Abyssborn: Sovereign of Sin and Ruin

{Chapter: 189: Licking the Dog}

After waking up and slipping into his usual set of clothes, Brook, a veteran merchant who had spent decades in business, stood beside his bed and gave a habitual stretch that creaked all the way through his aging bones.

The morning light filtered through the slats of his shop's shutters as he shuffled toward the front entrance, yawning into the back of his hand. As always, his first order of business was to open up shop.

Despite being well over a hundred years old, Brook still had plenty of time left in his life. Thanks to his status as a low-ranking professional, he had a longer lifespan than the average person. Even so, time was slowly catching up with him. Years of indulgence—good food, good wine, and very little physical labor—had gradually worn down his body. His strength had declined considerably compared to his youth, and a variety of annoying little ailments were starting to set in: joint stiffness, morning aches, and the occasional bout of dizziness when he stood up too fast.

As he lowered the shop's wooden gate and prepared for another day of business, he muttered under his breath, half grumbling, half rehearsing a lecture: "Damn those lazy little brats... Always late. I ought to dock their wages again."

Of course, he knew full well that threatening to dock their wages was as far as he could go. If he actually followed through, they'd leave him high and dry before the week was out. He needed them, and they knew it.

Still, it felt good to vent. After all, complaining wasn't a crime. Not yet, anyway.

Just as the gate had reached halfway, Brook suddenly felt resistance. It didn't move smoothly as it usually did. Something solid seemed to be blocking it from the outside.

He frowned. "Huh? Did someone leave cargo at my door again?"

Muttering under his breath, Brook bent down and poked his head out to investigate, ready to scold whoever had dared to use his storefront as a storage shelf.

But the moment he looked outside, his words caught in his throat.

What he saw were three glowing, crimson eyes—each with golden, vertical pupils—staring back at him with calm, unblinking intensity.

Time froze.

In that instant, an overwhelming surge of primal fear washed through him. His back stiffened, the hairs on his arms stood straight up, and his aging heart felt as though it had stopped beating altogether. A cold sweat instantly drenched his brow and slid down the back of his neck.

He nearly died from the shock right then and there.

Several seconds passed before his body managed to break free from that instinctive terror. His breathing returned—shallow and ragged—and his senses slowly realigned. Only then did he manage to get a clearer look at the figure crouched lazily outside his shop door.

A tall, dark figure with sharp, elegant features... Not entirely human in appearance. In fact, the closer Brook looked, the more convinced he became that this wasn't a man at all.

The vertical pupils... The aura... The way the mere act of existing made the air feel heavier...

'No... That's definitely not human,' Brook thought as his mind raced. 'Could it be... one of the Dragonkin? Or maybe... a high-tier monster in disguise?'

His legs trembled.

Whatever this creature was, it was dangerous. And clearly powerful enough that it didn't even need to threaten him—its mere presence was a declaration of superiority.

Brook immediately dropped all pretense of being grumpy and transformed into the picture of humble hospitality. His face twisted into a wide, practiced smile—one that nearly reached his ears—and he rubbed his hands together nervously like a servant awaiting orders.

He spoke in a tone as soft as honey:

"Ah—my lord, how may I be of service? Please, would you like to come inside and enjoy a hot cup of tea? It's on the house."

To his surprise, the intimidating figure—Dex—blinked at him in confusion, as though unsure what had just happened.

Dex had simply been leaning against the shopfront, chewing on a piece of dried jerky without a care in the world. He hadn't used any sort of mental suggestion or intimidation. In fact, he'd made a point of disabling any aura or psychic interference. He wasn't trying to scare anyone. He was just hungry.

So when the shopkeeper suddenly flipped from grumpy to groveling, Dex felt genuinely puzzled.

'Huh...? What's with this guy?' he wondered. 'Is the wind wolf's passive intimidation really that effective? Or is this the beginning of my protagonist aura? Am I finally the kind of guy people fight to curry favor with?'

Dex squinted at Brook, who was now bowing slightly and sweating nervously.

Brook, meanwhile, was mentally spiraling.

'Why isn't he saying anything? Did I offend him by not recognizing him earlier? Is he going to kill me for breathing wrong?!'

Just as the tension reached a breaking point, Dex let out a short sigh and decided not to dwell on it. There was no need to waste brainpower trying to understand someone else's paranoia.

He stood up and casually glanced inside the store, giving it a once-over.

"What kind of shop is this?" he asked, his voice even and casual.

Relieved beyond measure that the death sentence hadn't been issued, Brook pounced on the question like a starving man offered bread.

"Yes, yes! This humble establishment sells all kinds of travel supplies—everything an adventurer might need for a long journey. We have waterskins, compasses, tents, flint stones, rations, emergency cloaks, magical signal flags—ah! And if you need anything specific, we can custom order too! If there's anything you need, I'll personally make sure it's free of charge!"

He smiled broadly, trying to appear useful rather than desperate.

Now that his panic had subsided a little, his merchant instincts kicked back in. He quickly assessed the situation: mysterious stranger, terrifying aura, clearly from some elite class of being... possibly noble or divine in origin.

This was the kind of customer you only saw once in a lifetime. Making a good impression could mean everything.

Brook's inner monologue was giddy:

'This is it! A golden opportunity! What if I get a long-term customer? What if he rewards me with a magic item just for being polite? I'd be an idiot not to butter him up!'

Dex stared blankly at the man's sudden enthusiasm and decided not to ruin the moment. He had no plans of robbing anyone today, and the guy seemed harmless enough.

He dusted his clothes off and said simply, "You don't have to give anything for free. I've got money. What I need right now is a detailed map—specifically, a comprehensive one that covers all the surrounding countries."

Dex's eyes narrowed slightly. "I'll be doing some... traveling soon. And when you're behind enemy lines, knowing the terrain is key. If I end up needing to run, I'd prefer not to run in circles."

Brook didn't know what Dex meant by "behind enemy lines," but he didn't dare ask.

He just nodded rapidly and said, "Y-Yes! Absolutely. I have several high-quality maps in the back room. Please, come in, my lord! Take your time browsing! I'll even throw in a sturdy map case—free of charge!"

Dex stepped inside the shop with a slight smile.

Generally speaking, Dex was not the kind of person who would throw his weight around without reason. If others gave him face, he usually returned the favor. He didn't believe in petty bullying—at least not unless he had a reason. Of course, there were rare exceptions, the sort where he would beat people without warning or mercy, just for being unlucky enough to irritate him that day.

But this was not one of those days.

The moment Dex asked for a map, Brook's already overly attentive expression became even more exaggerated. His back straightened like a bowstring, and he gave an almost theatrical nod before speaking with reverence.

"Right away, my lord! Please, please come in and take a seat. Make yourself comfortable. I'll head to the warehouse and fetch it for you immediately!"

Unlike in the modern world, where maps are mass-produced and widely accessible, in this realm, maps were rare and valuable commodities. Each one was painstakingly hand-drawn, often by cartographers who risked their lives traveling through dangerous lands. A well-made map could be worth a commoner's entire monthly salary, sometimes even more.

Long-distance travel wasn't something ordinary folk did often. Roads were treacherous, and most people could only afford to ride horses or donkeys, assuming they could travel at all. For that reason, most villagers and commoners never laid eyes on a proper map in their entire lives. The best they could manage were crude sketches—rough outlines scribbled in charcoal or ink from someone's memory.

So when Dex casually requested a detailed map of the surrounding countries, it wasn't just a surprising request. It was a business opportunity of enormous proportions.

For Brook, this was equivalent to a major windfall—a single sale that could match or even surpass the profit of an entire month's worth of normal business. And more importantly, it was a golden opportunity to curry favor with someone who clearly wasn't ordinary.

In fact, he now believed that licking Dex's boots might have been the smartest business move of his entire career.

---

Dex was led to a seat with utmost respect and ushered in like royalty. He didn't rush. He didn't show a shred of anxiety. He simply sat down, posture elegant and perfectly still, allowing Brook to dash off into the back warehouse like a frantic squirrel searching for treasure.

Strangely, despite the value of the items in his store, Brook didn't seem the slightest bit worried about leaving Dex alone. Perhaps it was the aura Dex gave off—an air of confidence and unshakable power. Or maybe it was the fine clothes he wore, stitched with rare materials that spoke of status and wealth. Either way, Brook was completely at ease.

Soon after, a few of the shop's employees arrived to start their day. They entered casually, chatting amongst themselves—until they spotted Dex.

He was sitting there alone, unbothered, like he owned the place. The way he rested in the chair, the way his eyes lazily swept across the room... it was as if he were royalty visiting a province he ruled. The confidence he exuded wasn't loud or boastful—it was effortless, natural, and deeply unsettling.

The employees froze in the doorway, unsure if they'd entered the wrong shop by mistake. A few of them even stepped back instinctively, only to realize they hadn't taken a wrong turn after all.

Dex, of course, didn't even glance at them. He remained perfectly at ease, one leg crossed over the other, a faint smirk on his lips. To him, their presence was background noise—flies buzzing around a lion.

This contrast—between his relaxed demeanor and their awkward hesitation—was a perfect example of the difference between confidence born from power and the nervousness of the powerless.

Dex had good reason to be calm. His strength wasn't just a feeling—it was absolute. With the protection granted by [Immortal Body of Evil], he knew that even if his identity were exposed in enemy territory, and the entire city turned against him, they wouldn't be able to kill him. At best, they might manage to seal him away—but even that wasn't guaranteed.

With such security, why bother hiding? Why bother pretending?

Let the world know. Let them tremble.

---

A few minutes later, Brook returned from the warehouse, panting slightly and cradling a heavy bundle in his arms. Unlike Earth maps printed on paper, the maps in this world were crafted with durability in mind. Most were drawn onto specially treated leather—typically taken from magical beasts. The result was something that looked like a rolled-up bamboo slip, thick and solid.

With great care, Brook placed the bundle on the table before Dex and bowed respectfully.

"Please take a look, my lord. These are the most detailed and up-to-date maps we have of the surrounding kingdoms. I've brought out everything I could find."

Dex didn't even glance at the table. He simply snapped his fingers.

With a faint flash of magical light, the bundle disappeared into his personal storage space, replaced instantly by a small mound of glimmering gold coins.

Brook's breath caught in his throat.

He stared at the pile as if he had just seen the heavens open up and rain blessings on him personally. His legs trembled. His mouth opened and closed, trying to form words.

"T-this is far too much!" he stammered. "My lord, this is... this is more than ten times what those maps are worth!"

Dex stood up slowly, brushing nonexistent dust off his sleeve. His expression remained unchanged—cool, casual, and vaguely amused.

"Keep it," he said with a wave of his hand. "Consider it a tip."

In his heart, he thought: 'I looted it from a battlefield anyway. It's not like I earned it through hard work. Might as well spread it around.'

'I picked it up from a dead person, so I don't feel bad about it as it's a no-cost business.'

The room seemed to grow heavier with the weight of gold.

The sheer aura of wealth was overwhelming. The shopkeeper and his employees could feel it pressing on them like invisible pressure. Their eyes sparkled with admiration—and a little envy.

As Dex turned toward the door, Brooke scrambled forward instinctively.

"Let me walk you out, my lord!" he said, bowing again and again.

But Dex didn't stop. He waved him off with a flick of his wrist and stepped out into the street, unconcerned and untouchable.

Brooke watched his figure disappear down the road, feeling as if a storm had just passed through the store—leaving behind a trail of awe, confusion, and gold.

He whispered to himself, with a mix of admiration and longing, "One day... I want to be as cool as him."