Heavy Metal

"This is truly maddening… Who do these inferior creatures think they are?"

"Just be quiet. What if they have dark mana-detecting tools and discover you? Perhaps it would be best if you called Aburdon away."

"Hah! You'd like that, wouldn't you, hero? But my dear Rusty needs my expertise - more than yours!"

"Be quiet, both of you."

Rusty silenced his two guides through their mental link, putting an end to their bickering. They had already been waiting in line for over an hour before finally entering the city building - only to find an even longer queue inside. Gleam had to be left outside as no monsters were allowed in so she skittered over to a hiding place and kept her distance. The interior was both simple and cramped. It seemed as though the designer had tried to maximize the use of space by cramming everything into a single chamber, leaving barely any room to move.

A narrow corridor led to numerous locked doors, each marked with a small plate describing what lay beyond. Only one person was allowed inside at a time. Rusty managed to steal a few glances through the openings - steel bars separated those entering from whoever was within. The setup made it clear that the officials feared potential violence, and judging by the rough appearances of many waiting in line, that concern wasn't unfounded.

The main reason he had come here was to secure a lair for himself. He had plenty of money stashed away from his journey and could always acquire more if needed. He still had monster parts and various other items stored away that he could pawn off if necessary. However, his first priority was to determine the cost of a home and whether purchasing one was even possible.

His plan was simple. First, he would acquire a home and use it as a base to sell basic weaponry and tools. The blacksmith's head he had obtained would serve as his cover whenever someone inquired about the craftsman behind the goods. It was also possible that he would need to register his second identity in this city, but from what he had observed, the settlement's laws seemed fairly lax. Perhaps that wouldn't be necessary after all.

Rusty scanned the row of tarnished plates hanging above the doors, each bearing a different municipal notice. One, however, immediately seized his attention. Carved in elegant, slightly faded script, it read: "Property Transactions – Purchase, Lease, or Exchange." This was the place he would find his lair and the wait resumed. After another hour of standing around and doing nothing, he was finally able to reach the door and hear the magic words.

"Next."

At last, a tired city clerk beckoned him forward. Rusty straightened his posture, pocketed the thoughts of his potential lair, and stepped toward the designated door. After pushing it open, he was met by a cramped, dim room. Inside, the room was unmistakably plain, with signs of neglect in every corner.

The air carried a faint musty scent, and the wooden floor creaked under his heavy boots. Dust had settled in the corners of the room, undisturbed for what seemed like months. It was illuminated by a few oil lamps and lacked any windows. Parchments were piled haphazardly on the desk, some yellowed with age, others bearing ink smudges and stains from hurried, careless handling.

A heavy iron grille separated Rusty from the clerk within. The bars were thick, reinforced by additional metal bands at the base and top, making it clear that whoever designed this room expected trouble from those who entered. The official seated on the other side was a middle-aged man with sunken eyes and deep wrinkles etched into his face, likely from years of dealing with frustrated buyers and angry petitioners. His long, bony fingers tapped impatiently against the desk as he squinted at Rusty through the bars. Behind him was a single door, probably one he would use to escape if anyone got violent.

"You here to buy, lease, or complain?"

The man asked, his voice flat and devoid of interest.

"Buying."

Rusty shifted his stance, uneasy. The room felt too confined for his liking, but what unsettled him more was the lack of an escape route. There wasn't even a place to hurl his helmet through if he needed to abandon his body. Still, his guides reassured him that as long as he didn't do anything unusual, nothing would happen. If the people here truly saw him as a monster, they would have acted already and would not have let him in.

"Buying, huh?"

The clerk flipped through the pages with a practiced hand, barely skimming the contents.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

The clerk narrowed his eyes as he flipped another page in his ledger.

"I must inform you that all the best properties have long been taken by those with deeper pockets. What remains are run-down houses in the slums. They carry a heavy price tag even in their current state."

"Slums?"

Rusty knew what slums were, but for someone like him, a living suit of armor created in a dark dungeon, there was little difference between a slum and anywhere else. His only concern was finding a place to stay for the night and securing a cover for his crafting scheme.

"I understand. I'm not looking for a mansion. Something with four walls and a cellar will suffice, preferably something spacious."

He still preferred dungeon-like spaces, so an underground area to serve as a smithy would be ideal. The condition of the house above did not matter. He did not need a bed, warmth, or even a roof that kept out the rain.

"A cellar?"

The old clerk continued flipping through the pages, his sunken eyes scanning for any listings that matched Rusty's request. He stopped on a particular sheet, tracing a bony finger down the parchment.

"There is a property in the far eastern part of Ferndale, near the outer wall. It has a basement. The structure itself is… well, let's just say it hasn't seen upkeep in quite some time."

"It can't be that bad, right?"

He tilted his head at the mention of a possible lair. Its location near one of the walls was also a good sign. His guides had advised him to establish his base close to an escape route. They had even suggested digging a tunnel beneath the city walls to ensure a way out if he was ever discovered.

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

"The roof has partially collapsed, and the wooden beams have rotted away in several places. The previous owner abandoned it years ago after the foundation started sinking on one side. It has been deemed unfit for living by most."

He paused, then added.

"Yet, it still carries a heavy cost as the underground basement has remained mostly intact but still needs extensive repairs."

"Oh… that sounds great! How much?"

Rusty asked, thinking that the description fit what he was looking for.

"You wish to know the price without inspecting the property first?"

The old man's eyes narrowed as if he was looking at a fool but he didn't care much to attempt to dissuade him. Instead, he took some papers and started writing down something.

"Please give this to a clerk in the next room, they will prepare a guide for you. If you deem the new residence worthwhile he will help you prepare the contract for the land ownership."

Rusty accepted the handwritten note and stepped out of the cramped room. Fortunately, he didn't have to waste another hour waiting to enter this new area. A younger clerk stood behind a worn wooden counter, far less protected than the previous one. After handing over the note, he was instructed to wait outside the town hall for someone to escort him. With that, his business here seemed to be done.

"This better be worth it. I do not wish to return here again. It's such a bore."

Aburdon grumbled, still unaccustomed to the long waiting times that came with human affairs.

"We might have to come back to register the smithy."

Alexander reminded them. The secondary identity had yet to be officially recorded in the city. The people of Ferndale didn't seem too concerned with commoners, and the guards had let him through with nothing more than a bribe. That was one of the reasons he had chosen this place as his lair. He realized that people in this world are slaves to the golden coin. As long as he kept making money, he could continue to pay off those who might otherwise interfere. Comfort didn't matter to him. His only goal was to grow stronger.

"Is that person coming or not? It's starting to get dark…"

Rusty remained outside waiting. He had heard that city workers usually did not work night shifts, so the sun going down was a bad omen. Eventually, he heard someone running in the distance. To his surprise, it was not another old and tired-looking man but a young woman with strange, fluffy ears protruding from her head. She saw him and started sprinting, but before she could reach him, her foot caught on a rock, and she fell straight onto her face. The many documents she had been carrying flew into the air and smacked Rusty in the chest.

"Guuuhhh…"

Her orange hair was now streaked with dirt, along with her work clothes. Rusty tilted his head in surprise as a flurry of documents collided with his chest. He managed to catch most of them before they hit the ground, while the young messenger, clad in rough work clothes now smeared with dirt, scrambled to gather the scattered papers.

"I am sorry…"

She said in a soft, trembling voice. Her bright orange hair and curious, fluffy ears marked her as someone belonging to a feline beastman tribe and also not much older than nineteen.

"No harm done. I think this is yours."

He said, holding out the papers to her as she continued picking up the ones she had dropped. It felt like she was not only handling his issue but also had a mountain of work waiting for her once she was finished here.

" (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶) "

"... ACK!"

" ( ˶°ㅁ°) !! "

The young feline girl recoiled in shock as Gleam suddenly appeared beside her. The small silvery ant had been hiding on a nearby rooftop for the longest time, watching from a distance before finally approaching to check on what Rusty was doing. Startled, the girl fell back again, her ears twitching as fear flickered across her face. Gleam, just as startled, jumped back as well.

"Oh, don't be afraid. That's Gleam. She's my friend!"

Rusty reassured her.

"(˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)"

Gleam skittered around his leg before perching back onto his shoulder. The feline girl, still wide-eyed, stared at the small creature in disbelief. The young feline girl blinked rapidly, then forced a small smile as she gathered her scattered papers.

"I am Lira, I have been assigned to escort you to the property."

Her voice wavered slightly as she bowed her head multiple times in apology for the clumsy entrance.

"Thank you, Lira. I appreciate your help."

Rusty replied, attempting to imitate the cheerful tone that some humans carried, but he did not quite get it right. Instead of reassuring the girl, his awkward attempt only seemed to startle her further. Alexander, who had been silently observing, spoke up in a low tone that resonated directly in Rusty's mind.

"She appears to be new and still in training. I suspect the senior workers left her to work tonight because they could not be bothered."

Lira's cheeks flushed a soft pink as she hurried to lead the way.

"If you would follow me, please. The property is located near the outer wall of Ferndale in the eastern quarter."

Soon, the two were on their way. Lira's gaze held a hint of cheerfulness, and she navigated the alleyways with practiced ease as if she had lived here for a long time. Perhaps this was why she had been chosen to guide him. Rusty followed closely behind, his mind already calculating the possibilities of a new lair. His thoughts drifted to the previous description. A building with a crumbling roof and a basement that had remained mostly intact despite years of neglect. It showed potential.

After they left the district it was clear that they had arrived at the slums. The buildings looked rougher and more worn than those in the heart of the city. Narrow streets wound between structures that bore the marks of long neglect. Rusty trailed behind Lira as she guided him along an uneven path littered with rubble and fading signs of former life. The air carried the scent of damp stone and horse manure, making Gleam's antennae twitch in protest.

" ( ¬ _ ¬ ) "

"Just bear with it for now, Gleam. Our new lair awaits!"

Gleam did not seem too happy about this place, but she kept quiet while looking around. There were a few people lingering in the streets, many of whom were quite thin. However, the number of beggars was surprisingly small, reminding Rusty of the scene when he first arrived here. It seemed that the people in this city got rid of anyone who could not contribute. Even in the slums, those who remained still found ways to work.

The outer wall of Ferndale loomed ahead, its surface marred by time and weather. As they walked, the cityscape grew increasingly desolate until they finally reached a modest building with a sagging roof and walls that looked ready to crumble at any moment. Rusty examined the structure carefully. It was a two-story building, but the upper floor had a collapsed roof, which would likely make it difficult for anyone to use the bed chambers there. The walls were made of stone, showing signs of wear, but they could potentially be repaired.

Lira halted in front of a creaking door that led into a small initial room. She hesitated before glancing at Rusty and speaking.

"Dear customer, this is the property… while it might not look like much… I'm sure it's worth the coin…"

Her voice wavered as she spoke, making it clear that she was not very good at lying. She had a key to insert into the door, but once she managed to unlock it, the entire door slanted forward and almost crashed to the ground as it had been held up only by the lock.

Lira scrambled to hold it up before it fell completely, as if trying to hide the fact that it did not function as a door should. Her hands fumbled against the worn wood, her tail twitching in nervous desperation. It was clear she was doing her best to conceal as many of the property's flaws as possible.

"She is really bad at this…"

Alexander's voice resonated in Rusty's mind, his tone filled with sympathy. The feline woman's attempt was painfully obvious. Nevertheless, Rusty stepped forward, his metallic visor scanning the interior to determine whether this place had the potential to become his new lair…