“Gate keeper.”

A robed assassin appeared before the seemingly drunk old merman. The Gate Keeper, as he was called, looked up with a ditzy expression.

“Varim der har iz groys.”

“Did the Needle Master pass by?”

The assassin impatiently asked; however, the Gate Keeper was not going to entertain this sort of attitude from the assassin.

“Varim der har iz groys.”

“I apologise. Varim der har iz groys.”

He quickly realised his mistake and tried to clear it up. The Gate Keeper looked at him with a stern warning, before drinking from his bottle.

“Did the Needle Master pass by? I don’t think it was him.”

“A false needle master, you say? Interesting.”

“You haven’t seen him then? We may still have time then. I have reason to believe he was eliminated. They will be coming here, so we need to change the portal’s location- wait... you’ve never referred to him as Needle Master.”

The assassin was immediately on guard. His mind went back to how quickly the person who took down Needle Master moved. It wa