Arcane: Twin Cities Mechanic

Half an hour ago.

The Lanes, the well-lit Last Drop Tavern.

Vi and Powder lounged at the edge of the bar, idly toying with the juice-filled glasses before them.

Powder bit the straw, drained the juice, then turned to Vander, who had just returned from delivering three drinks to a table, and couldn't help but ask, "Vander, when can we go out again?"

Vander wiped his hands with the towel draped over his shoulder, sounding somewhat helpless, "Ah, why are you always thinking about going out?"

"It's really boring staying at home all the time!" Powder pouted, glancing at her sister, "Ask Vi if you don't believe me."

Upon hearing her sister mention her, Vi turned her head, and their eyes met with Vander's.

She opened her mouth but dared not speak, covering the bruises on her face and turning away, feeling guilty.

"A few days ago, you came back so late, and you let Powder twist her foot. I didn't say anything about that. I remember it was the day before yesterday, right? What were you doing in Deckard's neighborhood? Got into a fight with those thugs?" 

As soon as Decca's name was mentioned, Vi's internal anger flared up. "We were just passing by!"

"Just passing by... Passing by and still getting into a conflict with those hooligans?" Vander wiped the glass, somewhat annoyed. "Moreover, Deckard's territory is at the border of the lanes. There's nothing there. What were you doing there?"

"I..." Under his questioning, Vi's confidence waned, "He sent people to provoke us first..."

"I've said it several times, don't provoke those hooligans. As long as you're still in the lanes, they won't dare to touch you. Why don't you listen?"

"That's right, when you were young, would you have swallowed your pride if someone provoked you?" Vi stared, stubbornly retorting.

"You..." Vander suddenly lost his temper, "that's different."

He sighed, memories of events from several years ago involuntarily surfacing in his mind. Red smoke, rivers of blood, limbs scattered...

And the familiar faces falling under the barrel, dying in front of him.

Vander shook his head, trying to push those unforgettable scenes to the back of his mind.

"You're still young; you don't understand."

"I really don't understand." Vi's tone became more confrontational. "In my eyes, Vander shouldn't be a pushover who just accepts whatever comes his way!"

Hearing her speak of him like that, Vander angrily slapped the table. "Enough!"

The noisy inn suddenly fell silent, and everyone's gaze focused on them.

After a second or two, everyone continued with their own activities.

It's their boss' family matter; they had no business interfering.

"It's getting late; you should go to sleep." Vander threw out this sentence, took away the glasses in front of them, and turned away, continuing to work with a dark expression.

Vi, in a fit, snorted and walked towards the stairs leading to the underground part of the bar.

Powder, unsure of what to do, looked at the now-angry Vander and then at her sister who left without saying a word.

She couldn't understand why they were arguing over such a small matter.

At this moment, the wind chimes at the entrance of the Last Drop Inn tinkled.

"May the Haze not enter your home. Welcome to the Last Drop Inn. How may I help you with...?"

Vander, who had just turned around, abruptly stopped speaking.

In front of him was a very familiar figure, one he hadn't seen for several years.

"Silco..." Vander's face changed, "Powder, quickly find your sister, don't come out."

"But..." 

"No nonsense, go quickly."

Vander's attitude frightened Powder.

Feeling somewhat wronged, she glanced at the "guest" who had just entered, then tiptoed down the stairs on one side.

All the eyes in the inn were now focused on the thin man with "demonic" terrifying eyes and the few followers accompanying him.

Even a few intoxicated individuals brandished sharp weapons they carried with them.

Silco, expressionless, walked slowly to the bar, casually selecting a swivel chair to sit on.

Leaning his arm on the table, he crossed his hands, lifting his chin. "What, not welcoming an old friend?"

"You, I've warned you long ago not to set foot in the Lanes," Vander gritted his teeth, words bursting out one by one, "Take your people and get out of my tavern, or..."

"It seems your temper has mellowed over the years, brother."

Silco interrupted Vander, completely ignoring his warning, his words filled with a mocking tone.

"If it were like before, you would have already put on those iron knuckles and threw me out."

He glanced at the pair of metallic knuckles hanging on the upper right side of the bar.

"Consider yourself lucky... If you force me to put them on again, it won't end well."

Vander clenched his fist, slamming the table. Everyone in the tavern stared at Silco and his men, almost everyone pulling out various weapons.

His henchmen confronted them coldly, but none dared to make a move.

Because whoever made the first move would turn this standoff into a bloody armed conflict.

With their boss silent, these underlings couldn't bear such responsibility.

"For the safety of you and your men, leave now. I won't pursue what happens tonight," Vander warned.

"Heh!" Silco shook his head with a cold laugh. "Compared to before, you've changed a lot. Did the Upper City folks tame the infamous black hound?"

"I don't need you to worry about how I've changed, Silco."

Seeing Vander's patience reaching its limit, Silco stopped beating around the bush. "Actually, I came to you for something very important today."

"Get lost, take your people, and your mess," Vander had already taken the iron knuckles from the shelf, his expression icy. "I won't remind you a third time."

A hint of disappointment flashed in Silco's eyes. "I wanted to have a proper conversation with you... but it's a pity you missed the chance."

Vander didn't intend to waste more words; he immediately put on the metal knuckles and threw a punch at Silco's face.

At the same time, people in the tavern, seeing their boss taking action, made various strange sounds, rushing towards Silco and his men.

Silco easily dodged a punch, showing no signs of fear. "Ah, what a bother..."

"Roar!"

Just then, accompanied by a roar that sounded nothing like a human, the doors of The Last Drop shattered as a colossal creature, its skin pulsating with purple liquid-filled veins, rammed through.

Vander's henchmen were startled by this sudden noise.

But before they could react, the creature, at least two meters tall, rampaged through the crowd at an almost imperceptible speed.

In less than 5 seconds, over twenty of Vander's men were knocked down by the creature.

Blood covered the tavern, chaos reigning everywhere.

Vander's henchmen were sprawled everywhere, all unconscious.

The lightly injured had at least a dozen fractures on their bodies, and those critically injured were barely breathing, their lives slipping away even with immediate rescue.

"No!" Shock and sorrow filled Vander's pupils. "You bastard, what have you done?!"

Facing the sight before him, a burning anger ignited within him. He exerted all his strength to throw a powerful punch, aiming at Silco's temple.

But in the next second, the creature with purple veins easily caught his right hand wearing the metal knuckles.

this... or rather, "it", was just five meters away a moment ago.

Vander's pupils contracted. "Impossible!"

"Nothing's impossible, Vander," Silco said coldly.

As the words fell, he gestured to the creature.

"Roar!"

The creature let out an angry scream, landing a punch on Vander's face.

He staggered backward, falling to the ground, unconscious without making a sound.

Silco gazed at the unconscious Vander, a complex emotion flashing in his eyes.

"This is power... My brother, is the power of the Undercity."

(End of this chapter)