A Black Market LitRPG

The soldiers were decimated in minutes, unable to fight against the sheer strength and prowess of Kyle. Kyle continuously moved through the battlefield like a shadow, picking up fallen weapons and using them at various angles, keeping track in his mind of how much ammo each position had.

Kyle did not bother himself with questions of why they were so worthless, only aiming at killing everyone that came into the grain storage area to the best of his abilities. The groups of soldiers were merely the first wave, as other looters and thugs who saw the clear signs of anarchy began to flood in.

When Diya arrived in force a few hours later, the entire area was practically a bloodbath, with Kyle standing alone in the midst of piles of corpses, not even exhausted after such a long period of fighting. With the alternating of Penchant of Violence and Intimidation Aura, Kyle was effectively a one-man force against weaker enemies who were easily influenced. His sharpshooting skills from the Galactic Era allowed him to decimate the soldiers and looters with ease.

Kyle knew it wouldn’t be so easy with the actual military – this was just a town garrison whose barrack he had singlehandedly exploded. If they had access to their mortars and machine guns in full, it would have taken me maybe an hour longer.

Diya gulped instinctively; her public image as a dominant leader slightly shrunk as Kyle walked up to her. Her ardent followers that had gathered with her in the dozens all stared in awe, some trembling in fear while Kyle approached, a sort of aura afflicting them.

The followers that Diya had now garnered were made up of the slum dwellers who were paid in food, the only currency that now mattered in Desham. However, many of them were already prepared to flee the moment Kyle attacked, fully recognising his strength.

From another corner, a burly man approached the grain storage area as well, wielding a machine gun in his hand. Some of the followers gasped as well when they saw him. “It’s Makoa of Desham! The original hero!”

Many knew that his name was what sparked this entire chain of events in the first place – a good reputation among them for stealing from the rich and giving to the poor. Though some had suffered at the hands of the military because of him, they recognised that their anger should be taken out on the rich and the military, not Makoa himself.

“Why is he here?”

“Is he here to help us? Or to stop us?”

The seemingly three-way confrontation played out right in front of their eyes as Kyle and Makoa both stood in front of Diya, who did not back down herself.

Instead of a fight breaking out, Kyle and Makoa immediately placed their hands on their chest and bowed. “Queen Diya, we have completed our missions.” They said in unison, shocking the followers. Queen? Is she hidden royalty?

“Good. We shall now consolidate our control of Desham.” Diya played along, fully acting out the image of a competent queen and motioning with her hands to her followers. “Round up all those who tries to flee, and all those who loot what belongs to us! I will never forgive the sins of those who oppressed us! Never!”

“NEVER!” The followers chanted back.

“Never!”

“NEVER!” The followers roared in synchronization, lifting their stolen repeaters up into the air.

The dead soldiers and guards were looted for all they were worth – guns, ammunition, equipment and anything of value. Once fully geared up, they stormed towards the council building, intending to overtake what represented as the seat of power in Desham.

As Diya, Kyle and Makoa led the charge in, Diya was surprised to see that there were still a few stubborn council members who refused to leave the city and evacuate. Under the plan she and Kyle had crafted together, it was assumed that every council member would flee the city, leaving only looters and deserters.

Of course, Kyle did not want any word of the revolution to spread. It wouldn’t be good if Nox or Mornero got wind of a rebellion in one of their towns just before the war. He had to time to reveal while the Versian Government was occupied with the war; thus until then he planned to send false information to deceive them otherwise.

It was why he captured the old Nest Informant and modified his slave engraving, along with collapsing the entrances and exits for everywhere in Desham. He even got Hayden to build a larger version of his original arctech radio aimed at exploding handguns, modifying the engraving to blanket jam all communications.

As for the outskirts, he had the mineral ants prowl around and kill anyone who tried to leave their farms or houses before they could even spread the word or send the message. Kyle would have to do a lot more work to ensure that any form of communication would not leak out – traders would still come to the border of Desham and notice something wrong.

“Who are you? You’re not a council member!” An elderly council member snapped at Diya as he sat on an arctech wheelchair, slowly moving towards them.

The three of them ignored the council member, simply strutting past him while her followers immediately grabbed the council member and dragged him out of the building. “We now rule this town under Queen Diya of Desham! Get out!”

Despite the revolution against the nobility, the locals were not opposed to the system at all – rather, they were opposed to the idea of them not being at the top of the system. The slum dwellers were more than happy to have the chance to establish a new class hierarchy in the town, to let those who had gloated at their suffering feel their former pain.

As such, the followers were more than happy to prop Diya up as the Queen, using her as a figurehead while they themselves looked forward to attaining new positions of power. Kyle also anticipated all of this, understanding that dictatorships can never run just because of a single person.

Even during his time as a Galactic Crime Lord, it was only because of the benefits that he brought to those following him that they were willing to follow his orders and respect his authority as the unchallenged authority. No dictatorship can survive without its cronies, who have every reason to keep the system running.

It was in this way that Diya’s followers were slowly organised, with the more outspoken individuals taking up leadership in certain areas. Diya and Kyle entered the main meeting hall alone, closing the door behind them as they examined the aftermath of the council’s members’ panic.

“I never thought that within a short week, we could make it all the way here,” Diya remarked as she walked up to one of the elaborate chairs, plopping down into it and feeling its velvet surface. “So, what would you have me do now?”

Diya understood well that she was merely a puppet now, dancing along to Kyle’s tune. However, after obtaining control of Desham, she felt like the deal with the devil was more than worth it, far better than her previous lowly station of slum dweller fixer.

“We will still need to clean up the city. The legitimacy of your reign is the most important right after a coup. Makoa and I will begin to root out all the looters and deserter groups from the city, but you will have to consolidate and convince the people of your right to power.”

“How do I do that?”

“Start with a few executions coupled with a few free meat banquets. Carrot and stick. Your supporters are the populous poor and those downtrodden – show that you are on their side, and you would have earned more than half of the town’s vote. You’ve done a speech before; you can do it again.”

Diya nodded, the two of them getting to work immediately. The idea of her being the lord of Desham motivated her greatly, pushing herself to her limits. The continuous fighting had taken a toll on both her and her followers, but the initial fervour was now running hot in their veins, and she did not intend to stop the momentum. “Get me Officer Gabriel now!”

Outside on the streets, the looters and huddled groups of refugees shouted and yelled at each other, despair and panic taking hold of their hearts as they saw no way out of the town, unsure of what was to happen to them. As the looters attempted to rip valuable goods and steal young daughters away from their families, a gunshot rang clear and through, causing everyone to turn their heads.

When they saw figures in the distance of what looked like to be two dozen soldiers, the outnumbered looters immediately fled into the distance, unwilling to fight. At the same time, the refugees prayed that this group of soldiers would not be the same as those who refused to let them out of the city.

“Finally, soldiers who can help us!”

“Soldier! Help us!”

The refugees called out, but their calls soon died out as it became even more apparent that it was the slum dwellers, geared up in the same equipment as the garrison soldiers, though in a slip-shod fashion.

“Under the authority of Queen Diya of Desham, all citizens are to report to the central square now! Refusal to attend is punishable by death.”

“Who the fuck is Queen Diya?”

“Why must we go?! Let us out of Desham now! Keeping us here is a war crime.” A man shouted, earning glares from the slum dwellers. One of the dwellers recognised the man, his face grinning as he walked up to grab the man by the neck, dragging him out of the refugee group while his wife and children screamed, only for them to be beaten down by the butts of the repeaters by the other dwellers.

“You, I KNOW YOU!! That stinking rich cunt that levelled my entire slum for your stupid restaurant building!” The dweller gripped the man’s head tightly, squeezing hard

“I, I don’t know what you’re talking about!” The wealthy man tried to deny it, but the other dwellers knew immediately that he was lying.

“Thrash all you want, but today karma comes to you! Round the rest of them up and drag them over”

The wealthy man was tied up immediately, while the rest of the refugees were coerced at gunpoint. They moved to the central square, where a wooden platform was mounted in the centre with two men already tied to a pole - Officer Gabriel and the elderly disabled council member, who was still shouting at the crowd.

“Foolish peasants! Ignorant of what we have done to protect you! Release me this instant!” The elderly council member struggled against the rope that restrained him but to no avail.

Instead of the crowd listening, they were instead happily having a feast, all of the slum dwellers able to eat for free what was left of the food storage area, along with mammoth hog meat. The dwellers laughed and scorned the two prisoners, throwing bones and stones at them.

Diya stood on the platform, waiting for the third man to be dragged up. The wealthy man screamed and thrashed as he fought against his captors, trying to break free. However, he was far too weak, immediately being tied to a pole as he continuously shifted his body, trying to get free.

Over the next half an hour, more and more refugees and slum dwellers poured in, with the followers of Queen Diya sorting out those upper-class citizens and capturing them on the spot, tossing them into a makeshift cage where they huddled with dozens of other wealthy businessmen and merchants, the indignant ones a rarity among the majority who were sobbing, knowing their time of execution would soon be near.

“Citizens of Desham! Heed my word!” Diya stood up proudly, holding a loudspeaker in her hand. “The battle for freedom has been long and harsh, but we have prevailed!”

“YEAAAAA!!” Her followers shouted in joy, as did the slum dwellers who were clearly enjoying the free flow of food, eating like kings.

“We have toiled for years under the boots of our oppressors, but no more! Today, I declare that it is not them who is in control of Desham. Not the rich. Not the haughty. Not the greedy! And not even me!”

“For it is you! The people who are in control of Desham! I am and was just like you, a slum dweller living in shame and in poverty. Who among you can say otherwise?”

“I will be your mouthpiece! And the executioner of what the people believe in!”

“First in line – Officer Gabriel, head of the local garrison who trampled on us, raided us, had his soldiers fire machine guns right into us. Kill or pardon?!”

“KILL! KILL! KILL! KILL!”

Diya grinned, pulling out an ornate axe taken from the council building, a heirloom from the previous nobles of Desham. With a single swooping cut, she lobbed off the head of Gabriel, his head spiralling into the crowd as they cheered.

“Let the feast begin!”

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