Hacking the Game Didn't Go as Intended [Part One]

CHAPTER 165: Chaos Among the Remedies

Zurrel caught the movement too late. The addict yanked the blade free and lunged again, the knife slashing in a deadly arc. At that moment, Lefahne and Fay burst into the room, their expressions shifting from concern to terror as they took in the scene.

"Zurrel!" Lefahne screamed, her voice piercing the air.

The blade glinted under the dim light as it descended toward its target. But Zurrel's reaction was swift and unyielding. With a quick pivot, he sidestepped the attack, his hand snapping out to grab the addict's wrist. A sharp twist forced the man to drop the knife, which clattered noisily to the ground.

Not giving him a chance to recover, Zurrel stepped in close, delivering a well-placed elbow to the bastard's jaw. The addict staggered back, dazed, and Zurrel swept his legs out from under him in one fluid motion. The man crashed to the floor, landing amid the shattered remnants of potions and jars.

Zurrel followed up by twisting his arm behind his back and pressing a knee firmly against his spine to keep him pinned. "You picked the wrong shop," he said breathlessly, his voice tinged with mild irritation as he reached for a coil of rope kept nearby for such occasions.

As he looped it around the man's wrists, the addict struggled weakly, but his earlier burst of energy had left him drained and defeated.

"Stay still," Zurrel growled, his tone carrying an edge of finality.

Lefahne rushed to her husband's side, her face pale. She glanced at the assailant, then at the destruction around them, before speaking in a trembling voice. "Are you hurt?"

Zurrel shook his head, his focus still on securing the bindings. "Not a scratch. He didn't stand a chance."

"Wh-What happened exactly?"

Zurrel gestured toward the man beneath him. "He tried to get into the vault. Desperate and erratic, probably withdrawing from something."

Lefahne sighed and knelt beside the squirming addict, her tone gentle but firm. "You're not going to get better like this," she informed, pulling a vial of potion from her satchel. "This will help calm you down and ease the worst of your symptoms. Just drink it."

But the man clenched his jaw, refusing to cooperate, even as bled from the wounds sustained from the broken glass. Lefahne glanced up at Zurrel with a look of frustration. "He's not going to take it willingly. I'll need to use a syringe, but they're downstairs, and I also need to heal him right away."

Fay, her face pale and her hands clutching her dress, stood at the doorway, staring wide-eyed at the scene. Zurrel glanced at her and offered a reassuring smile. "Fay," he called softly. "Head to the basement and fetch one of the syringes from the second drawer of the storage cabinet. Be quick, but careful," he instructed.

Fay nodded, her expression serious as she darted off to retrieve the tool, leaving Zurrel and Lefahne to handle the increasingly agitated man.

***

CREAKKK~

The door to the basement slowly opened, the dim light from above spilling into its shadowy depths. At the top of the stairs, Fay stood motionless. The oppressive darkness below seemed to stir and churn as if it were alive. Absent-mindedly, she noted that it was her very first time venturing into the basement. Yet, despite the overwhelming sense of foreboding that lurked within, she had an important task at hand and time was of the essence.

Step by hesitant step, she descended, the wooden stairs groaning softly beneath her weight. The faint light from above tapered the deeper she delved, leaving her increasingly engulfed in the void. At the base of the staircase, a faint glow from a dull mana crystal bathed the room in a pale light, its soft illumination casting long shadows across the room.

Against the far wall stood a large storage cabinet, its polished handles reflecting the muted glow. The syringe Zurrel had requested lay just within reach, yet Fay's steps faltered, her instincts refusing to let her move forward.

The memory of the violent commotion upstairs clung to her like a second skin, sharpening her senses to every creak of the floorboards and every faint whisper of the wind through the cracks. Her wide eyes scanned the room, lingering on corners cloaked in darkness, her heart thudding against her ribs. It should've been a simple task—grab the syringe and return—but an inexplicable unease had rooted her to the spot. Something felt off, though she couldn't quite place what.

As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she noticed a solitary door tucked inconspicuously within the neatly arranged chaos of the room, quietly set into the western wall of the basement. The magic circle etched in its surface was essentially invisible to the untrained eye, but for Fay, it was as clear as day.

It hummed mysteriously, its presence commanding attention like a solar eclipse. It beckoned her closer, its purpose veiled in a quiet aura. Fay felt entranced—suddenly, the urgent command to retrieve the syringe was but a distant memory in her mind, a grain of sand lost in the wind. Now, all that mattered was satisfying her curiosity and unraveling whatsoever it was that lurked beyond the door.

CLICKK.