THE DIMENSIONAL MERCHANT
Chapter 83 - 82: The Calm Before the Gunfire – Part 1

Chapter 83: Chapter 82: The Calm Before the Gunfire – Part 1

The city’s streets were noisy, but Kael’s footsteps were silent.

He’d just walked out of the Raven Merchant Guild’s Ginip branch, fury coiled tight beneath his skin. The meeting had been polite—on the surface.

But underneath?

This is bullshit.

They knew too much. Way too much.

And Kael knew exactly what that meant.

He didn’t head for Kaelmart.

Instead, he turned into the narrow alleys and side streets that twisted through the city’s edge.

He was heading to the slums.

This part of Ginip had always been rough. Poor. The guards didn’t come here, and most people stayed away unless they had no choice.

It used to be ruled by Red Morn—brutal, feared, and untouchable in these parts. After his death, the power vacuum hadn’t stayed empty for long.

Now, people whispered a new name.

Vera.

She hadn’t filled Red Morn’s shoes entirely, but she’d gathered what was left of his crew and carved out a piece of control. Enough to matter. Enough to be dangerous.

Kael found them under a crumbling archway where three rusted buildings leaned into each other like drunks on a wall. Mold dripped from the beams. Rotten cloth hung like curtains from windows long abandoned. Fires burned in broken barrels. And around those fires stood faces he recognized.

Vera’s crew.

Some of them had new clothes, better boots. A few even wore iron pendants—nothing fancy, but enough to show they were eating better than most in the slums.

Vera herself lounged on a crate with a sharpened dagger in one hand, polishing it with a cloth like it was a beloved pet.

She looked up, surprised—and then smiled.

"Well well. Look who decided to visit. Boss, haven’t seen you in a while. Thought maybe you forgot about us."

Kael said nothing.

He walked straight up to the nearest thug—a young man with a scar across his chin—and punched him in the face. The man dropped like a sack of bricks, clutching his bleeding mouth.

The group shot to their feet. Weapons weren’t drawn yet, but hands hovered near hilts.

Vera stood quickly. "What the hell, Boss? What’s going on?"

His voice was low. Measured.

"Today, I had a talk with the Raven Merchant Guild. They know everything—about Red Morn, the fire, the Artificer. Details they shouldn’t have. Someone told them. So I’ll ask once: was it you?"

No one spoke.

He scanned their faces. Eyes twitching. Sweaty brows. One of them looked at the ground.

A thug with missing teeth spoke up. "C’mon, boss, we don’t even talk to people like them. We barely leave this part of town."

Another chimed in, nervous. "It had to be the Artificer, right? He left town after you ruined his shop. He could’ve gone crying to them. People do stupid things when their pride’s broken."

Kael’s eyes locked onto him.

Then he said it.

"So you’re trying to blame a dead man now? Your fault."

The words dropped like a hammer.

A few of them twitched. Shock passed over their faces.

"You think I didn’t finish the job?"

The thug who spoke first swallowed hard. Took a step back.

Kael raised his voice just slightly.

"So who told them? Or was it all of you?"

They stood frozen. Even Vera looked uncertain now.

Kael turned slightly, addressing the gang.

"Let me guess. They showed up. Offered gold. Promised protection. All you had to do was talk. And since your loyalty is worth less than a piss in a gutter, you agreed. Right?"

Then Vera’s voice cut through—sharp.

"You want answers? Fine. You left us to rot. You burned down that shop. Took everything. Gave us nothing. We sat around starving while you built your empire. You think we’d wait forever?!"

Kael didn’t blink.

"I told you to vanish. I gave you your lives."

"And we did vanish," she snapped. "But we didn’t vanish into thin fucking air. You’re just another bastard with blood on his hands. You took everything. You think loyalty grows in gutters? We had to survive! The Guild offered gold, food, protection. You gave us nothing! And now you come here, barking orders? Fuck you."

Another thug stepped up, bold now. "Don’t act like you’re better than us! You killed Red Morn and took his stash. Then wrecked the Artificer’s life and looted his vault. You think we don’t see you?"

Blades whispered free of scabbards, steel glinting in the noon sun.

Vera laughed—a bitter, barking sound.

"You think you scare us? We’re under the Raven Guild now, boy. That’s bigger than you. You touch us, and you’ll have them at your throat by sunset."

Vera folded her arms. "You’re not special, Kael. You’re just another crook who got lucky. And now you’re in our part of town, barking orders like you’re still in charge? Wake up. You’re not."

She stepped forward, dagger still in hand.

"You’re smart, Kael. But you ain’t suicidal."

Kael looked at her—almost bored.

"You think they care if a few street rats go missing?"

He let the silence hang.

"They bought your words. That’s all. You were useful. Now you’re not. They won’t protect you. In fact..." He stepped forward. "They’re probably counting on me to clean up the mess."

The gang shifted nervously. Doubt crept into their eyes.

Kael stared them down, eyes hard as flint.

"You sold me out for copper scraps," he said coldly. "Now you get to see the price."

The silence was thick. Heavy. Breaths shallow. Nobody moved.

Then Kael raised one hand—slow, deliberate.

He opened a thin rift beside him in the air, no bigger than a windowpane. A tear in space, shimmering and unreal.

The gang recoiled.

"What the fuck—?!" someone whispered.

"What kind of magic is that?!"

Kael didn’t speak.

He reached into the portal. His fingers gripped it. He pulled out a weapon none of them could even begin to understand.

Long. Sleek. Jet black.

Strange markings down the side. A curved magazine.

With practiced hands, he clicked a silencer onto the muzzle.

Click.

Twist.

Snap.

The place went dead quiet.

Vera’s face twisted, trying to hide the panic rising behind her eyes.

"W-what the hell is that thing?" she asked, voice cracking.

Kael looked at her like she was already dead.

"Dead people don’t need to know."

And then—

PFFT. PFFT. PFFT.

BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRT—KRAKKA-KRAKKA-KRAKKA—BRAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!