WorldCrafter - Building My Underground Kingdom-Chapter 175 - Zarnak, Ember Guard Captain

175: Zarnak, Ember Guard Captain

175: Zarnak, Ember Guard Captain

The order had barely left his mouth before the others sprang into motion.

The species with crystal spears, slammed their spears forward.

The feline warrior vanished into a blur, reappearing behind Ben with a silent slash of twin daggers.

The scaled fighters weaved spells, summoning arcs of molten light that twisted through the air like serpents.

But it all pose no challenge for Ben.

He ducked under the spear thrust, catching the haft and twisting it sideways, slamming its wielder into a nearby wall.

The feline came next, fast, silent, but Ben pivoted, letting her blade glance off his shoulder as he swept her legs out with a spin-kick.

She hit the ground hard and didn’t rise.

A sharp arc of magic came for his chest.

He flicked a dagger through it, the venom-laced blade dispersing the spell mid-flight, then followed with a rush.

The caster barely had time to blink before Ben was in his face, smashing an elbow into his chin and dropping him flat.

“Too slow,” Ben said flatly, sidestepping the captain’s returning halberd strike.

The Nephirid captain roared, slamming his halberd down like a falling star.

Ben danced to the side, then dashed forward, slipping inside the guard, his dagger pressing against the captain’s throat.

“Weak” Ben whispered coldly.

The square fell silent, the air thick with the crackle of residual mana and the scent of scorched stone.

Breathing hard, the captain’s eyes locked with Ben’s.

“You’re insane,” he growled.

“No, You’re the one crazy one,” Ben replied, pulling the dagger back and stepping away.

“Name?”

“Za… Zarnak, Captain of the Molten Guard, Krahal-zir,” the old Nephirid muttered.

Ben took a step forward, his eyes narrowing.

“Then answer me, Captain, why a crucial facility on this city is protected by bunch of ruffian?”

Zarnak hesitated.

“That’s…”

“What?” Ben’s tone cut sharp.

“Cat got your tongue?”

He turned his gaze to the battered guards slumped nearby, eyes flicking between confusion and disbelief.

Their attacker had beat them in seconds, and now their captain answer his question obediently.

Ben stepped closer, his voice dropping, colder.

“I’m your new city lord.

It’s been a full week since I killed Kharvek in the arena.

So tell me, Captain, why does this city like this?

Why does it look like no one’s in charge?”

Zarnak’s lips tightened.

He didn’t speak, but the strain in his throat was obvious

“You’ve served here a long time, haven’t you?” His voice hardened.

“Are you going to explain what’s going on here… or do I have to rip it out of you?”

Zarnak glanced at his men, then lowered his voice.

“City Lord… can we speak somewhere more private?”

Ben’s eyes narrowed.

“Why dodge the question?”

But then he sighed, waving a hand.

“Fine.

I’ll wait at the security post.

Bring your squad to the healer before they start bleeding on the street.”

He turned on his heel and started walking.

Elvira follow beside him, arms crossed.

“Poor old man.

Probably just another pawn they left behind.”

Ben raised an eyebrow.

“I thought you hated Nephirid.”

“I do,” she replied without hesitation.

“But that doesn’t change facts.

A victim’s still a victim.

My guess?

The city’s Reagent and half the bureaucrats ran the moment word reached them you won the duel.”

Ben let out a low hum.

“Cowards, then.”

“Or opportunists,” Elvira said with a smirk.

“Either way, we clean up their mess.”

Ben leaned back in his seat, fingers tapping the armrest as his mind churned.

“Well… I guess it’s a good thing we don’t have to clean out any loyalists.

But still, just walking out like this, won’t they be branded as traitors?”

Elvira shook her head.

“Not quite.

There’s a loophole.

Leaving can mark you as a traitor, yes… but not if you’re recruited by another city.

I read through the civil codes, every city official has the right to transfer if they don’t agree with the new lord.”

Ben scoffed.

“A society ruled by strength, and yet here they are hiding behind bureaucratic nonsense.”

His gaze darkened.

It was obvious to him now, this clause was crafted by nobles for nobles.

A legal escape hatch, so they could slither out of power transitions without risk.

“I really thought we’d have at least sometime before they make any move,” he muttered.

“They’re Nephirid,” Elvira said with a shrug.

“Most of them probably think you’d kill them all just to make a statement.

Remember, a city lord’s power is absolute unless an Ashking or a Flame Priest intervenes.

You could raze the entire district and no one would bat an eye.”

Ben snorted.

“Who in their right mind would do that?

…Well, unless they actually deserved it.”

“They’re corrupt for sure,” Elvira replied evenly.

“The only question is how much?”

Ben’s eyes flicked toward the edge of the balcony, down to the lava canal running cold and empty beneath them.

“They even took the boats…”

“They are expensive,” Elvira said.

“We’ll have to replace them eventually.”

“Or make our own,” Ben countered, already shifting his thoughts toward logistics.

“As long as we have the old schematics, I can rebuild them easily.

On paper, we’ll say Draeven bought the entire fleet, make it sound like he’s setting up a naval campaign.”

Elvira chuckled.

“That would explain the funds, at least.”

Ben nodded.

Tzarek, the identity he used, was a mere soldier, no wealth, no connections.

But Draeven, as an Ashborn, held prestige and authority.

Every mission paid well, and nobles often bribed them just to stay off their radar.

After all, Ashborn were the Ashking’s executioners.

If one labeled you a traitor, your life was as good as forfeit.

They could kill first and forge proof later, no one would question a corpse.

Of course, that only worked if the target had no strong backing in the capital.

Otherwise… things got political.

Complicated.

And Ben had no patience for complicated.

After so long living among Krell and Elvira, simplicity had become a kind of comfort.

Orders were orders.

Loyalty was absolute.

No need for masks or posturing.

No games of favor or veiled threats.

Just action, results, survival.

His eyes narrowed as he looked at Zarnak coming at their direction.

“Well,” Ben muttered, voice calm but edged, “let’s hope the old man has more answers than excuses.”