Chapter 5: Unconventional Conditions

Ren took a slow, calculated breath, letting the cool evening air settle the lingering adrenaline in his chest. He exhaled sharply, crossing his arms over his chest as his dark eyes locked onto the woman standing before him.

"Fine," Ren said, his tone carrying a firm, unyielding edge. "I’ll join your squad. I’ll take on this Hero contract with you. But I have one condition. A non-negotiable one."

The woman blinked, leaning her head back slightly as a fine eyebrow arched upward. "A condition? You’re in no position to be making demands, yet here you are. What is it?"

Ren gave a single, solid nod.

In the quiet solitude of his mind, the gears were already turning rapidly. A golden opportunity had practically dropped straight into his lap. Why on earth should he waste precious hours scouring back alleys and perilous ruins for scraps on his own when he could leverage this woman’s influence, status, and deep pockets to do the heavy lifting for him? With an abundant supply of raw, discarded materials, he could feed his System, hoard vast reserves of Chaos Matter, and construct a fortress-level arsenal before he ever had to step foot outside the safety of the kingdom’s massive stone walls again.

He needed preparation. Absolute, meticulous preparation.

"And what exactly might this grand condition be?" she pressed, her emerald eyes narrowing into suspicious slits as she folded her arms beneath her chest.

"Take me to a place overflowing with discarded, broken junk," Ren stated, his voice dripping with supreme confidence. "I want scraps. Abandoned weapons, rusted armor, shattered tools, ruined relics—anything and everything that no longer functions, holds zero monetary value, or has been deemed total garbage by the rest of this city."

The woman froze. For several long seconds, she simply stared at him in dead silence, her lips parted slightly as though she were trying to discern whether he was throwing an elaborate joke or if he was genuinely insane. To her, this young man holding a terrifying, magicless death-contraption was asking for literal garbage instead of gold, high-grade mana crystals, or forged steel.

"Huh...?" she managed to sputter out, her voice filled with utter bewilderment. "Trash? That’s what you’re asking for?"

"If you can’t fulfill that single, simple request," Ren said flatly, keeping his expression completely unreadable, "then our deal is off. Find yourself another partner."

He turned squarely on his heel, taking a deliberate step away into the shadowed street.

He barely made it half a pace before a soft, slender hand shot forward, grasping his wrist with surprising strength and yanking him back.

"Wait! Fine, fine!" she conceded hastily, letting out a defeated sigh as she released her grip. "If useless junk is truly what your heart desires, I’ll take you to a place where garbage is piled sky-high. Just stop walking away!"

A subtle, triumphant smirk touched the corner of Ren’s lips before vanishing just as quickly. Hook, line, and sinker.

"Lead the way, then," he said smoothly, gesturing for her to take the lead.

The woman shook her head in sheer exasperation, turning around to lead the way through the labyrinthine streets of the capital.

Ren fell into step a few paces behind her, his vigilant eyes constantly scanning the sprawling environment of the city around them. All around them, the capital city of the Starlight Kingdom pulsed with vibrant, unbothered life. Street vendors standing behind sturdy oak stalls hawked freshly baked bread, roasted game meats, and aromatic foreign spices from distant provinces. Open-air smithies clanged rhythmically as burly blacksmiths hammered away at glowing iron bars, sending cascades of orange sparks fluttering into the twilight air. Children dressed in simple linen tunics giggled and chased one another through the cobblestone avenues, their laughter echoing off the timber-and-stone facades of the two-story buildings.

High above the bustling crowds, long crimson and gold banners emblazoned with the royal crest fluttered proudly in the evening breeze, perfectly framing the majestic, sky-piercing spires of the royal castle looming in the distant background.

Yet, as Ren absorbed the lively scene, a profound sense of eerie detachment washed over him.

Looking at these ordinary townsfolk going about their daily routines, smiling, bargaining, and living without a care in the world, he couldn’t help but marvel at the haunting irony of it all. Just beyond these towering, enchanted stone walls—less than a few miles into the dark wilderness—bloodthirsty, eldritch abominations roamed freely in the shadows. Just last night, a six-man squad of elite, heavily armored royal guards had been slaughtered, crushed, and torn to pieces in a matter of seconds. He had watched their blood splatter across the damp forest soil with his own eyes.

Does the populace even know their elite defenders were wiped out like insects?* Ren pondered deeply, his gaze shifting up toward the pristine white battlements of the city walls. Or is this peaceful atmosphere nothing more than a carefully crafted, fragile illusion maintained by the royals to prevent widespread panic?

As he pondered the bleak reality of this world, his sharp eyes suddenly caught a flicker of movement in a dark alleyway straight ahead.

Standing quietly within the deep shadows of the stone passage was a mysterious woman.

She wore an exquisite, off-shoulder silk gown of deep violet, perfectly accentuating her graceful figure. Her long, dark hair cascaded down her back like a midnight curtain, ending in striking, vibrant purple gradients at the tips that seemed to glow subtly under the moonlight. But what caught Ren’s attention most were her eyes—sharp, piercing, and icy cold, locked directly onto his face with unnatural intensity.

Ren’s brows furrowed tightly. *Who the hell is she? Why is she staring at me like I owe her my life?*

To confirm he wasn’t misinterpreting a coincidence, Ren briefly glanced back over his shoulder, pretending to adjust his collar. The main street behind them was gradually thinning out as they ventured deeper into the quieter, industrial district of the city. But when he snapped his eyes back toward the dark alleyway ahead, the alley was completely empty. The purple-haired woman had vanished into thin air, leaving no trace behind.

A sudden, prickly chill crept up the back of Ren’s neck, making his skin crawl. Driven by an acute instinct that he was being actively hunted or monitored, Ren imperceptibly quickened his pace until he was walking shoulder-to-shoulder with his green-dressed companion.

The woman glanced sideways at him, catching the sudden tension in his jaw and the hyper-vigilance in his eyes, but she merely raised an eyebrow and kept her mouth shut, focusing on navigating the turns.

A few minutes later, the sweet smell of roasted meats and spices completely faded, replaced by the heavy, pungent odor of rust, rotting wood, and oxidized magic ores. They had arrived at their destination.

Before them stretched a massive, sprawling municipal scrapyard enclosed by rickety wooden fences. Towering piles of rusted iron plates, broken carriage wheels, shattered magical implements, discarded wooden beams, and corroded metallic relics were stacked like small, jagged mountains beneath the open night sky.

"...Wow."

The single word slipped from Ren’s lips in a breathless whisper. His dark eyes sparkled with pure, unadulterated delight as he took a step forward, staring at the vast sea of garbage.

To any ordinary citizen or merchant in the Starlight Kingdom, this place was an unbearable eyesore—a foul, worthless dump of bio-waste and broken scrap waiting to be incinerated or buried. But to Ren, whose mind operated on the mechanics of the Chaos Architect System, this place was nothing short of an untouched, boundless goldmine. It was an endless treasure trove of raw Chaos Matter and Chaos Points, the exact foundational building blocks he needed to assemble his future high-tech arsenal.

The woman turned around to face him, her jaw practically hanging open as she watched him react to a pile of garbage with the enthusiasm of a child opening a chest of gold coins.

"This is the central municipal disposal site for the southern district," she explained slowly, waving a hand toward the mountainous heaps of trash. "Broken guard equipment, ruined construction materials, and failed magical experiments end up here before being cleared out once a month. Is... is this nightmare of a dump really what you wanted?"

"It’s better than I could have ever imagined," Ren replied, a genuine, broad smile breaking across his face as he turned back to look at her.

Taking a measured step forward, Ren straightened his stance, forcing his expression back into a cool, composed demeanor. "Alright, miss. Since you’ve fulfilled your end of the bargain, let’s officially formalize our agreement."

The woman’s playful exasperation vanished, replaced by a grave, professional solemnity. "So, you’re officially accepting my proposal? You’ll join my squad as my partner for the Hero Contract?"

"I am," Ren nodded smoothly. Without thinking, he extended his right hand out toward her, palm open, offering a firm grip.

The woman froze. She stared down at his outstretched hand, her face contorting into a complete mask of utterly lost confusion. She looked at his palm, then up at his face, then back down at his palm again, as if waiting for a magical spell or a hidden trick to reveal itself.

Seeing her frozen, bewildered reaction, Ren raised an eyebrow. "What’s wrong?"

"What... what on earth are you doing with your hand?" she asked hesitantly, her fingers hovering nervously near the hilt of her sidearm. "Is this some sort of magical ritual? A curse?"

Ren offered a dry, slightly awkward laugh, rubbing the back of his neck as realization finally dawned on him. Right. Earth customs. Handshakes probably don’t exist in a medieval fantasy world.

"It’s called a handshake," Ren explained smoothly, keeping his hand extended with a confident smirk. "It’s a customary gesture from my... distant hometown. When two people reach an agreement or seal a contract, they shake hands as a physical sign of mutual trust and respect."

The woman frowned slightly, scrutinizing his hand for a few agonizing seconds. "What a bizarre, primitive custom..."

Despite her verbal skepticism, she stepped forward, extended her own fair, delicate hand, and wrapped her fingers around his, giving it a firm, decisive shake. "Very well. Under the eyes of the stars, our contract is sealed."

Ren smiled softly, feeling the warmth of her grip.

However, as they shook hands, Ren’s sharp peripheral vision caught a subtle, shadowed movement in the distance over her shoulder.

Standing quietly at the perimeter of the scrapyard, partially concealed behind the rotting frame of a broken wooden wagon, was the exact same woman from earlier.

The purple off-shoulder gown, the long hair bleeding into vibrant violet gradients, and those piercing, terrifying eyes—she was standing there, silent as a phantom, her intense gaze locked squarely onto Ren’s face once again.

Ren’s eyes narrowed into dangerous slits, his grip on his companion’s hand tightening reflexively for a split second before he let go.

A cold, heavy knot of unease tightened violently in his gut. It was no longer a suspicion; it was a confirmed fact. She had tailed them through the central district, navigated the alleyways, and tracked them all the way to the isolated outskirts of the city.

Who the hell is that woman...? his blood running cold as his eyes remained deadlocked with hers across the silent, moonlit scrapyard.