Foster walked through the alleyways. Of course, with his outfit, he quickly became an object of attention to whoever he passed by.

“Oi, you there. In the wrong part of town, ain’t we?” A random thug pointed out with a grin, trying to look tough in front of the others around him. Foster looked at him, evaluating him with a few glances. He did have a pretty strong build, but that didn’t mean that he was actually all that strong compared to Foster. He himself had become much stronger in the past few weeks, after all, “I’m right where I want to be.” He replied bluntly. The thug glared at him, walking forward with his chest pressed out. He seemed around the same height as Foster, even if he was taller right now because he was trying to appear as such to seem tougher.

Foster let out an annoyed sigh, and simply walked past him. He didn’t want to deal with any thugs right now. But of course, being in front of others, the thug didn’t just let Foster go. With an already bothersome expression on his face, he grabbed Foster’s shoulder, trying to force him to stop. A bit annoyed, he slid his right foot forward, making his body follow behind, while kicking his left leg backward, using his torso to balance it out. The kick wasn’t just a normal kind either, though. The moment that his foot impacted with the pit of the thug’s stomach, something like a small, familiar explosion of force traveled outward. Like something was trying to make the impact stronger than it actually was. It came through Foster’s new Martial Skill that he learned once his skill leveled up.

— 

[Heavy Kick][Tier – 1]

[Description: Hit your target with a single strengthened kick]

— 

It was practically just ‘single strike’, just that he could use it with kicks. Foster had been trying to replicate this with just single strike for a while, since the word ‘strike’ didn’t necessarily just refer to one’s hands, but it seemed like skills and spells were still a bit stricter than he had hoped. It wasn’t like he could use his ‘Chilling Touch’ spell anywhere but through his hands either.

Either way, it seemed like the kick was rather effective, especially since that guy didn’t expect it. He was touching his stomach in pain after falling to his knees. Given the chance, maybe Foster should try and test something else as well. He turned around, and pressed his hand right onto the thug’s face. There were two spells that he didn’t have the chance to try out yet, and one that might actually come in useful this time around.

A chilling energy flowed thorugh his arm. One that made Foster himself feel rather nauseous just thinking about. It was forced into the thug’s body through Foster’s gloved hand, and it didn’t take long for it to take effect either. The thug, unsure what just happened to him, tried to stand up and fight back against this random man in front of him, but the moment that he tried, his legs gave in, and he fell back to the ground. The thug’s breathing became heavier together with his whole body.

“Wh-What did you do to me..?” He yelled out, followed by a cough attack, and Foster simply smirked as he started to walk away, “It’s just a flu, don’t worry about it.”

— 

[Diseased Touch][Tier – 2]

[Description: Through your hand, you let transformed Necromantic energies flow into your target, infecting them with disease imitating a strong flu. In rare cases, this disease can infect others around the target through their mana]

— 

Foster walked away, quite happy to have figured out that this spell did indeed work rather quickly. While it took a lot of mana to use, being a Tier 2 spell, it was definitely worth it. Chilling touch was useful, but for the most part it was a bit too gruesome to use if he wasn’t planning on killing the being in front of him. It quite literally made part of one’s flesh rot away, and even in light cases, it would cause disgusting rashes on one’s skin, apparently. But this? It simply immediately weakened whatever he used the spell on. And as far as Foster understood, spells like this only lasted as long as the caster’s mana lingered around. He figured that with the amount of mana he used for it, the spell would last a few hours at most, so it wasn’t really lethal either.

“I really hit the jackpot with this class, huh~? Necromancy feels a bit sinister, but it’s not as bad as I thought.” Foster said with a grin underneath his skull mask. It didn’t take long for him to reach the warehouse. The people sitting in front of it looked Foster up and down, until they recognized the mask he was wearing. Immediately, they jumped up and out of the way, scared of what this man was here for.

“Calm down, I’m not going to do anything this time. Except if you give me a reason to.” Foster said with a sigh, “Where’s Himkijl?”

“…He’s in the office…” One of them replied quickly, before Foster passed by them without another word. Of course, as was to be expected with what Foster did the last time he was here, anyone that noticed him stopped whatever they were doing, just staring at this person walking through the warehouse like he owned it.

With a casual stride, Foster climbed up the stairs, before pushing open the door to Himkijl’s office, “Honey, I’m home~!” 

The moment the door slammed open, the people inside jumped up, “You!” The Elf of the group yelled out. But she wasn’t the only one that was upset with seeing Foster. The Orc, Human, and Lizardman weren’t that happy about his sudden appearance either.

The Orc’s arm was wrapped up in bandages, but nothing more than that. The broken bone was probably healed through magic, since the Elf seemed to be a mage of some sort. The ones that entered their combat stances first were the Human and Lizardman, though, both of which seemed ready to rip Foster’s head off the instant they got the chance.

“Stand down, he’s not here to fight, you know this.” The Hogmir, which the four of them had been trying to hide behind their bodies, told them. Listening to their boss’ words, they reluctantly stepped to the side, and Himkijl stood up, “Odin, what can I do for you?”

Foster looked around the room for a moment, and quickly closed the door behind him, “I need some favors from you guys.”

“Favors? Who do you think you-” The Orc yelled out angrily, but Foster’s glare that peaked out through his mask quickly interrupted him, “Shut up, if you don’t want me to break your other arm as well. You all understand that I’m not the bad guy here, right? You robbed an old man’s store and completely trashed it, but the only thing I did was break a few bones. And then I even offered to help you clean up this organization. And this is the thanks I get? Great job taking care of your underlings, Himkijl.”

The boarman walked past everyone, and soon stood right in front of Foster, “I know that we were in the wrong, but you’re no saint either, Odin. So please refrain from talking about my people like that.”

With a grin, Foster placed his arm on Himkijl’s shoulder, “That’s what I like to hear. Listen, I told you before, I’m here to help out, alright? The lot of us are scum, but we’re not inhuman. Defending your family is the least you can do. And of course, if we all want to work together, a bit of trust and respect is needed, right? Not just between you all, but me too.” He pointed out, and slowly placed his hand onto his mask, before pulling it off his face. Surprised, Himkijl took a step back.

“My full name is Foster Odin Locke, I’m a novice adventurer in this town. But just because I’m a novice doesn’t mean I’m weak, obviously. I’m used to fighting, but only recently did I get my class. I’m both a Martial Artist, and a Necromancer, believe it or not. What I used to break that guy’s… Kir, was it? Anyway, I broke his arm using the martial skill ‘Bone Breaker’ that I got as a reward for clearing the Fail-Type Dungeon, ‘Little Undead Laboratory’.” He explained, telling his true information to them.

It was a risk, obviously, but a risk that he had to take at this point. Foster found Himkijl to be the sort of person he could work with together quite well, and he seemed as trustworthy as a gangster could be. And since those four were still here, he figured that they were people that Himkijl could trust. Foster told him to get ride of those he couldn’t last time he was here, after all.

“Why are you telling us all this?” The boarman asked, before Foster stepped past him, as well as the others in the room. He dropped down onto the armchair that Himkijl sat on just a few moments ago, crossing his legs with a light smile, “As I said, trust and respect are needed in our business to be able to work together well. So this is the least I can do, if I want us to work together from now on. After all, I’m serious about this, believe it or not. You did stuff I don’t like, but let’s be honest, I did stuff in the past that disgust the ‘me’ from today as well, so I’m in no position to hold a grudge..” Foster explained, “So now, let’s get to business.”