Inner ring of Linden City.

The underground money house was located beneath a casino.

Loan sharking and gambling went hand in hand - with cheating as the foundation, it created zero-cost debt that could be rolled into higher interest loans, offering quick returns with short cycles.

The only drawback was its instability; one needed either powerful backing or substantial personal capability to consider this line of work.

An honest man trying this profession might find himself a corpse in the morning rain.

The iron bars at the money house entrance were grotesquely bent outward as if someone had desperately tried to escape.

Central hall, underground level.

The room was littered with dismembered corpses, blood pooling everywhere. Flies had already begun circling, the stench unbearable.

"Men know sorrow and joy, parting and reunion, while beasts decorate our lives."

Morrison sat on the silk cushion of a high-quality red pine chair, legs crossed, having a surviving hostage wipe blood from his boots.

Standing about 180cm, his coiled black hair looked perpetually damp. Half his face bore severe burn scars - to make the twisted flesh more aesthetically pleasing, he'd carved over a dozen straight, diagonal scars into it, achieving a somewhat balanced appearance.

His clothing was simple - a cracked and faded crocodile leather jacket, black linen pants, and sturdy leather boots. Yet he carried an entire armory: a repeating crossbow strapped to his left arm, about twenty throwing knives hanging from custom shoulder belts, and his signature twin whips at the waist - one leather, one made of blade-studded metal segments resembling a python's underside.

In his hands, he toyed with a versatile large dagger useful in any situation.

The surviving enforcer's back was soaked with cold sweat as he knelt trembling, using a silk cloth to clean Morrison's boots.

Two quarter-hours earlier:

A dark elf who'd worked at the money house for half a month claimed to have found some easy marks for extortion, convincing them to open the iron gates.

Instead, four men burst in - the tallest lizardman nearly reached the ceiling. After locking the gate behind them, they began killing indiscriminately.

The dark elf proved no pushover either, cleanly decapitating an enforcer with one stroke.

The money house had hired some formidable ex-mercenaries, but they stood no chance against these killers.

Especially against the man with half a ruined face.

A throwing knife still embedded in the wall bore a scrap of scalp - the money house's head enforcer had taken a blade straight through the forehead from the scarred man, the force exploding out the back of his skull and sending a scalp fragment flying into the wall.

Seeing his boots sufficiently cleaned, Morrison rose and approached the desk. The fruit bowl contained unfamiliar varieties - these wealthy scoundrels likely had seasonal delicacies delivered by express courier.

He picked a purple berry and chewed.

"These'll kill you," Morrison remarked. The juicy sweetness, perfect tartness, and resilient texture under his teeth spoke of premium quality - these degenerates knew how to live.

The surviving hostages dared not speak, trembling in fear of provoking their captors.

Morrison approached the tiger-man Sven, who was fiddling with the vault's lock using two strange picks.

"Can you do it or not? Taking so long," Morrison challenged. They'd accidentally killed the manager earlier, losing access to the key, but the tiger-man had volunteered.

Among his race, Sven was lean and relatively short, moving silently. His skinning work earlier had shown surprising dexterity.

"Give me time. Don't interrupt," Sven muttered, his sparse brown fur and green feline eyes focused intently on finding the lock's tumblers.

At that moment:

Shadi led Li Site to the scene.

"Not done yet? We can't stay long. The lookout says the constables will only give us another quarter-hour to clear out before they process the bodies."

Li Site kicked aside two corpses, joining Black Sails' first mate Fen who was reviewing account books. If correct, the vault should hold 317 gold dragons - equivalent to robbing two merchant ships.

"Almost. Sven's working the lock," Fen adjusted his chained monocle. His long straight black hair flowed freely over his dark purple silk robe, giving him a scholarly air. With sword-sharp eyebrows, thin lips, and handsome features, his only flaw was the unnerving cruelty in his eyes.

Li Site scanned the basement - Kill-brother and the tiger-man were present, but someone was missing.

"Where's the big lizard?" he asked.

The most massive crewmember of Black Sails was conspicuously absent - too large to miss, even on ship where he had to sleep in cargo holds for lack of space.

"Went to the smithy. Too cramped here - he ruined his axe banging it around. Said he feels naked without proper weapons," Fen replied, burning the account book over a candle until it turned to ash.

"Whatever. Forget that idiot," Li Site said, joining the others watching Sven work.

The classic scenario - one man working while several supervise.

A crisp click sounded.

"Got it," Sven withdrew his picks, effortlessly swinging the vault door open.

"How much did you get?" Fen asked Li Site for the full accounting.

"Seventy-nine gold dragons, plus some unsorted silver - roughly eighty-three, eighty-four total," Li Site answered.

"Then we're near four hundred," Fen's lips twitched in what passed for a smile - more a facial spasm. The job had been suspiciously easy; cutting through these city weaklings like vegetables made for excellent profit margins.

"Four hundred?" Li Site's face lit up.

"You're captain - after you," Fen gestured grandly.

Li Site waved it off, glancing at Shadi with mock reverence: "No, you first. And you, my friend, are the real hero."

Shadi clicked his tongue - Li Site's occasional outbursts of nonsense had infected the whole crew to varying degrees.

Shrugging, Shadi entered first.

As Li Site moved to follow:

"Big problem!" Shadi suddenly shouted from inside, voice panicked.

Even Li Site felt his heart skip - was the vault empty? That would ruin everything. No payoff for the constables meant trouble. No funds meant no new crew, leaving their ten-man team unable to sail their brigantine, trapped in Linden City.

He rushed inside three steps at a time.

"Fuck! Big problem!" Li Site echoed.

Their dramatic back-and-forth made Fen frown sharply. An empty vault meant wasted effort. This wasn't just pirates killing gangsters - it was lords scheming against lords. To cover recent losses, they'd have to kill the rival lord for bounty money, hanging his head from Sunny Tower.

If their patron lord paid, good. If not, he'd join the display.