Chapter 102

Chapter 102: Chapter 102 The moment Clayton noticed a group of people approaching, he grew alert. He walked slowly but carefully, his skeletons moving in formation beside him. Meanwhile, across the street, a scruffy group of men chatted animatedly. "Hahaha! I’m glad you all came with me! We’re gonna strike it big in this dungeon raid!" one of them shouted. "Yeah! We believe in you, Bravus!" another replied enthusiastically. The group cheered, further inflating Bravus’s already oversized ego. As usual, he’d been wasting his days partying and chasing fleeting pleasures. But by chance, he had overheard talk of a newly discovered dungeon—one that had reportedly made people rich overnight. That caught his interest. Bravus wanted in. There was just one problem: all his former subordinates had died due to his recklessness. Now, he had no one to raid with. Fortunately, he remembered a certain gambling boss who commanded a sizeable crew. So, Bravus went to him and begged for help. The boss, thoroughly fed up with Bravus, reluctantly gave him one final chance. If he blew it, the boss would cut him off for good—and seize his perfumes. Eventually, the boss agreed to send some men with Bravus. Not out of pity, but to assess the dungeon’s actual value. He sent his most trusted subordinates. Though the men appeared to follow Bravus, they had zero respect for him. They pretended to listen while secretly mocking him. Everyone in the city knew Bravus’s reputation: pathetic and disgraceful. As the group continued to joke and daydream about their imagined profits, they suddenly spotted a strange figure walking nearby, accompanied by skeletons. Their chatter ceased instantly. With the city growing more unstable by the day, they immediately went on guard—ready to attack if necessary. Bravus also fell silent, squinting at the figure ahead. After a tense moment, the two groups came face to face. Bravus’s expression shifted as recognition dawned. His mood instantly lifted when he realized it was Clayton. Clayton, however, was surprised to see Bravus accompanied by a full crew. Bravus, noticing that Clayton was alone, began scheming. Now’s the perfect chance, he thought. If I can convince these guys to take him out, no one will suspect me. The chaos in this city makes the perfect cover... "Heeey, isn’t this our dear Young Master Clayton? Off to be someone’s servant again?" Bravus sneered. Clayton furrowed his brows and glared, saying nothing. Seeing the reaction, Bravus smirked, pleased with himself. He was about to hurl another insult when one of the men beside him asked, "Hey, Bravus—who’s this guy?" Annoyed by the interruption, Bravus still responded with a loud, mocking laugh. "Oh, this guy? He’s our beloved Young Master! An expert in dirt, worms, bugs, and dung! Don’t believe me? Just get a whiff—he reeks of it!" The other men exchanged awkward glances. If anything, they looked down on Bravus more than the man he was trying to mock. Still, they kept their expressions neutral, offering a few dry chuckles to keep things from escalating. Bravus took their silence as encouragement and puffed up with pride. But once again, someone cut him off. "Yo, Bravus—do you actually have business with this guy?" Now visibly irritated, Bravus snapped, "No! So what?!" The man replied coolly, "Then we should keep moving. The boss wants this dungeon raid wrapped up fast. Don’t waste our time." That struck a nerve. "Waste time? I’m asking you to kill this bastard for me! That’s not complicated!" Clayton immediately tensed, ready to counterattack at the first sign of aggression. The group, however, scoffed. They knew exactly what Bravus was trying to do—and none of them had any intention of getting involved. They weren’t his lackeys. Instead, they offered a few dismissive chuckles and began moving past Clayton. Bravus fumed. Without leverage or support, he had no choice but to follow. As they passed, Clayton stayed on high alert, prepared for any surprise strike. Bravus burned with resentment, bitter at missing his chance. Just before leaving, he hissed a threat. "Don’t get too comfortable. Your luck won’t last forever." Clayton didn’t respond. He simply stared, cold and calculating, memorizing every detail of Bravus’s face. "I hope you don’t cry when that day finally comes," Clayton muttered under his breath. He continued on his way, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. Even though he’d walked away unscathed, he couldn’t shake the feeling of having been spared by someone utterly beneath him. He clenched his jaw. One day, he would kill Bravus—of that, he was certain. ... When Clayton arrived at the central district of the outer ring, he immediately began searching for a workshop to process his materials into light armor. It didn’t take long to find a reputable smithy—one affiliated with one of Sunlight City’s three major powers. He stepped inside and was greeted by a young female receptionist. "Good afternoon! How can I assist you today?" "I’d like to commission custom light armor using my own materials. Is that possible?" Clayton asked. "Of course, sir. May I take a look at the materials?" Clayton nodded and presented the arowana scales and the iron ore he’d received from Arthur. The receptionist examined them carefully and nodded approvingly. "These are usable, sir. However, you’re still missing a few supplementary materials. You can either purchase them here or provide your own." Clayton agreed to buy what was needed. After a brief discussion, they finalized the order. He was then escorted to another room, where a few burly, bald-headed craftsmen took his measurements. No wonder this place is called Hammerhead Forge, Clayton thought. These guys definitely look the part. Once the measurements were complete, Clayton paid the deposit. "All right, sir. Your armor should be ready in about a week," the receptionist informed him with a smile. Clayton thanked her and left the workshop. He wandered the outer district for a bit, hoping to relax, but the growing crowds only made him more uneasy. Groups of idle men loitered on every street corner, giving the place a tense, grimy feel. Losing all interest in sightseeing, Clayton decided to head home. Once there, he absorbed some ambient mana before returning to the farm. After cleaning up and preparing dinner, he ate a hearty meal. His training had been intense lately, and his appetite had grown with it. But the results were clear—his spellcasting felt smoother, more instinctive, and his body had noticeably strengthened. Just as he finished eating, the house’s security array suddenly blared. Clayton rushed outside—and found a stranger standing at his front gate. Immediately, he went on high alert, ready for anything.