Return of the Woodcutter

Passing by stalls, shops, beggars, and a few pleasure people (prostitutes). He kept his guard up for an eventual attack while playing with a fragment of the Ancient Shard in his pocket to canalize his anxiousness. Behind him, the sect's henchman wearing a grey cloak was doing a poor job of keeping a low profile.

Aito entered a magic item shop, used his remaining ten thousand TPs to buy ten more recovery beads and a few mana beads, then finally headed for the third floor.

On his way, he saw a few challengers remaining on the second floor running towards the fountain. Judging from their snippets of conversation Aito overheard, some people were causing a commotion at the Mall's central place and possibly elsewhere. Attracting the two moderators' attention.

'Not my problem,' he thought. Thinking how stupid it was to run watch a commotion for the sake of entertainment as if it were a show. 'But I can take advantage of that.'

Aito hadn't taken care of his stalker because he feared the consequences it could bring upon him. Not the sect, but the moderators. Those who were caught killing someone would be put into jail, known as the floor zero—although that only happened in cases when a moderator was pissed off. 

Also, the moderators needed to catch them doing the deed. Never did they launch investigations. Because it was an unwritten rule that killing a fellow challenger was also part of the Tower's daily life. Meaning part of the training.

So, as long as Aito wasn't busted, he would be fine.

At some point, when he felt the moment was right, he grabbed the repeater (his new crossbow) armed it, slowed down his walking cadence to reduce the distance between him and his stalker, then suddenly turned around to shoot a bolt at the henchman, only to miss by a small margin.

Now that he knew he was discovered, the henchman fled like a chicken chased by a fox. Too bad for him, the fox was equipped with a repeater.

The fox shot multiple times at his prey, the running speed making his aim uncertain, shaky. With determination, perseverance, and a bit of luck, he managed to shoot the running chicken in the leg, who lost a few feathers in the process.

An unbearable pain assailed the chicke... henchman as he lost his balance, crashed against the ground and screamed in pain at the sight of a bolt piercing his leg from one side through the other.

"AAAAh—"

Aito grabbed his mouth, interrupting the man's scream. Then he placed his repeater against the man's groins while keeping his finger on the trigger. He progressively pressed the weapon against the henchman's "two purses" while peering into the stalker's eyes with a fearsome glare.

"I'm going to leave you four choices," Aito said, tightening his grip on the man's neck. "One, you tell me what I want to know and I let you live. Two, you die. Three, you die. Four, die. Now, pick."

The man's arms trembled. His shoulders trembled. His legs trembled. In fact, his entire body trembled from fear as a bolt pointy tip pressed against the man's groins.

However, his fidelity to the sect pushed him to reveal nothing of the trap awaiting Aito.

At least that was what he thought would happen.

***

A few broken bones and gaping wounds later, the man explained everything Aito had kindly asked him to reveal. Which, by the way, wasn't enough to be breaking news. To put it in a nutshell, dozens of sect members were awaiting his arrival in disguise next to the staircase. 

As promised, Aito left the man alive—he'd soon die of blood loss anyway—without forgetting to borrow for an indefinite period of time the stalker's possessions.

Wearing the man's cloak, he set for the staircases leading to the third floor with an additional inventory bag containing a few recovery beads, mana beads, and even soul cores!

A real treasure trove, considering he needed those desperately. Although he did wonder why that man had those items on him.

Aito passed by almost empty streets, thinking about his options, which were:

1) Do absolutely nothing about the ambush. Wait it out until the commotions died down, and the moderators do their jobs.

2) Run into the trap willingly, like a raging bull. Rampaging their ranks to show them what he was made of.

3) A mix of both previous options. Use his newfound cloak to hide his identity, determine the surroundings. Kick their asses when/if the odds were in his favor.

'Yeap sounds like the best option,' he thought.

The most logical choice would have been the first. But what would it result in? If he didn't show his teeth, they would only try to take advantage of his passiveness.

He needed to send them a clear message: nobody messed with him.

Plus, they could serve as good practice partners to see how much he had grown after a week of training and see what he could improve.

He soon arrived close to the staircase leading up and stopped at a nearby stall to pretend perusing the merchandise.

In fact, dozens of men wearing grey cloaks similar to his were doing the exact same thing. Poor costumes for poor actors.

Who the heck had the idea of dressing all of them in grey cloaks? Common challengers all wore their equipment proudly in broad daylight. Those guys stood out like white stains on a black wall. Or like Jack's feces next to the French brand, L'Or*al's perfume.

Judging by the shop owners' unsatisfied faces, those sect fools had probably been doing so for quite a while now.

Their acting was terrible. They would have won an Oscar for it, albeit a plastic one delivered in comedy shows.

'1… 6… 15… 17… 20… and more?' Aito thought, counting their numbers. 'Wow, I'm flattered. Sam went all out. Bastard.'

There were dozens of them in the street and five actually posing as a group of friends awkwardly talking to each other next to the staircase.

"Can I help you, challenger?" A woman wearing a long blue robe asked behind her counter.

"No, thank you. I'm just perusing."

The woman clicked her tongue, apparently tired of having people perusing her articles this morning.

Aito turned back his attention to the sect members surrounding him while checking from time to time the memory beads the woman had to offer, avoiding crossing eyes with the other "actors" in the scene.

Then, two cloaked figures turned towards him. One giant person accompanied by a small one. Aito prepared his crossbow while having his hand in an inventory bag only stuffed with his double-handed ax. Showing this huge weapon outside would have exposed him at first sight.

But as the two cloaked figures neared him, he soon recognized the grey-haired man he had talked to during lunch breaks, whose cloak barely fit his huge frame, making it easier to distinguish his signature grey hair.

"What are you doing here, Ogoro?" Aito asked, holding his repeater at the ready. 

To him, if Ogoro was here, posing as a buyer like the others, it could only mean one thing. He was part of the sect.

Instantly, Ogoro's companion prepared his bow. But Ogoro signaled the person to calm down.

"Are you with them?" Aito asked, speaking in a low volume to avoid being overheard by the challengers surrounding them.

"We're just taking a stroll, since it seems to be an entertaining morning," Ogoro said, using his index finger to draw a circle in the air, hinting at the people posing as buyers. "All the challengers training on the third floor suddenly came down to watch those unusual events taking place here. It's pretty clear to me what's this all about though."

Aito sighed and relaxed his grip on the repeater. Those words were enough for him to guess why the man was here.

Ogoro has been bugging him about repaying his debt during every lunch break when he wasn't talking about his sister or how he would like to help others in this life, or just some other random topics.

Problem was, Aito didn't feel like leaving his back to someone else. Even if he started to appreciate the man, there was no real reason to trust him.

However, almost one week of talking with the man during lunch breaks had taught him one thing, Ogoro was a stubborn fellow.

"Just leave with whoever is accompanying you, Ogoro," Aito said, hinting at the person hiding his face. "I don't need help."

"See? That bastard doesn't need help." The person next to Ogoro said, with clear discontent. "Let's go, Goro."

"Bastard?" Aito said, perplexed. "Who the fuck are you to call me that?"

"None of your concern." The person replied.

"That Filona-like voice…" Aito said, suddenly remembering a certain woman he had saved around a month ago. That woman had replied exactly the same sentence with underlying disgust when Aito had asked about Ogoro's state. "You're that ungrateful woman."

"Well, she can be a bit spiky and cold, but I wouldn't call Sheyla ungrateful… hum… right?" Ogoro said, poking at his sister's side.

"I am grateful for your help. Here, I said it. Happy?" Sheyla said, eyeing at Ogoro before adding. "But he's still a shameless bastard."

A vein bulged on Aito's forehead as he heard the spiteful woman's reply. He hadn't expected her to prostrate herself like Ogoro had.

A simple "thank you" would have sufficed. It was the least she could do after he had risked his life to save her ungrateful ass.

But no, the insufferable woman wasn't even capable to form a sentence even a five-year-old could. She didn't even look at him when talking. As if she was ignoring his presence. On top of that, she called him a "shameless bastard" without a proper reason.

Well, maybe she had a good reason. If she was who Aito thought she was, then yeah. He had yet to take a closer look at her face, so he couldn't be certain. And his memories of the red trial were blurred with zombies.

After a week undergoing hellish training on the third floor, he had seen the woman quite a few times from afar. It hadn't been difficult to recognize her. After all, the only person Aito saw her speak to was Ogoro. From that point, it had been easy to piece the puzzle.

For some reason, she had avoided him until now. As if she had established an invisible security barrier, he wasn't allowed to pass.

"Oh, I'm truly touched by your sincere boundless gratefulness," Aito said with a sarcastic tone—still in a low volume. "But I wonder, does 'shameless bastard' translate to 'thank you' where you're from? The System doesn't seem to pick up your language correctly. Maybe I'll get an update soon. Ah… wait. Nope, doesn't show. Probably because you're just plain ungrateful."

"Calm down," Ogoro intervened, putting himself in between the two while inspecting the surrounding sect members, who were starting to take an interest in their conversations. "Although I appreciate that you two seem to get along, I don't think it's the right place for a talk."

Realizing what was happening around them, Sheyla stopped bickering with Aito and clicked her tongue.

At that particular moment, appeared someone Aito hadn't seen for an entire week and would soon come to regret that guy hadn't disappeared forever.

There was Roan with a beaming smile. The only one wearing a cloak of a different color. The only one standing in the middle of the street staring at him suspiciously, until…

"If it isn't the black challenger!" He exclaimed, his voice echoing in the almost silent street. He strode towards Aito as if he was excited to hear about his one-week adventure in the Tower—though not much really happened since the last time they met.

At those words, the dozens of cloaked figures in the street turned towards Roan, then Aito, who was already drawing his giant ax.

"Really?" Ogoro said, drawing his long sword despite Aito's refusal for his help.

"Dumbass," Sheyla cursed, nocking an arrow on her bowstring.

"Did you do that on purpose, you bastard?" Aito said, starting to activate Durability to coat his armor and weapon.

"Hun? What are you…"

An arrow aimed at Aito flew by him, missing Roan by a tiny bit, and rebounded on Aito's full plated armor coated with Durability.

"Oh shit! Oh shit! Oh shi—"