Chapter 150: Black Faction (2)

I looked toward the back pillar where Carmilla’s eyes had landed.

Sitting on a raised leather sofa surrounded by four heavily armed guards was a tall, lean man with slicked-back silver hair and a sharp, scar-lined face. He was wearing an expensive black suit. On the back of his right hand was a dark, ink-stained tattoo—a black shield with a broken sword.

It was the official emblem of The Black Faction Guild’s local management.

’That must be the local branch manager. If I pass this test and get a freelancer pass, I’ll be able to infiltrate successfully.’

Before I could scan the rest of the arena, a loud, static-filled voice echoed through the screeching loudspeakers overhead.

"ATTENTION, RATS AND RECRUITS!"

A heavy-set man standing inside the central iron cage raised a large brass microphone to his mouth. He was wearing heavy steel gauntlets and a leather apron stained with dry blood.

"We have two new applicants looking for freelancer passes today!" the announcer roared into the mic, pointing his massive gauntlet straight toward Carmilla and me. "Alias ’Ghost’ and ’Red’! Step into the cage!"

The crowd of rough mercenary hunters surrounding the fighting pit let out a wave of dark chuckles, whistles, and jeers.

"More fresh meat for the pit!" a scarred hunter shouted from the steel railing, slamming his glass bottle against the iron bar.

"Look at that skinny kid!" another mercenary laughed mockingly. "He won’t last ten seconds in there! Who let a child into the eastern hub?!"

Carmilla’s jaw tightened slightly under her dark beanie. Her vampiric pride was subtly flaring up at the insults, but I reached over and lightly touched her elbow to keep her steady and calm.

"Remember," I whispered as we stepped toward the iron cage door. "Keep it simple and clean. Don’t show any blood magic or high-tier power. We just need those freelancer badges so I can access their private job board."

"I understand, Woo Jin," Carmilla murmured softly.

We stepped through the open iron gate into the center of the dusty concrete ring. The heavy steel door slammed shut behind us with a loud BANG, locking us inside.

Across the ring, a heavy side door creaked open, and three massive, heavy-set men stepped into the cage.

They weren’t normal low-rank hunters. They were modified mercenary enforcers—their bodies bulged with artificial mana-enhancing drugs, their vein-filled necks popping out, and their eyes glowing with a dull, sickly green light. Each of them carried a heavy iron club studded with rusted steel spikes.

The announcer in the leather apron stepped up to the outer edge of the cage railing.

"The rules of the recruitment test are simple!" the announcer yelled into the microphone. "Survive three minutes against our pit hounds! If you knock them down or stay standing when the timer hits zero, you get your freelancer badge! If you fall... well, try not to die!"

The crowd roared in wild excitement, banging their fists against the iron bars until the whole steel structure rattled.

The three green-eyed enforcers grinned savagely, cracking their thick knuckles as they slowly spread out to surround us from three sides.

"Which one do you want to break first, boss?" the lead enforcer sneered, lifting his heavy iron club onto his shoulder as he stared down at me. "We can snap the kid’s legs first, or we can start with his quiet friend back there."

I slowly pulled my iron dagger from my lower belt, my fingers wrapping tightly around the worn leather hilt. My eyes narrowed behind my face mask, my heart rate steady and cold. This was my first real step into Black’s network, and I wasn’t going to fail here.

Beside me, Carmilla didn’t even pull a weapon. She simply shifted her weight, her heavy leather boots pressing lightly against the dusty concrete floorboards, her spatial awareness locked onto all three attackers.

"Woo Jin," Carmilla whispered, her voice cool, calm, and completely devoid of fear.

"Yeah?"

"How many seconds should we give them?"

A small, confident grin touched my lips beneath my black mask.

"Let’s make it thirty," I said.

The heavy brass gong above the cage rang out with a deafening CLANG!

"KILL THEM!" the crowd screamed.

The lead enforcer burst forward, his heavy iron club swinging in a wide, vicious horizontal arc aimed straight for my head. The wind whistled harshly as the rusted spikes cut through the air.

I didn’t step back. I didn’t even raise my dagger to block.

I dipped my shoulder lower, letting the heavy iron club pass a single inch above my hair. Before the lead enforcer could recover his balance, I drove my right palm straight into his exposed ribs.

BOOM!

A sharp burst of my raw mana released from my palm. The massive man let out a breathless gasp as his thick armor cracked, his feet sliding backward across the dusty concrete floor until he hit the iron bars with a heavy thud.

At the exact same time, the second enforcer lunged at Carmilla from behind, raising his spiked club with both hands to crush her shoulder.

Carmilla didn’t even turn her head.

Without taking her hands out of her hoodie pockets, she casually leaned her upper body two inches to the left. The heavy club smashed into the concrete ground where she had been standing half a second ago, sending sparks and stone dust flying into the air.

Before the attacker could pull his weapon out of the cracked floor, Carmilla lifted her right boot and delivered a lightning-fast back kick straight to his chest.

BANG!

The force of her suppressed physical strength hit the man like an oncoming truck. His heavy chest plate caved in, and his body flew backward across the cage, crashing violently into the iron door before slumping onto the ground, completely unconscious.

The entire crowd around the cage went dead silent.

The laughter, the jeering, and the shouting vanished in less than ten seconds. The mercenaries standing along the railing stared into the cage with wide, stunned eyes, their beer glasses frozen halfway to their mouths.

"W-What the..." someone in the crowd stammered.

The third enforcer, who had been charging from the left, froze mid-stride. His dull green eyes flickered with sudden, overwhelming terror as he looked from his unconscious buddy on the floor back to Carmilla, who was still standing quietly with her hands in her pockets.

"Monster..." the third enforcer muttered, his hands trembling as he held his iron club up defensively.

I stepped forward, spinning my iron dagger in my hand until the flat side of the blade rested against my forearm.

CRACK!

His head snapped back, his eyes rolling into the back of his skull as he collapsed like a sack of bricks onto the dusty floorboards.

I stood up straight, sheathing my iron dagger back into my belt.

I checked the large iron clock hanging above the cage.

Exactly fourteen seconds had passed since the gong rang.

Carmilla stood beside me, her dark beanie still perfectly in place, her tinted sunglasses hiding her eyes. She hadn’t even broken a sweat.

"Is that thirty seconds?" Carmilla asked softly, her voice carrying zero emotion.

"Fourteen," I replied under my mask, dusting off my leather sleeve. "You overachieved."

The silence in the underground arena lasted for three long seconds before the heavy-set announcer in the bloody apron dropped his brass microphone onto the floor.

FEEDBACK SCREECH!

The announcer scrambled to pick up the mic, his face pale as he looked over at the raised leather sofa near the back pillar.

The silver-haired branch manager in the expensive black suit slowly stood up from his leather sofa. His sharp, scar-lined face had lost its bored expression. He looked down at the three unconscious enforcers lying on the floor, and then turned his cold grey eyes straight onto Carmilla and me.

Slowly, the branch manager began to clap his hands together.

CLAP. CLAP. CLAP.

"Impressive," the silver-haired manager said, his smooth, cold voice broadcasting clearly through the arena speakers. "No unnecessary blood, no wasted movements. Just raw efficiency. Open the cage."

The iron door was quickly unlocked, and two terrified guards hurried inside to drag the unconscious enforcers out by their boots.

Carmilla and I stepped out of the cage, the crowd of mercenary hunters parting instantly to make a wide path for us. Nobody called us skinny or weak anymore.

The rough hunters lowered their heads, watching us with deep caution and fear as we walked straight toward the back pillar.

We stopped five feet away from the raised leather sofa. The four heavily armed guards around the silver-haired manager placed their hands on their sword hilts, but the manager raised a slender finger, telling them to stand down.

"I am Vane," the silver-haired manager said, leaning against his leather seat. "Branch Manager of The Black Faction’s eastern network. I don’t care about your real names, and I don’t care about your pasts. You survived the pit in fourteen seconds. That makes you qualified for high-tier freelancer passes."

Vane reached into his suit jacket and pulled out two thick, matte-black iron badges stamped with the broken-sword emblem. He tossed them casually toward us.

I caught both black badges smoothly in mid-air, handing one to Carmilla while keeping the other in my palm. The iron was cold, heavy, and engraved with a unique five-digit identification code.

"Those badges grant you access to our private job board," Vane explained, his eyes locking onto mine. "You can take unrecorded monster hunts, buy black-market materials, or hire out your blades to syndicate parties. In exchange, the guild takes a ten percent cut of all your contract payouts."

"Fair enough," I said, keeping my voice deep and calm.