Chapter 134: Game On (Part 2)

Nyanjara Town, Prison

An hour after the attack on the river boat, Ximba and the surviving members of his entourage were thrown into prison. The mercenary ambush had been swift and overwhelming.

Ximba slowly regained consciousness. His head throbbed. His vision blurred at first, then gradually sharpened.

Stone walls, damp air, and iron bars. He was lying on the floor of a prison cell. Inside the same cell with him were Poomba and Timun.

“Sir, are you alright?” Poomba asked.

The warthog looked battered and bruised, his face swollen from several blows.

“Ugh…”

Ximba groaned as he tried to sit up. Poomba quickly helped him steady himself.

“Where are we?” Ximba asked, still shaking off the dizziness.

“We’re in Nyanjara’s prison,” Timun replied quietly.

“Timun?” Ximba muttered, turning toward him in disbelief. “Shit… they caught you too?!”

“I’m so sorry, sir,” Timun said, lowering his gaze to the floor.

“What about my father?” Ximba asked urgently.

“Son. I’m here.”

Musafa’s voice echoed from nearby.

Ximba looked up. Across the corridor, inside another cell directly facing his, stood the old lion king.

“Father,” Ximba said as he stepped toward the bars separating them, only to be stopped by the thick iron rods.

“Aunt Shaba! She’s—” Ximba began.

“I know…” Musafa said solemnly. “Poomba already told me everything.”

Poomba gave a small nod to confirm.

“Father, we need to—” Ximba started.

Then a loud, mocking laugh cut him off.

“HAHAHAHAHAHA! Well, well… look who we have here!”

Everyone turned toward the corridor. Scarf approached the cells with a slow, arrogant stride. Beside him walked the wolf guard captain, followed by several armed wolf guards.

And behind them... Shaba. Ximba and Musafa instantly growled.

“Scarf… Shaba…” Ximba snarled, baring his fangs.

But their enemies simply smiled.

“SCARF!!!” Musafa roared.

“Yes, dear brother?” Scarf replied calmly.

“I get it,” Musafa said through clenched teeth. “You really want my throne.”

He slammed a paw against the bars.

“Now let me out of here! Let’s do it! Let’s settle this with an Alpha duel! Right here, right now!”

“Oh?” Scarf chuckled. “Hahahaha…”

He shook his head slowly.

“No, no. You’re mistaken, dear brother.”

“What?” Musafa growled. “You don’t want my throne?”

“No, no. That part is correct,” Scarf said casually. “I do want your throne.”

He leaned slightly closer to the cell.

“But the Alpha duel? I have no intention of doing any duel with you.”

“WHAT?!” Musafa roared.

“You heard me correctly,” Scarf said with a grin. “There will be no duels.”

He spread his arms slightly.

“I will simply take the throne… by executing you. Kukuku.”

“You can’t do that!” Ximba shouted. “The other tribes won’t accept you as king without an Alpha duel!”

“Oh, they will,” Scarf replied calmly. “Yes, yes… they will complain at first.” He smiled wider. “But once they realize I now command all the mercenary tribes…”

“No one will dare raise their voice.”

“Scarf!” Musafa growled. “Trying to take the throne is one thing!”

“But throwing away your pride as a lion beastman?!” Musafa continued “That is unforgivable!”

“Oh, you’re so outdated, brother,” Scarf scoffed. “The world out there is already progressing so much while we are still here playing in the mud and picking fleas off each other.”

He turned around, clearly finished with the conversation.

“Your execution will be done in the morning,” Scarf said coldly as he began walking away. “Death by wildebeest stampede… kukuku.”

He and the guards started leaving the prison corridor, but Shaba stayed behind.

“Shaba…” Musafa muttered.

“When me and Scarf return to the castle, please don’t worry,” Shaba said with a warm smile. “I won’t let any of his men touch Queen Siraba.”

There was a brief pause then her smile slowly sharpened.

“Because I’m the one who will take her life personally.” She tilted her head slightly. “AAHAHAHAHA!”

Still laughing, she turned and walked away to follow Scarf and the guards. Soon their footsteps faded down the corridor until finally silence returned to the prison. Musafa and Ximba both stood quietly behind their bars, the weight of the situation pressing down on them.

“Father, don’t worry,” Ximba finally said. “I’ve already asked Count Tigger for help.”

“Hm? But they captured Timun,” Musafa replied.

Ximba turned toward the small meerkat in the cell.

“Yes, sir,” Timun said. “When they caught me, they confiscated the fake letter.”

He straightened slightly.

“But the real one should have arrived by now. One of my men delivered it.”

“Good,” Ximba muttered.

“But Ximba,” Musafa continued, “do you think Count Tigger alone will be enough to help us?”

He glanced down the dark corridor.

“Scarf now has not only the guards… but also the mercenaries.”

Ximba lowered his gaze slightly.

“I don’t know, father.”

A quiet breath escaped him.

“But we don’t have any other choice but to hope.”

---

Slum, Hyena Hideout

Meanwhile, elsewhere in town. The Misfits were hiding inside one of the rooms of the fake inn that served as the hyenas’ hideout. Irving paced around the room, tapping his foot impatiently while checking his watch every few seconds.

“What’s taking them so long?!” Irving muttered.

Bella leaned against the wall.

“Maybe they got lost?” she suggested.

“No way,” Kovalski said immediately. “She’s a local. She knows exactly where this place is.”

Ivy slowly turned toward him with narrowed eyes.

“You didn’t scare her away by doing something weird, did you?” she muttered.

Everyone else in the room immediately turned and stared at Kovalski.

Six pairs of suspicious eyes locked onto him.

“Eeeeyyy! No!” Kovalski protested, raising his hands defensively. “I didn’t touch her! I wasn’t even trying to do anything!”

The suspicious staring continued. Then suddenly—

From outside their room, they heard a commotion coming from the lobby.

Voices and footsteps. Something clearly happening downstairs.

Bella tilted her head slightly.

“Oh?”

“I think the Prime Minister is here.”

Irving immediately straightened.

“Oh finally,” he said with visible relief.

---

Hyena Hideout, Lobby

Unfortunately for the Misfits, when they peeked down into the lobby, the arriving guests were not their Prime Minister ready for a night of secret debauchery. Instead—

Dozens of armed wolf guards were storming through the entrance.

“What the hell?!” Ivy muttered.

Downstairs, the hyenas reacted instantly. Even though the Misfits had forced them into nice clothes and made them run a fake inn, instincts were still instincts. And right now, another pack had just marched straight into their den.

The atmosphere in the lobby changed immediately. Two groups, two packs. Both staring each other down. Just like animals about to start a fight, both sides began their traditional rituals: posturing, taunting, and trying to intimidate the other group.

Unfortunately, since both sides now spoke the same language—and both were, technically speaking, dogs—the insults quickly became… very personal.

“You hyenas running an inn now?” one wolf guard mocked loudly. “What’s next? Bathing?”

“Why?” the hyena leader replied with a grin. “You planning to stay the night? Did you ask permission from your master first?”

“No way,” another wolf guard said while wrinkling his nose. “It stinks in here. I thought hyenas only smelled this bad when they were dead.”

“Careful boys,” one hyena chuckled. “They only bite when their master tells them to. Kekeke.”

Several hyenas burst into laughter.

“What’s so funny?” a wolf guard snapped. “You laughing before or after we beat you up?”

“Relax boys,” the hyena leader replied lazily. “We’re just laughing at you.”

Weapons began to appear in both groups’ hands. Steel glinted under the lobby lights.

“Listen up, scavengers!” one of the wolf officers shouted. “We’re here to round up a green boarman and his companions! Town guard business!”

Up on the second floor, the Misfits froze.

“What the?!” Irving whispered in shock. “Why are the town guards looking for us and the Prime Minister?!”

“I-Is this why the Prime Minister and the girl disappeared?” Kovalski muttered. “Did the guards take them?”

“Huh? But why?” Bella said.

“Shit…” Ivy bit down hard on her finger. “We’ll be in deep shit if the Prime Minister is gone.”

Panic and stress immediately spread across the Misfits’ faces. Meanwhile downstairs—

“Then go guard a door somewhere else!” one hyena shouted back.

The tension in the lobby kept rising.

“Move aside, scavengers!” a wolf guard barked.

“Make us, leash dog!” a hyena yelled back.

The wolf officer’s patience snapped.

“Fine!” he howled. “CHAAAARGE!!!”

The other wolf guards roared and rushed forward.

“Come here! Kekekeke!” the hyena leader laughed as his pack charged as well.

In the next second—

Both groups slammed into each other. Claws, teeth, weapons. The brawl between two rival dog species exploded across the lobby.

Upstairs, Irving immediately pulled out his handgun.

“Come on!” he ordered. “We need to find where the Prime Minister is from those guards!”

---

Prostitutes Lodging

Meanwhile, the missing green boarman that everyone was currently searching for was sitting comfortably inside the prostitutes’ lodging. Surrounded by beautiful beastman prostitutes. Warm tea sat on the table. Snacks were neatly arranged on plates, and Solo was listening very attentively to their life stories.

“So you two sisters were kidnapped from your village when you were children…” Solo said, his voice trembling.

He wiped his tears with a handkerchief and snorted loudly. Across from him, the two raccoon beastwoman sisters were also tearing up, clinging to each other for comfort.

“Yes, Mr. Solo,” the older sister said softly. “Thank you for listening to our story.”

The two of them stood up and respectfully moved aside, giving space on the couch. Candy stepped forward and took their place.

“That was the last girl,” Candy said.

She looked at Solo seriously.

“So please… will you help us, Mr. Solo?”

Solo nodded firmly.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I already decided to help all of you from the very beginning.”

Candy tilted her head slightly.

“Then… why did you need to hear every girl’s story first?”

Solo leaned back on the couch and looked up toward the ceiling with a solemn expression.

“Because,” he said with conviction, “this is what adventuring in a fantasy world should be.”

Candy blinked.

“Listening to everything the characters have to say when accepting a quest. I have been waiting for 130 years for this.” Solo’s tearing up again.

Candy tilted her head even further. She clearly had no idea what he was talking about.

“Anyway,” Solo said as he reached for his subspace bag, “since that Rondo guy has the town guards behind him and they’re already hunting me down…”

He opened the bag and began taking things out.

“…that means I can’t keep playing games with those Misfit idiots anymore.”

Solo glanced around the room. His eyes stopped at the simple dining table in the next room.

“Mind if I use your dining room to work?” Solo asked.

“S-sure,” Candy replied.

---

Moments later, several small drones quietly launched from the prostitutes’ lodging and rose into the night sky.

Inside the building, Solo had completely transformed the simple dining room into something else entirely. A command post.

Several screens were now set up across the table, glowing softly and multiple gremlins sat in front of them, each holding a tiny joystick as they operated the drones flying outside. In the corner of the room, a portable generator hummed steadily, supplying electricity to the equipment.

Candy and the other prostitutes stood nearby, staring in complete confusion at the strange devices Solo had produced.

“Alright, comms are already set up,” Solo said while checking the monitors.

“Drone B, fly to the slum area. Show me where the Misfits are.”

“Kii!” the gremlin operating Drone B replied enthusiastically.

Solo then looked toward another gremlin standing on the table. This one was clearly a messenger.

“Kiiikiii?” the gremlin asked while raising a letter that was nearly bigger than his own body.

“No, we don’t need that incriminating letter anymore,” Solo said. “The situation has changed.”

“Apparently the town guards are already hunting the Misfits… and unfortunately, us… even without that letter.”

Solo took the letter from the gremlin’s hands and replaced it with another one.

“Instead, I need you to deliver this letter,” Solo said. “Bring it to the dwarf merchant boat we used to get here. He said he would stay in Nyanjara for three days, so he should still be around.”

“Kii!” the messenger gremlin saluted energetically before rushing off.

Solo then turned back toward Candy.

“Don’t worry,” Solo said reassuringly. “This dwarf is one of the good ones. He’ll help you get out of here.”

Candy and the other prostitutes who heard that immediately brightened. Hope spread across their faces.

“Alright,” Solo continued as he turned back to the screens.

“Now we just need someone to escort these girls.” He crossed his arms and looked at the monitors again. “Let’s go pick up the Misfits.”

“Kiii!” the gremlin operating Drone B suddenly reported.

“Oh? Has your drone reached the slum already?” Solo asked.

He leaned closer to the Drone B monitor. Then he froze.

As the drone camera flew closer to the slum district, the picture became clearer. And what it showed was… chaos.

The slum area had somehow turned into a battlefield. Several buildings were burning, people are shouting. And on the streets below, slum thugs were fighting the town guards.

Solo stared at the screen.

“What the…”