Hacking the Game Didn't Go as Intended

CHAPTER 13: A Widower's Retribution

From the concealing shade of a nearby alley, the troop cautiously observed the street stalls lining both sides of the road.

Stall owners energetically advertised their wares with exaggerated sales pitches, while customers bargained for deals. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

"Hey, Brek," one of the kids started, sounding uncertain. "You sure we're gonna be all right without any scouts?"

The concern was evident on the faces of the other kids as well. Ribbit couldn't hold in his nervous farts.

"We'll be fine," the Wolfkin reassured with a confident grin, elbowing Ribbit in the gut. "We've been outsmarting these old geezers for years now; today's gonna be a breeze, just like always."

Oh. Right on cue, he thought with satisfaction as he noted a small girl in the distance clutching a stuffed bear. She was making her way toward the stalls, garbed in her finest—a frilly dress courtesy of the generously endowed woman.

As Brek watched her, a memory bubbled up in his mind.

"Don't you want to help Haxks?" he asked April with a sly smile. "By doing this, we can feed many people while he's away. It's like we're doing him a favor."

"Will it really make Big Brother happy?"

"I know it will."

April puffed up her cheeks in contemplation, then she nodded.

April exuded the grace of a noble's daughter, her presence akin to that of a lost child with a promising reward awaiting her rescuer.

Yet, before any vendor could succumb to the tempting bait, the unfolding scene took an unexpected turn as the girl was abruptly snatched up by a mysterious figure draped in a hooded cloak.

"Nooo! Let me go! Let me go!" April cried out desperately.

"Stop squirming, you little brat!" the man barked, his voice dripping with hostility.

Brek bristled at the sight, his eyes wide with alarm.

"Wha? What's going on—who's that?"

"April's in trouble!"

"We gotta do something!"

What Brek and the others didn't know was that Daisuke's worst fears had materialized, despite their efforts to revitalize the slums without resorting to further theft or risky activities like pickpocketing.

The troop's actions to uplift the slums had inadvertently resulted in the death of a shopkeeper's wife. Now, consumed by grief and a thirst for vengeance, the widowed man devised a two-part plan. Firstly, he intended to poison all the goods at his stand, as a precaution in case the second part of his plan failed and the children managed to escape with the food.

In a world where resources were scarce, it was unfathomable that someone would go to such extreme lengths. However, for the bereaved husband who had lost his entire world with the death of his wife, there was nothing left to lose.

The second plan involved all the shopkeepers, united in their quest for vengeance. They pooled their coin to finance the travel expenses of slave merchants, who were tasked with the primary objective of capturing the leader of the troop. Without his capture, they wouldn't receive their payment.

With unwavering resolve, the merchants tracked Brek and the others from the moment they left the slums, aware that April was among them. Now, armed with the perfect bargaining chip, they had the means to flush out the rest of the group.

"Dammit, Brek, what do we do?"

"Th-That jerk has April... we have to go rescue her!"

"Head back to the slums," Brek demanded calmly. "Let the others know what's happening and have them leave the hideout."

"Wait, what? Are you nuts?"

"We can't let you do this alone!"

WHAM!

Brek silenced him with a swift knuckle sandwich and then started kicking each of them—just enough to drive them away. Like Daisuke, he would throw himself into the fray without jeopardizing the safety of the others.

"Stop talking back to me and get going already!" he barked.

Before they could voice their complaints any further, Brek took off from the cover of the alley and launched himself at the hooded bastard.

"Let her go, you ugly creep!"

Before his pointed claws could find their mark, a group of men emerged from their hiding spots and swiftly subdued him, as if he were a wild animal.

No matter how much he struggled and writhed, Brek couldn't break free. Instead, he winced in agony as one of the men landed a brutal punch to his stomach, causing him to double over in pain.

"Cough-Cough!"

Gasping for air, Brek struggled to lift his head, saliva dribbling from his mouth. He had half-expected some of the nearby adults to intervene, but the color drained from his face as he caught the contemptuous, almost demonic glares of the shopkeepers. It was then, in that chilling moment, that he fully grasped the gravity of the situation.

"Should we break one of his legs so he doesn't try to escape?" asked one of the hooded men without an ounce of hesitation, obviously relishing the thought.

Brek blanched.

"Just break both of them," another man suggested with a dark smirk. "But you'll be the one hauling him around when you do."

"Don't," the third man interjected authoritatively. "Damaged goods mean less profit. But I suppose I'll consider it if he doesn't want to cooperate."

They all chuckled maliciously.

"You heard the man," the one who landed the blow earlier barked. "Take us to the others or you and the girl will live to regret it."

Brek's eyes trembled as the four men loomed over him like a dark cloud.

***

The hideout was completely deserted, and the Slave Traders weren't enthused. A bruising slap sent Brek slamming into the ground, and he spat the blood from his mouth with a sly grin. He wished he could physically get them back for the abuse he'd endured, but this was the best he could do.

"You little shit!" spat one of the men. "What're you trying to pull, huh?!"

His rage subsided, however, as he observed the numerous icy stares that now turned their way in response to the act of child abuse. The residents of the slums were clearly displeased, their collective disapproval sending a shiver down the spines of the four men.

The only thing preventing them from facing a grim and terrible fate seemed to be the swords hanging from their hips. Yet, if they dared to push their luck any further, even those weapons wouldn't serve as a sufficient deterrent for long.

In the face of this adversity, the leader among the four men advanced with an ominous aura, resembling a malevolent demon seeking to strike a sinister bargain. His features twisted into a sinister grimace as he drew unnervingly close to Brek's face. "Take us to the leader of your group," he demanded in a whisper, "or we'll kill the little girl while you watch. I'm done playing games."

Brek's breath caught in his throat, cold sweat beading on his forehead. Instinctively, he sensed the man wasn't bluffing. It was the first time since this nightmarish ordeal began that he reluctantly acknowledged the impossibility of ending it without some form of compromise.