Nareth arrived at the central dome of West Hantman with two subordinates. In front of the three-story gray building stood two guards holding weapons.
"Are you Nareth?"
"That's right."
The guards eyed the lasgun strapped to his back warily.
"You go in alone. And unarmed."
Nareth complied, removing his lasgun and chainsword, handing them to his subordinates.
The guards relaxed slightly. The one on the left spoke:
"Lord Dimitrov is waiting for you in the arbitration hall on the third floor."
Along the way, people looked at the boy with surprise.
"That's the boy who killed 'Vulture'?"
"'Vulture' must've been drunk. Killed by a runt like that?"
"I heard his marksmanship is insanely accurate, better than the governor's guards. Every shot goes right through the enemy's eye."
"…"
Nareth clearly heard their murmurs but walked calmly up to the third floor.
The entire third floor, over 400 square meters, was occupied by the arbitration hall. After another check at the door confirming he was unarmed, the guards let him in.
Inside, a man stood with his back to him, wearing a gray uniform. His left arm had been replaced with a steel prosthetic.
"Woof! Woof!"
The chemical hound stood as tall as a man
It bolted toward Nareth, green eyes locked onto his black ones, its long tongue reaching to lick his face, the stench so intense it wafted out the doorway.
"Yogane, back!"
Dimitrov turned around. The large dog retreated to his side, wagging its tail.
The arbitrator stroked its fur and looked at Nareth.
"They said a boy killed 'Vulture.' I thought it was an exaggeration, but you're even younger than I imagined."
"Yogane, don't scare the kid."
He emphasized the word kid.
"Ancient Terra had a saying: 'Heroes aren't measured by their age.'"
Nareth's voice was ice cold. "If your dog misbehaves, I'd be happy to teach it manners. Starting with twisting off its head."
Dimitrov's eyes narrowed. His scan confirmed the child was unarmed. A smirk crept across his face.
He had raised Yogane himself since becoming an arbitrator, adding plenty of enhancers to traditional Vostroyan formulas.
No matter how vicious the underhive criminals were, once the chemical hound targeted them, they were torn apart.
If Nareth had a gun, Dimitrov might be cautious, but empty-handed, the boy was easy prey.
'Still, it'd be a pity to waste such potential.'
"The beast could use discipline. Succeed, and I'll bear no grudge."
"Fail... and you'll train under me."
With that, he slapped the chemical hound on the head. It went berserk, leaping high into the air to pounce on Nareth.
Nareth's black eyes locked onto the beast. Beneath its thick brown fur, he spotted its throat, faintly yellow. A habit of Yogane's.
After drinking chemical agents, it liked to savor the taste, which over the years had corroded its already vulnerable throat, its weak spot, now hidden by thick fur.
Most enemies were overwhelmed by its massive body and the pungent chemical odor.
Nareth pivoted slightly, causing the beast to crash into the ground.
He clamped its neck with his arms, locking onto that yellow line, and clamped its body tightly with his legs.
With a loud crack, the arbitrator watched in shock as the boy twisted the hound's neck.
Dimitrov stared, stunned, as if seeing a human-shaped monster. Someone had actually snapped the chemical hound's neck barehanded.
"I'll be taking this head with me."
Nareth needed only the tongue, a key for his "Lawyer" potion, but claiming the whole head masked his intent.
"Hmm…" The arbitrator looked at the bloodied corpse.
"D-46 Foundry is yours. Everything continues as usual."
"Alright."
Nareth turned and left. He didn't sense any killing intent from Dimitrov, and he wasn't ready to challenge the old order of the West Hantman dome just yet.
Once outside, he pulled out a prepared rope, tied the dog head, and slung it across his back.
People along the way recognized the arbitrator's chemical hound and stared at the boy in astonishment.
He walked up to his subordinates.
"Take me to the Hive City's giant rats."
"Yes, boss."
A moment later, they brought him to a long, narrow tunnel.
"Boss, this passage is the largest colony of giant rats among the hundreds of passages around the West Hantman dome."
"Let's go."
"Boss… just the three of us? Shouldn't we call the others?"
The one with the gray rat tattoo on his left arm asked in disbelief.
"Boss, there are thousands of giant rats in this tunnel! Even with your insane shooting skills, it's too much!"
"I have my own way." Nareth looked at them. "So, do you want rat meat or just the skin?"
They looked at the sword-wielding Nareth skeptically. Even if his swordsmanship matched his marksmanship, his body was still that of a child. Each rat was larger than him.
These rats were fast, had steel-piercing teeth, and worst of all, there were too many. In these tight corridors, they could be overwhelmed in seconds.
They didn't want to go, but couldn't refuse. They had seen Nareth kill without blinking, one shot, one kill.
The two exchanged glances, reading the bitter resignation in each other's eyes. They said in unison:
"...We're with you, Boss."
They followed Nareth into a dim tunnel ten men wide and watched him start the chainsword.
The roar was particularly piercing in the passage.
The tunnel trembled. The rats' screeching made their scalps tingle. Countless red eyes made their legs shake.
The two of them didn't have time to stop it, they couldn't run if they wanted to, they sighed in their hearts.
'This time I'm definitely dead. Thought we followed a powerhouse…only for him to be a reckless kid.'
Just then, Nareth moved.
Every swing of his blade killed a giant rat.
As their eyes adjusted to the darkness, they saw the boy ahead like a ruthless killing machine.
Suddenly, a rat nearly two meters long lunged at Nareth from above.
"Boss! Look out!"
Nareth was faster than the warning. He jumped to the side, dodging both the ambush from above and another pounce from the front.
The two giant rats collided. The larger one screamed, and the smaller one froze in fear, then was bitten to death.
Before the big one could react, Nareth was at its side and kicked it in the head.
It was knocked unconscious. The rest of the rats stopped, then turned and fled.
"Boss! You caught the rat king! The swarm's run off!"
Nareth slung the chainsaw sword on his back.
"You two, each carry two rats back. You've earned your meat."
"Thanks, boss! You're brilliant!"
"Boss is the king of the underhive!"
They scrambled to flatter him. Now they knew—following this boss meant a bright future.
Nareth slung the unconscious rat king over his shoulder.
"Let's go."
The men each carried two roughly one-meter rat. The rats weighed about 30 kilograms each, so carrying two at 60 kg was tiring, but manageable for men used to living on the edge.
Nareth didn't return to the foundry right away. He first exchanged one of the giant rats for 2000 ml each of four Vostvoth chemical variants: black, gray, yellow, and green.
He only needed the black—the rest were decoys.
'Back at the foundry, I'll pull a wirevine—then all my potion ingredients are complete.'