Agent047
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890 - KGHH!!!! BAM!!! KWACK!!!! BWOOGH!!!! CRACK!!!!
🕑 Added 2025-04-19 03:15:30 +0000 UTCKGHH!!!! BAM!!! KWACK!!!! BWOOGH!!!! CRACK!!!!
“Arghhhhh!!!!!!”
A pained scream rang out, cutting through the brutal symphony of fists landing, bones cracking, and flesh being pounded inside the practice room of the enforcement forces building.
The one on the receiving end was the interrogator, now unconscious, sprawled on the floor, his chest rising and falling in sharp, uneven breaths, a result of his internal injuries making it difficult for him to breathe.
“Haaaah...”
Dreznor stood above him, the only one still on his feet in the ring. He exhaled deeply, a satisfied grin tugging at the corners of his lips. His knuckles were smeared with blood, but none of it was his.
Medics rushed in, kneeling beside the fallen man as they started performing emergency first aid before quickly loading him onto a stretcher and carrying him out. He had walked into this fight with arrogant confidence, expecting to be the one dishing out punishment, only to leave broken and beaten, a harsh lesson written across his battered body.
“Now we can move on to trade,” Dreznor said casually, walking over to a bench where a towel and water bottle had been placed. He addressed the planet leader’s servant, who was already approaching him.
“Yes, sir,” the servant replied, handing over a rectangular device resembling a polished block of metal. “This contains a full list of slaves currently on the planet, as well as all available goods, government-made and privately produced items are separated into two categories. You may choose as you wish, and I’ll see to the procurement.”
Dreznor wiped the sweat from his face, took the device, and tapped the activation button. Three holograms were projected into the air, one listing the slaves, and the other two showing products categorized by source.
He eyed the hologram coldly, then turned to the servant. “Is your name on here?” he asked, pointing at the slave list.
“I’m not a slave, sir,” the servant answered, his tone carefully neutral, but the faint trace of disgust in his voice betrayed how offended he felt at even being associated with that status. As a member of the planet leader’s inner staff, he saw himself as among the elite and would not have come near Dreznor were it not for direct orders.
Dreznor gave no response to the servant’s subtle displeasure. Instead, he turned back to the floating holograms and began making selections from all three lists. With each tap, the remaining credit count displayed at the corner of the projection ticked steadily downward.
The number on the hologram represented the local currency, a system implemented across the Conclave to prevent wealthy individuals from destabilizing poorer economies. Instead of using the civilization’s main currency directly, visitors were required to exchange it for the local equivalent. The exchange rate floated based on demand, acting as an economic buffer: the more someone exchanged, the more expensive it became, effectively discouraging aggressive market domination and keeping local economies intact.
Less than ten minutes into browsing, Dreznor had already spent nearly all of it, over ninety percent of his earnings from the mana canisters, gone. With the amount nearing zero, he finally stopped.
“This is all the buying I’m going to do. When will they be ready?” he asked, handing the device back to the servant.
He reviewed the list carefully before replying, “They will be delivered to you in a week's time. Is there anything else you need help with?”
“No. You can leave,” he replied, grabbing his hydration liquid and taking a long drink. Draping a towel over his shoulder, he gathered his things and headed toward the exit. His next destination: the hotel.
Now we wait, he thought, his mind turning to the next phase of the plan. Everything he could do for now had been completed, all in line with the strategy laid out by the Little Protagonist, who had already analyzed the key data and calculated the optimal course of action.
{You are being followed,} came the calm voice of the Little Protagonist as Dreznor stepped into the public transportation pod bound for the hotel.
“I expected it,” he murmured, not bothering to look back. On his interface, the AI displayed a CCTV feed of the transport interior, the suspected follower already highlighted. Alongside the image, a detailed profile began to unfold, pulled straight from the database thanks to the Little Protagonist’s continued access.
………………..
While Dreznor was on his way back, the list of his purchases had already reached the planet’s leader. After a quick review, nothing stood out as suspicious. Most of the items were standard, except for the large plot of land in an isolated location and an unusually high volume of construction materials. It was clear Dreznor planned to build a residence from scratch rather than purchase one outright, a decision that reassured the leader. It suggested a long-term commitment and an intention to continue trade, which aligned well with their interests.
“Keep watching him, but don’t let him catch on,” the leader said, approving the slave list without issue. He raised an eyebrow at one peculiar detail: Dreznor had not only purchased individuals who were useful but had also bought their families along with them. A small chuckle escaped him.
“Sentimental fool,” he muttered.
“Yes, sir,” the servant replied, bowing before leaving to relay the orders.
Now alone in his office, the leader leaned back into his chair, his expression calm and contemplative.
“No matter how well you hide it, I’ll find out who your supplier is, and when I do, we’ll see how long that smirk lasts,” he said softly, a thin smile curling on his lips. “Until then, enjoy thinking you have power,” before he closed his eyes, letting silence settle in as he began to rest. Time, after all, was something he had plenty of.
And while the leader slept peacefully, unaware, ripples of discontent spread quietly across the upper circles of society.
Their trusted slaves and skilled workers, some of whom they had relied on for years, were being taken away without warning. The transactions had been forced through under the leader’s authority, leaving them no room to refuse or negotiate.
Others received curt notifications that their pending orders for materials or services had been delayed, reassigned to someone else under the leader’s directive. A few even found their land abruptly repossessed and granted to an unknown outsider. There were no explanations, no apologies, just cold, official commands from the top, together with payment for the things taken from them.
Though none dared voice their outrage openly, the bitter taste of humiliation lingered. The leader's power kept them quiet, for now. But among the silence, something began to fester.
In more than a few hearts, the seed of resentment had been planted.
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