Chapter 476: Vampiric Blood Shot

They walked past the Mercenary Guild. Companies could hire mercenaries, and even military forces outsourced work to them. From what Luke had learned, mercenaries were divided into three main roles: Hunters, Gatherers, and Miners.

Miners and Gatherers specialized in resource acquisition and terrain assessment, each within their own field of expertise. Everything had value. Ore, trees, plants, timber, even rare crystals that formed naturally underground, all of it used for forging or alchemy. Hunters, on the other hand, handled security and combat. They made money off their strength while growing stronger in the process.

A company that wants to explore a rift, or a group that needs strong members, hires mercenaries.

He was the only one who entered the guild building. When it was his turn at the counter, he stated his request.

“Information?” the clerk asked.

“Whatever you can tell me about the place.”

“I can only share what’s known in theory. If you want something useful, I recommend talking to an experienced mercenary. Someone who can point you toward good hunting grounds or resource zones. Greta usually does that. She should be in the mess hall right now.”

Azazel wanted him to find something he did not even know the nature of. At the very least, before entering the dimensional rift, Luke intended to gather every piece of public, known information. After that, he would figure things out through exploration.

The mess hall was packed, long tables crammed with people. There was drinking, laughter, and the occasional heated argument.

Luke weaved between the tables.

“Are you Greta?”

“No,” the woman replied.

He moved on. Some of the people there matched the most grotesque, intimidating stereotypes he could imagine.

“Are you Greta?”

“No.”

He kept asking, table after table, but found no one.

Until he reached the last table in the hall. A thin woman was tearing into a chicken leg with impressive ferocity.

“Are you Greta?”

“That depends on who’s asking.”

“Looks like I found you,” Luke said, placing a tenth-silver coin on the table. It was worth a hundred crowns.

Her hand shot toward the coin, but Luke pulled it back. “So? Are you Greta or not?”

She smirked. “Yeah. I’m Greta. Consultant, thief, informant, whatever you need.”

Luke took a seat across from her. “Good. I need your help. I need to know everything possible about the rifts.”

She stopped chewing and narrowed her eyes. “A rookie? No. I don’t help rookies. If you die, I don’t want the trouble. Though if you die… I might keep your gear.”

“I’m not a rookie.”

“You look like one. Clean appearance, smooth skin, no scars. You look fresh. What are you, fifteen?”

“That doesn’t make me a rookie. It just means I’m good enough to fight without getting scarred,” Luke replied.

She bit into the chicken leg again. “You’ve got a sharp tongue. Still, I had to ask. It’s part of my consultation. There are types of rookies. Those who’ve never held a weapon, those who’ve never been with a woman, and those who’ve never killed.”

“Right… Greta. I’m not a rookie in that sense.”

“You sure? At least one of those things you haven’t done,” Artemis muttered.

Quiet.

“Meet me outside in an hour, rookie. I don’t like people watching how I work,” Greta said.

Yeah, you just want to finish eating.

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Luke followed her instructions and left the hall.

***

After a while, Greta showed up.

She was wearing different gear this time. A crossbow strapped to her belt, a heavy machete at her waist, and light armor fitted for movement.

“You’re late.”

“Just making sure you were actually a rookie,” she replied calmly, “and not someone planning to kidnap me. What’s your name, rookie?”

“James.”

Charlie and Angie followed at a distance, keeping out of sight.

“James? Oh no. Not this again,” Artemis muttered.