Chapter 85: Fire-Stealing Marvel
Lance collected his thoughts and deliberately lowered his voice, affecting a menacing tone:
"Next time I catch you, you’re dead."
After speaking, he bent down and picked up the money pouch from the ground.
He weighed it in his hand, listening to the crisp jingle of Silver Coins colliding inside. Nodding in satisfaction, he casually tucked it into his coat.
Then, without even a second glance at the man on the ground, Lance turned and left. His movements were clean and decisive.
Watching the back of the figure quickly disappear at the mouth of the alley, the tracker lying on the ground was completely dumbfounded.
’He just... left?’
’Did he actually believe my story about being an Ordinary pickpocket?’
’No interrogation about who’s behind this? No suspicion about my motives?’
He had even concocted three entire sets of lies to get himself out of this, but he didn’t get to use a single one.
This completely off-script move left him questioning his life choices for a moment.
"Hiss..."
A sharp pain from his ribs made him suck in a cold breath, pulling his thoughts back to reality.
The tracker clutched his chest and struggled to his feet, a venomous look in his eyes.
’That guy’s Power is terrifying.’
Just from a simple head slam and an elbow strike, the overwhelming sense of power still left him shaken.
Based on his experience, the man’s Strength Attribute had to be approaching the upper limit for Non-Professionals.
This was an extremely important piece of intelligence. He had to report back to the boss immediately.
"Hmph..."
The tracker spat out a mouthful of bloody saliva.
As for the money pouch that was taken...
’Hmph, I’m just letting you hold on to it for now.’
Gritting his teeth, he staggered away, leaning on the wall for support as he headed toward the other end of the alley.
Lance walked out of the dim alley, his pace once again becoming unhurried.
He found a corner and, after confirming no one was watching, opened the system panel with a thought.
Just as he’d expected. Information on the unlucky bastard he had just let go was now clearly listed in the newest tab of the Illustrated Guide.
[Name: Jeff]
[Affiliation: Ghoul Dogs (Small-time Criminal Gang)]
[Codename/Function: Camp Rat]
Seeing this, Lance raised an eyebrow.
The way the Illustrated Guide was displayed this time was completely different from Hakon’s panel.
Behind Jeff’s name, the black entry representing his affiliation was blinking faintly, as if enticing him to click it.
Without hesitation, Lance touched the black [Ghoul Dogs] entry with his consciousness.
SWOOSH.
A concise yet shocking organizational chart unfolded before his eyes.
The gang wasn’t large, with about ten members all told, and its structure was simple to the point of being crude.
On this tree chart, the specific function of each member was clearly marked behind their name. There were even animated portraits next to them.
Lance opened the detailed description for Jeff’s role, [Camp Rat].
[Function Description: Permanently stationed at temporary supply points on the forest’s edge or along major routes. Responsible for observing passing Adventurer parties, specifically marking "fat sheep" who are returning with a full load but have let their guard down, as well as battered squads that are heavily wounded from battle. Responsible for initial tracking and reporting the target’s location.]
Above him were other roles, such as the "Razor," responsible for laundering stolen goods; the "Hyena," responsible for assassinations and silencing witnesses; and finally, the "Gold Washer," responsible for fencing the goods and converting them to cash.
It was a complete criminal enterprise.
These people couldn’t be bothered to fight ferocious Demons. Their prey was their own kind—those who had just survived a life-or-death battle and were utterly exhausted.
A cold glint flashed in Lance’s eyes.
It reminded him of when he had first transmigrated.
The unlucky original owner of his body might have died at the hands of a gang just like these hyenas.
This kind of scum, who treated Adventurers like idiots and sucked the blood from the dead, truly deserved to die.
However, the Illustration System could only show him the organization’s structure; it couldn’t explain why Jeff had suddenly targeted him today.
Lance closed the chart and his gaze fell back to the bottom of Jeff’s personal panel.
It was the section he was most looking forward to: [Secrets].
’Perhaps only here can I dig up some truly valuable information.’
[Jeff’s Secrets]
[Secret 1: He recently discovered that his boss, Buck, is hiding something incredible. It seems to be a "Fire-Stealing Marvel."]
[He’s certain it’s definitely not some trashy, Prank-Level item, because during their last retreat, he personally saw the boss use it, which was the only reason the entire team managed to escape their pursuers.]
’A Fire-Stealing Marvel?!’
Lance was no stranger to the term.
In the travelogues and novels that recorded the continent’s strange tales, they were a unique class of items in this world that defied common sense.
The origins of all these items pointed to a single deity who was not recognized by the orthodox Divine Halls and was even considered a heretic: the "Fire Thief."
There were no orthodox scriptures in history that recorded this deity’s miracles.
But in the underworld, a secret organization called the "Fool’s Sect" fanatically worshipped this deity.
Just as the adventurers’ goddess, Aretia, bestowed [Talent] upon the Intelligent Species...
...the believers were convinced that the "Fire-Stealing Marvels" were the Fire Thief’s gift to the continent.
The reason they could be called the work of a deity was because these marvels possessed Power far exceeding that of conventional Magic Items.
If Magic Items were products created by human Mages through analyzing the world’s rules...
...then Fire-Stealing Marvels completely defied logic.
Their very existence was a mockery of the rules.
Take, for example, the [Opposition Silver Coin] that appeared in the travelogues.
No matter how you tossed it upwards, how much force you used, or even if it was disturbed by a gale, it would always land and come to rest with its tails side up.
Then there was the pair of brass-rimmed glasses called the [False Saint].
Its effect was even more absurd.
Any area that the wearer’s subjective consciousness deemed "indecent," "disgusting," or "inappropriate for children" would be forcibly obscured in their vision by a long, solid black censor bar.
That censor bar had no physical weight, yet it couldn’t be penetrated by any light or line of sight.
These were Fire-Stealing Marvels.
Chaotic, absurd, yet so powerful it was dumbfounding.
In this world, from the time the first Fire-Stealing Marvel appeared to the present day, nearly a thousand have been recorded.
But among this vast number, approximately seventy-five percent belonged to the "Prank Level."
Apart from being used for pulling pranks or creating some harmless chaos, they were almost useless.
The next fifteen percent were slightly better, known as the "Curiosity Level."
Although these items had strict conditions for use, they could produce unexpected effects in specific situations.
The ones that truly held value for collection and use were the mere seven percent belonging to the "Practical Level."