

“Sir, are you ready for the boys’ night out?” Irving’s voice called cheerfully from outside.

“Of course, give me five minutes!” Solo shouted back. Equally cheerful.

He looked down at his gremlin squad again.

“Alright, go back to your place and stay on standby,” Solo said while beginning to pack his equipment into his subspace bag.

The gremlins immediately scattered. They rushed toward a toolbox-shaped container sitting on the table. This box was actually their portable home. A heavily modified one. Inside it had lighting, power supply, miniature beds, weapon racks, tiny toilets, and several other amenities.

In other words—

It looked suspiciously like a military Barbie house. Once the last gremlin climbed inside, Solo picked up the box and placed it into his subspace bag as well. The clever thing about the gremlin portable home was that it was airtight and contained enough oxygen for seventy-two hours.

Normally, across Talvaris, it was strictly forbidden to put living creatures inside a subspace bag because there was no oxygen inside. This portable gremlin house simply cheated that rule.

Solo grinned as he confidently walked toward the door. When he opened it, his opponents—Irving and Kovalski—were already waiting outside with fake friendly smiles.

Solo returned the smile.

“Are you ready, sir?” Kovalski asked.

“Sure,” Solo replied with a knowing grin. “Let the game start.”

“Let’s go,” Irving said. “This will be a fun night.”

And so the three of them walked out of the inn together. Unseen by each other, identical evil smiles slowly appeared on their faces.

Each of them ready with their own game plan.

---

Tavern — A Few Hours Later

The Misfits’ plan had begun. They treated Solo at a tavern using their own money. Solo, unfortunately for them, was not the type to refuse free alcohol.

“AAAAHH!”

Solo exhaled happily after gulping his mug.

“HAHAHA! Thank you again for celebrating me becoming a father!” He then look at the waitress, “Miss! Another one!”

Then he immediately took another long gulp from the mug in his hand. Clearly trying to finish it right when the next mug arrived.

Across the table, Irving and Kovalski looked increasingly stressed.

“If he orders two more mugs… we won’t have enough money,” Irving whispered.

“Shit,” Kovalski whispered back. “And he doesn’t look anywhere near wasted.”

Irving grimaced.

“No other way,” he whispered. “We need to start the operation now.”

“Agree,” Kovalski said.

They nodded to each other.

Then, a moment later—

THUD.

Kovalski suddenly collapsed onto the table.

“Huh?” Solo muttered.

“Oh no!” Irving shouted theatrically. “Kovalski is too drunk!”

He turned toward Solo in panic.

“Sir! I think I need to bring him back to our hotel!”

“Whaaat? The night is still young… hic,” Solo complained.

“Uuuughhh…” Kovalski responded with groaning pitifully.

“Tch. I guess there’s no other way,” Solo said.

“Yes, I don’t think there’s another way, sir. I’m terribly sorry,” Irving said while quickly lifting Kovalski onto his shoulder.

But just as they stood up—

Solo suddenly grabbed Irving’s wrist.

Tight.

“You’re not thinking about leaving without paying first, right?” Solo glared.

“…o-of course not, sir,” Irving said, gulping nervously.

---

A Few Minutes Later

Solo now sat alone at the table. In front of him rested the Misfits’ coin pouch with Irving and Kovalski were nowhere to be seen.

Right on cue—

Candy, the cougar lady, arrived.

“Hello there again,” Candy said.

Solo grinned.

“I guess it’s time.”