A Black Market LitRPG

Chapter 1: Birth of a New Crime Lord

Alvin was never one for fighting. Hell, he hated the thought of getting his nose broken or even having his fingernail cracked. Even wooden splinters from the wheelbarrows or sparks from the arctech wagons frightened him, despite being nearly twenty-five years old.

So why was he in the midst of a brutal gang fight in the smog-filled alleys lined with pulsating pipes that churned green?

Before he could answer that question himself, a straight punch cracked his nose from tip to base, causing blood to spurt and bone to fragment as he staggered backwards, tumbling over broken wooden boxes filled with grimy, gooey trash. He didn't even know why the two gangs were fighting, only that he was ordered to come here to help.

Alvin could barely register his surroundings after the first hit, stumbling about coated in filth and pus from the trash heap. He tried to support himself against the wall that was layered with never-ending pipes, wooden barricaded windows and metal doors. His head spun, unable to determine where he was walking to.

Unknowingly, he began to cross over towards the rival gang, oblivious to the shouts of his friends as he tried to swipe the goo off his face.

"Who the fuck is this blind idiot?" One of the rival gang members laughed at the stumbling Alvin. He ran his hand over an engraved metal pipe, causing the runes to glow bright yellow before he smashed it right down onto Alvin's head with a loud thud.

The runes seemed to imbue additional properties into the metal pipe, the additional force and strength cracking his skull through the dirty auburn hair that became stained with blood and bits of meat. His body plopped onto the ground without a word, dead on the spot. "Fucking hell, Riker killed him!"

Alvin's allied gang members grimaced but did not care too much about Alvin dying, all of them too preoccupied with keeping themselves alive as they struggled against their opponents. He was just cannon fodder, after all. A weak boy sold off by his parents to the gang as repayment for their loan.

"One down, nine to go, boys!" Riker announced loudly, boosting the morale of the rival gang.

Alvin's corpse was kicked to the side, slumping against the wall beside a dead, decaying rat and abandoned gears and parts. Shouting, yelling, and sounds of metal echoed through the alley as bright runes and blood decorated the walls with brilliant flashes and streaks.

"Shit, they got way more enchanted gear than we do, retreat! Leave Alvin's body behind!" Alvin's gang beat a hasty retreat, leaving only the rival gang members in the alley, all of them cheering and heckling the fleeing enemy.

"You two, check that idiot's pockets for anything good. Rest of you, head back with me. The boss will be pleased to hear this. The Seven Snakes are such pushovers, pah." Riker ordered.

Two rival gang members remained behind, alone in the alleyway, putting on grim faces as they began to scavenge through Alvin's clothes. They, too, were practically cannon fodder, albeit not as weak as Alvin had been. Such was life in the underbelly of Raktor.

One of the gang members looked out for anyone else who might come across the bloodied scene. He spotted two patrolling local enforcers about to cross the entrance to the alleyway, but instead of backing off or trying to flee, he smirked at the two of them, locking eyes with them.

"Having a good day, sir? Hopefully, nothing to see here?" The gang member had a wide grin on his face as his hand rested on a metal pipe on his belt.

The law enforcers glanced at the gang member, recognising his outfit and equipment before slightly bowing with a bit of apprehension and fear. "Of course, nothing to see at all. You have a good day too."