Level Up The Colony-Chapter 30: Aftermath

Timothy didn't receive any further notifications from the other Mana crystals, confirming his suspicion that the orb was unique in some way.

Left with six Mana crystals, he decided not to trade the orb just yet, something about it still nagged at him.

Gathering the remaining Mana crystals and his damaged phone into a smaller bag, he stepped outside.

The heat was oppressive, as if the sun itself bore a personal grudge against the earth.

If it were up to him, he'd stay indoors, but he had errands to run.

The phone repair shop was just at the end of his street, a place he was familiar with, having repaired multiple phones there before, most of them belonging to his mother.

Upon arrival, he exchanged casual greetings with the technicians and left his phone for repair, agreeing to pick it up by the end of the day.

With that settled, he hailed public transport to the association.

It had been a week since his last visit, and he wasn't particularly eager to return.

This time, he didn't bring his usual scarf or his companion termite, Gray.

The scarf needed washing, and Gray had grown too large to tag along unnoticed without it.

Arriving at the association, he stepped inside to find it as busy as ever.

The place functioned like a bank, with hunters of varying strengths queuing up for different transactions.

He made his way to a less crowded line and waited for his turn.

When he reached the counter, he was met by an unfamiliar but strikingly attractive attendant.

"Hello, I'd like to trade Mana crystals I obtained from a raid," Timothy said.

"Are you affiliated with a guild?" she asked without looking up.

"No."

"Non-guild transactions incur a 35% tax. Do you wish to proceed?"

'Thirty-five? I thought it was 30%.' Timothy frowned but nodded.

"Yes."

"May I see the crystals?"

He handed over the bag, and without opening it, she placed it onto a digital scale.

The numbers on the screen fluctuated for a few moments as she worked at her keyboard.

Timothy watched in curiosity, she hadn't even checked the ranks of the Mana crystals, so how did the system determine their value?

"May I see your Hunter's ID?" she asked.

"Uh... I lost it in the dungeon," he admitted.

"Any form of identification will do."

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Timothy patted his pockets but remembered he wasn't even carrying his phone.

"My name is Timothy Walter, E-rank Hunter. I was here last week for..."

"I know who you are," she interrupted.

"Your ID is only required for payment processing. Please don't lose it again, hard copy or soft copy."

Timothy blinked in confusion as she continued.

"The C-rank Mana crystals you're trading amount to thirty million naira. After tax and other deductions, you will receive sixteen million, five hundred thousand naira. Would you like the funds transferred to your linked account, or do you have another preference?"

"Linked account is fine," he replied.

Without hesitation, she removed the bag from the scale, set it aside out of sight, then reached under her desk and handed him his Hunter's ID with a smile.

"You'll receive your payment shortly. Anything else?"

Timothy was too stunned to respond.

How did she have his ID? Was it here all along? He walked away, still processing the interaction.

Without his phone, he had no way to confirm the transaction, but he decided not to dwell on it.

Catching another ride home, he collapsed onto his bed the moment he arrived and drifted into sleep.

When he woke up around 4 PM, he remembered his phone repair was supposed to be done by evening.

Rushing to the shop, he found them still open.

Surprisingly, the repairs were complete, turns out the phone only needed some cleaning and minor fixes.

The technicians even recommended some of the latest high-end phones, fully aware of his newfound wealth unaware to him.

Timothy laughed it off, taking it as playful mockery, and left with his repaired device.

Switching it on, he found several notifications waiting for him.

Messages from the association confirmed his successful transaction, followed by a bank alert.

However, what caught his attention was a series of missed calls from an unknown number.

He had a strong feeling he knew who it was, the assassin woman he had saved.

After all, he had written his number on the information sheet she received.

With so many missed calls, it almost seemed like he was purposely ignoring her.

Another message stood out, one from the same number that had booked him for the last raid, inquiring about his status.

This wasn't unexpected.

Timothy had considered the possibility of being contacted about the raid.

If they asked how it went, what would he say?

He had already concluded that it wasn't an official raid, if it were, representatives from the association would have been stationed outside to verify its status.

He knew this because it wasn't his first raid.

Without hesitation, he typed a response:

(Successful raid. Heavy casualties.)

It was the most professional reply he could think of, considering he had never been in direct contact with them before.

With that out of the way, he decided to call the assassin woman back.

The first attempt went unanswered.

The second rang for a while before finally connecting.

"Hello, who am I speaking to?" A man's voice greeted him.

Timothy wasn't surprised to hear a male voice.

Staying calm, he responded

"Excuse me, sir. I received multiple calls from this number earlier today."

"Oh? I'm sure I didn't make any calls to this number today. My apologies," the elderly man replied.

Timothy frowned but pressed on.

"Is there a chance someone borrowed your phone?"

The man hesitated for a moment before saying,

"Actually... yes, a lady borrowed my phone to make a call. I don't know who she called, but I suppose it was you?"

Timothy's grip on the phone tightened.

"Sir, where are you? Is she still nearby?"

"No, she left a long time ago," the man said, then added as if suddenly recalling something,

"Come to think of it, she left a message in case the person she called reached out. She said, 'The aftermath is here.' I believe that was it."

Timothy's stomach sank.

"Thank you, sir."

He ended the call, his mind racing.

What exactly had happened to the assassin?

Her message could mean several things, and none of them were good.

Before he could process it further, another text arrived from the Kingpin contact.

It contained just one word:

"Survivors?"

Timothy's jaw tightened as he angrily typed back:

"None."

Hitting send, he shoved his phone into his pocket and walked home in silence.

His mind was a chaotic storm of thoughts.

The werewolf man, Shedding Human, as the system had identified him had said his clan would come looking for him.

Would they really come for Timothy, the weakest in the group? He had barely survived; why would they care about him?

And then there was the assassin. She was not around.

But why? Why hadn't she reported to the association?

A sinking feeling crept into his gut.

What if she had already talked? If she had, it would put him in a dangerous position.

Timothy was confident in his abilities, but realistically, he was at best on par with a C-rank hunter.

Anything beyond that was out of his league.

For some reason, everything seemed to revolve around the assassin.

His curiosity burned.

He picked up his phone and called Dede, the man who had connected him to Kingpin.

Dede answered on the first ring, his voice filled with cheer. "Timothy! Congrats on passing your first raid in a while! Figured you called to celebrate, maybe buy me a drink to show your appreciation?"

Timothy cut straight to the point.

"What do you know about this Kingpin?"

The tone on the other end immediately shifted.

"What did you do, Timothy?" Dede's voice turned grim.

"Calm down and tell me. If you didn't kill anyone important, things can still be smoothed over. The organization is pretty forgiving to newbies."

"Just tell me what you know," Timothy pressed.

Dede sighed.

"Every person who's asked that question had ulterior motives, and none of them ended well. But since you insist...

Kingpin is one of the biggest black-market organizations out there. They deal in everything, whatever you can think of, they can get it. But for hunters like you, they mostly act as intermediaries, setting up unofficial raids outside the association's eyes for decent pay. Figured you were low on cash, so I got you a good position, one where you wouldn't even have to fight, yet you'd still get paid. I pulled a lot of strings for this, kid."

Timothy clenched his jaw.

He had known it was unofficial, but this was something worse.

Unofficial was one thing.

Illegal was another.

The Hunter Association had rules in place.

Raids were supposed to be regulated, ensuring basic laws applied to dungeons, things like trespassing, theft, and, most importantly, murder.

Any violations were considered crimes.

Dede's voice broke his thoughts.

"Tim? You there?"

Timothy exhaled sharply.

"What happens when a raid is successful but most of the hunters die?"