A Black Market LitRPG

The shopping arcade ran by the Seven Snakes boomed like never before. Having overcome the initial troubles and issues with arcite ore as well as supplies, the security of the goblin trade route made it even more stable.

Haui smiled as he watched hundreds of local residents browse his expanded alchemist store, with the potions flying off the shelves at record rates. The store was focused on selling low-cost potions that could treat everyday ailments, along with diluted health and stamina potions.

This, combined with his previous store, allowed him to tackle both the lower-class market and the upper-class market, effectively solidifying his position as one of the top earners among alchemists in the South Sector. Only three other alchemists had such a reach, but none had ever achieved such widespread public acceptance as him. Next year, I’m winning that Alchem Prize for sure!

Haui, of course, was at the two stores every day, rotating his shifts as he interacted with the customers, building his public reputation as a gentle, humble alchemist. As he talked to the customers in the store, he suddenly noticed Kyle walking past the store, heading towards the office.

However, Haui also noticed another Kyle, followed by one more and yet another one, all dressed in the same way. He rubbed his eyes and checked his own pulse, wondering if he was under some sort of illusion array or Mind-Bending potion. Even the customers nearby were all wondering if it was part of a show.

The first Kyle noticed Haui’s confusion, walking up to him with a smile. “Good morning, Haui. How’s the store?”

The other Kyles behind him also echoed in synchronisation, each one of them having the same demeanour, except for the last one, who sounded a little too high-pitched.

Haui could hardly tell which one was the real Kyle. “What the hell is this? Who’s the real one?”

“None of them.” Kyle’s real voice wafted from behind, causing Haui to nearly jump in fright.

“By Yual, what is happening?” Haui’s eyes darted between the Kyle who had just ambushed him versus the group of new Kyles, trying to spot the difference. As he looked closely, he could see the slight difference in the thickness of hair, the height as well as the posture, but it still gave him an eerie feeling.

“I’m training them. Why?” Kyle replied, with the other Kyles also echoing in response.

“Kyle, I always found you a bit weird, but this fetish has gone too far. You can’t force another person to be like you just because you only adore yourself.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I can prescribe a potion to fix narcissism. Perhaps a bit of ego-death would help.”

Kyle ignored Haui, walking off back towards the office with the rest of the Kyles. In the office, Keith and Damian were simply marvelling at the other doppelgangers who were currently being trained by Guang Hwa, hand-picked by Keith himself off the streets.

“You idiot, Kyle doesn’t pose like that. Be more menacing! More intimidating! And when you give a smirk, your eyes need to smile in a sinister way as well! And you should not smile very often either. And keep your body straight! Kyle doesn’t stick out his butt like that!” Guang Hwa used a wooden stick to tap the doppelganger’s body, pointing out the bad points of the posture.

“And when Kyle talks, he talks in a deep accent. Go bass! Go low! Feel the Kyle in your veins!” Guang Hwa passionately exclaimed like he was an instructor for actors. “When you walk, you got to walk like you’re the cock of the town. No one is above you; everyone is beneath you! Drill that into your mindset! Okay, now you! Number 3. Try Line 15.”

Number 3 stepped forward, clearing his throat as he approached Damian, who was already on the verge of tears. He arched his jaw forward while glaring at Damian with a fearsome expression. “Damian, I would like to ask you a simple question.”

Damian immediately burst out laughing, unable to hold back any longer. Number 3 frowned, wondering what he did wrong.

“HAHAHAHA…sorry…hah… it’s not your fault.” Damian wiped the tears of joy from his eyes. “It’s just that it’s such a good impression! It’s exactly like him when he first became leader!”

“Glad you found it funny.”

“Indeed… wait, wow! That was a perfect impression of Kyle; it sounds exactly like-“ Damian turned around to see who it was, only to come face to face with the real Kyle. He immediately straightened his back, standing at attention. Now it was Keith’s turn to laugh.

The real Kyle walked up to his table with the six doppelgangers and Guang Hwa lining up in front of him. It’s been a month since Keith recruited them, and Guang Hwa has been training them non-stop in how to act exactly like Kyle.

“Damian, have you tested them combat-wise?”

“Erm, well… they are competent. But none of them has the same strength as you.”

“It’s fine, as long as they exude the same confidence. I will be going to Versia today, so the doppelgangers will be in charge immediately.” Kyle began giving out orders.

“Guang Hwa, you will take on the role of all major meetings. Read up on every single competitor, player and noble we have in our range. I have received word from the Baron that Count Leon is aware of our goblin operation, which means there will be trouble coming soon. I will endeavour to come back to Raktor soon.”

“Damian, work with Sasha and Niko to ensure the security of the entire supply chain. I don’t want any more hijackings or spies getting into our factory and finding out where we’re getting the iron ore from. All workers must have their backgrounds vetted. That’s all.”

Keith raised his hand, interrupting Kyle. “Wait, did you not say you were bringing Sasha along to Versia?”

“No need, I have an even better guide.”

The enforcer stared daggers at the pair of hooded men in front of him, part of a long queue of travellers waiting in line in a crowded checkpoint building situated next to the major river that ran through the Central Sector.

Dozens of ferries went both ways in the river, serving as a convenient transportation route for both goods and people. Many immigrants to Raktor usually came in by boat, unless they hailed from the Hwa Dynasty.

The enforcer read through the document in front of him, confirming the details of the two travellers. “You, first one. Name?”

“Kris Greyborn.” The first traveller replied without hesitation.

“Occupation?”

“Herbalist.”

“What is your purpose in travelling to Versia?”

“I would like to find new ingredients for use in my herbal remedies.”

“Got a license from the Alchemist Guild?”

“I don’t make potions, so no.”

“What about him?”

“He’s my escort. Name’s in the document.”

“Makoa… Snake?” The enforcer squinted, finding the name slightly familiar. The second traveller shifted slightly uncomfortably.

Kris Greyborn suddenly leaned forward, a small pouch of a few rakels appearing in his palm.“Mr. Enforcer. I am on a tight schedule, and my boat is about to leave.”

The enforcer snatched the pouch and opened it quickly, his eyes bulging slightly. “Of course, Mr Greyborn and Mr Snake. You two have a good journey now.”

“Thank you.” Kris grabbed the document back, leading Makoa off towards the boat.

All along the river, there were multiple piers with ferries docked, the river’s water choppy and murky from the constant motion of ships to and fro. Young kids hauled crates of cargo produced in Raktor onto the ships, while families had teary goodbyes to entrepreneurs and merchants looking to make their fortune in Versia or beyond.

The ferry they had bought a ticket for was nothing special – a generic arctech boat that did daily ferries to the town of Ocra, the closest Versia town on the river, before transferring to the capital of Versia. Kyle needed to meet up with the minister first before he could have the license or even knowledge of where to set up the factory.

There was no doubt that it was going to be an uphill battle: he was confident that there were other players in the mix who had a vested interest in making sure his factory was not established.

Kyle and Makoa took their seats in a cramped passenger section, obviously not meant for those of the upper class. The entire enlarged cabin was filled with other travellers, some clearly being smuggled onboard the ferries or being sold as part of a human trafficking ring.

Others wore slightly thicker clothes, no doubt carrying illegal substances to smuggle out of Raktor. For all he knew, these smugglers could be affiliated with a major gang or, even worse, the Ardent Cretins. He remained visibly ignorant.

“So this is the reason why you kept me alive?” Makoa spoke softly to Kyle.

“Always good to have a reliable guide.”

“I could easily run away once we’re in Versia. Or betray you.”

“You can try. The slave engraving on your chest might have an issue with that.”

Makoa scowled. The same slave collar that Kyle used to bind Guang Hwa was also placed on Makoa in an engraving form. Slave engravings were formed in master-slave pairs, allowing the master engraving to cause writhing pain onto the bearer of the slave engraving.

Makoa had been imprisoned by Kyle ever since the collapse of the Ilysian Punks, tortured for information. Makoa himself was not aware of where the military of Versia got the Galactic Era technology from, but he knew whom to look for, which was why Kyle was bringing him along.

“You’re planning to profit from this war.” Makoa continued, aware of why Kyle was going to Versia even though he had not heard about the deal with the minister.

“Indeed I am. A businessman is always on the lookout for new opportunities. Did the Ilysian Punks not do the same thing?”

Makoa couldn’t retort, knowing what Kyle said was true. However, while Makoa seemed fairly compliant on the surface, deep down, he was thinking about how to get rid of Kyle permanently.

I have a few friends in Ocra, ex-military – as long as I make contact with them, I can ambush Kyle. Though they would not be happy to see me. They might even try to kill me. Makoa hardly cared if he died due to the slave engraving activating or retribution from his gang – all he wanted to do was to make sure Kyle suffered.

The boatman untied the ferry from the pier, with the arctech motor roaring to life as it spun the blades, propelling the ship forward at a steady pace. Kyle glanced out of the porthole, watching the riverside pass by gradually, filled with the hustle and bustle of industrialisation.

The smokestacks of various factories soared into the sky, chugging out black fog while the various ships moved goods along the river, even within the city. A barge filled to the brim with sand sailed past them, headed for a glass factory, while an empty food barge overtook them from the other side, heading back to the grain bins on the outskirts of Raktor to pick up more grain to fuel Raktor’s food demand.

A few hours passed, with Kyle sitting in silence and slowly meditating. The ferry passed a few more rows of factories as they neared the town of Ocra, spewing their waste material and chemicals into the rivers. The water began to turn a sickly shade of grey and green as they moved further downstream.

Soon, the ferry slowed down to a crawl before the boatman moored the ferry to the pier of Ocra. It was a quaint little town bolstered by its strategic position along the river, allowing it to serve as a trade hub between the capital of Versia and Raktor.

Kyle and Makoa stepped off the ferry with dozens of other travellers, merging with the upper-class passengers and entering the town. Already Kyle could see the effects of the pollution affecting the residents, whose water supply was being poisoned. Sickly children and women gathered along the edge of the streets, with many of them huffing Euria Seed pipes as they lay on rotting crates propped up by salvaged metal.

Thanks to Kyle making it cheaper for the entire market, the addictive pastime became even more accessible to everyone, becoming a trademark of the poorer class over time.

“We will find an inn to stay in before leaving for the capital. Any recommendations?” Kyle asked Makoa, slightly shocking him. Is he naïve, or is he baiting me? He must know I still hold a grudge against him.

“I know a few places. Follow me.” Makoa led him to the closest inn he was familiar with. The inn was fairly run down, with the wooden boards clearly rotting and mould creeping on the walls. However, Kyle did not seem fussed, simply going along with Makoa.

The inn owner was surprised to see Makoa. “Makoa, been a long time."

"It has."

"Ran into problems then?"

"No problems. I only got one Versian coin. Might need a few more if you have some tonight."

"I can do in rakels too. Maybe pay a visit to the bank for it."

"Sure, you can set up an appointment for me tomorrow."

"Will do. I’ll get you the best room for the night. The third and second rooms on the left, third floor. Don’t have rooms with two separate beds, so that’s the best I can do.”

“Thanks, boss.” Makoa handed over a few rakels to the inn owners, leading Kyle up the stairs.

“I didn’t know Versia uses rakels too,” Kyle remarked as they climbed the dimly-lit stairs, which creaked with every footstep.

“Ocra trades with Raktor far too often; it’s normal to have two currencies,” Makoa replied calmly, but internally he was conflicted. Really? After that entire conversation, the only thing he picked up was the different currencies?!

They headed to their separate rooms, with Kyle staying in the second room. The bed had a terrible stench, along with a broken mirror as well as a rotting table. Kyle’s eyebrow twitched slightly, his sensibilities as a former Galactic Era Crime Lord offended. But he soon calmed himself down, instead checking his arctech equipment and his handgun magazines.

Hopefully, those coming for me will be of some use.