Four major gangs have taken control of Garbandt. Although several dozen lesser groups are vying for dominance, these four are the ones that have stood the test of time despite the chaotic nature of the lawless city. They all make a profit through various means. East Star Clubs has taken over the northern territories and is known for their partnership with many succubi in providing the most infamous adult entertainment clubs in history. The Twilight Bandits are the most widespread group, having members beyond the city that attack caravans and shipments going through trade routes. The other two; Magellan and the Fourth World Syndicate, are lesser-known but manage to hold their own through sheer force. Aside from Zelgarad's Rift, Garbrandt has the highest demonic activity of any area on the continent.

~ Garbrandt: Cooperative Chaos by George Miler

Chester barely survived the training.

The illusionist rarely had the opportunity or will to push himself for his betterment. Although there were times of motivation, he wasn't like Damien, who was as steady as a mountain. Chester likened himself to the wind. Blowing in every direction, sometimes strong, sometimes soft. His efforts were inconsistent and depended heavily on his mood.

But the regimen that Jensen had created had none of that in mind.

The first set consisted of a simple warm-up. Lifting Archie, the massive black panther who weighed as much as a military tank as a group. Although the task seemed daunting and near-impossible at first, with over two dozen elite soldiers participating in the exercise, it wasn't as strenuous as it sounded out to be.

As they strained under the weight of the sleeping feline monster, Jensen would order two random participants to get out and spar. While the group watched them battle, they maintained their hold until the men returned to lifting Archie. It repeated until every single person carrying Archie had fought at least twice. It was basic sword training, although they were heavily encouraged to go hard as they had healers on standby.

Chester was surprisingly okay afterward. His muscles were sore, but his END was only slightly lower than Damien's own. Even compared to the other vampire soldiers, he was only mildly out of breath. The most difficult portion of the exercise was the mental strength it took to keep holding on without any break whatsoever.

"We're moving to the next station. Let's go."

The group didn't even get a minute break. Archie, the monstrous black panther, yawned and turned over on its side after being laid on the ground. Chester resisted the urge to pet it, knowing that there was a small chance of him being consumed whole. As the soldiers walked, the illusionist turned to Damien.

"That wasn't so bad. You're holding up pretty well, too."

"Of course. But I hope you didn't think that was the only thing we had on the menu." Damien had taken off his cloak, showing off his muscular and lean body. Although he was significantly shorter than most, his body still looked proportional. Regardless, Chester didn't think it looked like a body that could withstand the training they'd been up to so far. The curly-haired criminal had discarded his shirt after excessive sweating. The summer heat hadn't done them any favors during their intense training.

After spending almost half a year in this new world, his body had become unrecognizable. Tempered by battle and constant cardio, he looked like an aesthetic bodybuilder that he'd admired on shows like Baywatch. He exhaled, shifting his abs and admiring himself with an extra pump.

Murmurs rose from around him, and Chester wondered why so many were staring at him. Then he realized that he had forgotten his tattoos were on full display. A nearby soldier asked him about them with a red dragon proudly displayed on his back and a ghastly skeleton figure on his left shoulder.

"Those markings...what do they signify? A cult or religion of some sort?"

"No, nothing like that. It's just vanity. Looks cool, doesn't it?"

The soldiers stared at him with raised brows. He was a full-blooded vampire, with a generically beautiful face that Chester found hard to remember. "Hardly. Branding yourself so foolishly. You could be mistaken for a cult member with that sort of symbol."

"That reptile on your back...A dragon?" Whispers intensified as they discussed why Chester had the illustration of a dragon on his back. It didn't sound like the good kind of gossip from Chester's analysis.

Jensen barked at them and prevented any further conversation from happening. The curiosity about his tattoos faded and Chester was left to wonder if there truly were no tattoo artists in Aetheria. He was saddened, as he had planned on getting more pieces done, but complications arose including financial issues and waking up in a magic forest.

'Maybe I can be the first tattoo artist here? That seems cool. I don't know how to tattoo, but I can probably wing it. Who should be my practice partner?'

His thoughts quickly turned to curses as Jensen forced them all into doing hard sparring combined with formation exercises. Jumping from one intense drill to another was taking a toll mentally. The vampire lineage proved itself useful as though most of the soldiers possessed less endurance than the curly-haired illusionist, they recovered much faster and managed to keep up despite their inferior stats. During hard sparring, he proved himself to be an absurdly strong and fast opponent. It was enough to offset his general lack of skill with a sword, relying on dirty tactics that grudgingly got the respect of the soldiers for their effectiveness.

In a few of the sparring sessions, he had been paired up with both Damien and Jensen. The only two who seemed to surpass him in terms of sheer combat ability. Jensen was a monster, relying on a pure technicality and cold-blooded efficiency. Without using a weapon, he fended off Chester with ease and seemed to show no difficulty whenever in a contest of strength. Damien was much trickier, relying on strategy and grace. Compared to their previous spars, Chester noticed that Damien had become more aggressive and willing to take a hit. It was for good reason as well, as some of his simple jabs and hits barely fazed the extremely durable boy now.

The illusionist could feel that the vampire prince was taking more initiative and less afraid to exchange with himself, successfully disarming the curly-haired criminal. Chester did not enjoy the feeling of defeat.

By the end of it, Chester had gained the respect of all the soldiers. Two of them had passed out from the rigorous drills, recovering thanks to the nearby priests they had on standby. They were all rewarded with a nice feast and encouraged to eat to their heart's content. The only thing that stopped him from throwing a tantrum.

'Fucking hell. All that and I don't get a single stat upgrade? Stingy bastards.'

"Tell me, Chester. What're you up to?" Damien asked as they recovered by the barrack's mess hall. It was an outdoor dining area with a roof over their head and an open space. It showed a full view of the nearby training grounds and Archie's sleeping figure. The feline's body seemed to rise and fall to its rhythmic breathing.

The illusionist had raised his brow. He had scooped up two loaves and a massive helping of meat stew. The smell was quite tempting after such a hard and rigorous workout. "I don't appreciate how you're stereotyping me into this sort of thieving bastard. What do you take me for?"

"That is what I take you for."

"You are such a-Nevermind. The point is, I'm not doing anything." Chester said, meeting the boy's eyes and doing his best to look trustworthy. 'At least, not yet. I still need Alda to show me the defenses on the Vault.'

Ever since he heard that the Royal Family stored Attainium in there, he wanted it. Partially because Arber had pissed him off and refused to fulfill a commission, and mainly because he wanted more Attainium to use as a potential armor. The illusionist imagined himself in a full suit of living, magical metal that shaped itself to whatever he wished.

"...Fine. I'm trusting you on this, you hear me? This is a kingdom we have a close relationship with. You doing your thing would probably screw up a centuries-old alliance. Or even worse, you'd get thrown in prison or executed.”

“Don’t you have any faith in me, Damien?” The illusionist seemed affronted by the boy’s lack of trust. “Besides, you know me. If I do anything, I won’t get caught if I do end up doing anything.”

The boy placed his head on the table with a dull thudding noise. His bowl clattered as his forehead made contact with the wooden counter.

“This is what I’m talking about. Don’t you have a conscience?” Damien tried to appeal to the man once more. “A lot of the benefits we have, including our VIP treatment here are because of me. Couldn’t you humor me just this once?”

“Damien, do you know the story of the scorpion and the frog?”

“No. And I see you didn’t answer when I asked if you have a conscience.”

“The scorpion asks the frog to help him cross the river. The frog agrees. Midway through the river, the scorpion stings the frog and dooms them both. As they die, the frog doesn’t understand why the scorpion would willingly kill themselves to which it responded, ‘it’s in my nature.’”

Damien gave him a dumbfounded stare. “That’s a stupid story. So you’re saying that your nature is to steal?”

“Basically, yeah.”

“You ran rounds with Jensen’s soldiers? Impressive.” Alda exclaimed, looking up at the illusionist. “You ready for the tour?”

“Oh am I.” Chester said, rotating his arm as he stretched the soreness out of his body. “Where are you going to take me first?”

The two walked into the palace, well into the afternoon. The palace was militaristic in its design, and much less aesthetic than structures found in Elway. Nevertheless, a palace was a palace.

Outside of it was a chock full of dwarven soldiers. Sentries were situated in high towers, manning cannons, and other ranged weapons that looked on par with the artillery available in the American military.

“You’ve been here to the entrance, but I’ll provide some more know-how. Our castle is designed to delay and fend off sieges for as long as possible. Keeping the enemies distracted allows enough time for reinforcements to come in and perform a pincer movement.”

“Is that why the barracks are situated so close to the palace?”

She nodded her head, the simple bun bobbing along with her head. Chester couldn’t help but ask how an attractive woman like her became the garrison leader. He didn’t know how strong Alda was, but he knew it was at least on par with him and Damien.

The illusionist vividly remembered her naked body covered in scars from various weapons. Chester wasn’t new to body deformations. Most of his body showed subtle signs of battles past, including his run-in with the Warbear. A long scar running from his clavicle and shoulder had turned into a thin, discolored line. He thought they looked cool. Alda’s figure was covered in similar wounds, showing just how severe her wounds were and how dedicated she was to her job.

“Although in strength I fall short to the vampires, my purpose is to maintain the line to allow General Drake and her soldiers to come through. It doesn’t happen often, but over decades you become used to it.”

As they walked, they passed more dwarves. There was a split between common servants and soldiers. Chester was the primary outlier, standing heads and shoulders above the rest of the crowd.

“Further ahead on the right, that’s where the Royal Family lives. They don’t go out much, but you'll see them eventually if you stick around for a bit. Treat them with respect, alright?”

Chester didn’t know why everybody treated him like a child. He knew when to be subtle and blend in, and he knew when to cause a ruckus. An instinct that had served him well since his time on the rough streets of America. Although Damien viewed him as an insensitive and callous person, the silver-tongued human knew when to be friendly and unassuming. He just never cared enough to act it out unless the situation required it.

The palace was massive, closer to a massive mall than a place where people lived. After a minute of walking, they finally arrived at the vault.

No, the Vault.

He expected a massive door fixed to the wall with those turning wheels which were larger than appropriate to open. But it was so much more. Like a miniature building inside the palace, the place was abuzz with activity. Four sentry points guarded the corners with smaller, more refined cannons stationed on the wall. Each dwarf remained vigilant as though they were in the middle of a war.

“Although I can’t reveal it all, there are traps situated around the spots where our soldiers are avoiding. We have extensive training and safeguards that prevent it from triggering off accidentally. Follow my footsteps and try not to stray, alright?”

Chester did as he was told, taking care to avoid everything. He looked at everything with a mix of wonder and awe, partly genuine and as a ploy to act like an innocent tourist.

Alda went in-depth about the dimensions of the vault, its long-standing history, and reputation for being impregnable.

“What’s the closest anyone’s gotten to reaching the vault?”

“There’s this one time when they tried to go through the roof. We honestly don’t know how they got up there, but they collapsed the chandelier up top when trying to get it. We have counter-air measures now, but that’s the closest I remember anyone reached it. They were clever, but not that strong.”

“I’ll give you your props, Alda, working like this, every day? I couldn’t imagine it. The fact you're so open with secrets as well, you're lucky I'm not some sort of thief.”

“It’s not like this every day. General Drake warned us about a potential siege. There have been some scouts that got caught but none of them squealed. And the reason why I'm comfortable telling you all this is simple.” Alda said with a challenging grin up at him. "It's because even if you knew this place with the back of your hand, none of your plans to steal anything would ever work. It'd take a dragon teleporting in the middle of this Vault to land us in hot water."

Chester was honestly a little dumbfounded at the extent of the security. He didn’t think they had this sort of protection for Fort Knox. She explained further how any advancements in their defenses are first updated in the Vault first and foremost, surpassing the amount of protection the Royal Family has for their members.

‘Fuck…I’m not a quitter but look at this thing! Screw getting caught, I could get killed!’

The criminal’s eyes scanned the perimeter and could tell that the entire vault was encased in adamantium. He was sure that dropping a nuclear bomb on the site would leave the actual vault unharmed.

Chester sighed, closing his eyes and deciding to give up for now. He was a risk-taker, not suicidal. His mind tried to think outside of the box, but when his goal was inside the said box he couldn’t generate any meaningful ideas.

“I need to take a piss. Where’s your outhouse?”

“Go back and take a hard left on the first hallway you see.”

“Thanks, thanks. I’ll be right back.”

Alda coughed into her fist smiling a little at the way he mentioned the outhouse. She watched the man's figure slowly shrink as he shuffled along quickly, trying to avoid any dwarves and the path on which she (jokingly) mentioned some traps were placed. Although she had told him not to get attached, she felt some sort of lighthearted exasperation whenever she interacted with the olive-skinned human.

‘All our guests are always surprised by the fact we don’t have garderobes. I wonder what his reaction will be?’