Lurking

Chapter - 21

The two of them stood stiffly at the edge of the road, rainwater seeping through their hair, soaking through their coats, and drenching their bodies. The rain showed no sign of stopping, as if it were mourning a world already broken.

Yet the cold and the wet were not what occupied their minds. Their gazes were fixed on the city square, gathering information about robed men who were now trading calmly, blending in with others as if they had never dragged anyone into the darkness of the night before.

They were not the same individuals as the four robed men from before, each squad of whom had been killed by Ren and Zavi.

At this moment, they might be disguising themselves as merchants in the square, trying to find out who had killed their comrades and where their bodies were.

Through an Avatar created by Karl, disguised as a robed man under a different identity.

It might sound strange. Why did the robed men of the sect and their four companions not realize that Karl was a spy?

With the abilities of a Level 2 Sorcerer, he could create an Avatar nearly indistinguishable from an ordinary human and control it. No matter how far the Avatar was, even beyond the universe, in other realms such as the spirit realm, hell, or heaven, he would never lose control over it at the next level, even at level two—just opened it and can control it from a distance of one hundred kilometers.

Karl had grown accustomed to this ever since he drank an herbal potion to enhance his control over his sorcerer abilities and successfully refined it, allowing him to deceive his enemies even through intermediaries, despite being a "Hollow."

Since joining a year and a half ago, Conwuqoam, the title of the sect leader of Finiscya, who worshipped the Goddess Camilla, “Ruler of the spirit realm and hell,”

one of the four absolute evil gods,

had been watching Karl closely by attaching a level-two spell, “Addichive,” which clung to him and left a small star-shaped mark on the left side of his neck.

Karl was unaware of the spell, as it was invisible to his eyes and he felt no effect after it was cast.

However, while he was deeply immersed in playing the role of a robed figure, he unknowingly cursed Zavi, and at the same time, he successfully deceived Conwuqoam, who was killed by a bullet loaded with the power of “Controlled,” fired at the right moment. Without anyone realizing it, the spell attached to his neck disappeared.

By attaching a level-one spell, “Information Reversal,” to his Avatar. Information about several sect members who had begun moving toward Moran City, seeking to learn who was involved in ruining their filthy plan.

It was not only the fifteen supernatural abilities known so far. There were also various talismans, herbal potions to increase spiritual energy and raise ability levels, spells ranging from level one to eight, and Hallio, a medium used to control a person’s spirit and soul through water.

Zavi moved first, searching for a tall structure, the bell tower, to carry out the scenario Karl had prepared earlier.

Gradually, the rumble of thunder faded from their ears, signaling that the rain would soon stop. They both looked up at the sky at the same time, Zavi atop the tower and Karl still at the roadside, gazing at the faint blue glow of the moon.

Both of them smiled, pleased that they had confirmed the plan to save the survivors would succeed one hundred percent, believing that the plan would not fail against the rebel sect.

The blue moonlight reflected off the remaining puddles, while the air was filled with the sharp scent of wet earth, the familiar aroma after heavy rain, heavy like dust clinging to the skin.

6:15 p.m., Tuesday.

More than an hour had passed. The merchants had already dismantled their stalls, taking their goods home, some storing them in their own warehouses, others transporting everything by cart or hiring horse-drawn carriages.

And yet… the two of them saw no sign of anything unusual among the merchants in the city square, as if they already knew the two of them had come to capture them.

Zavi was still at the clock tower, about one hundred and thirty meters from Karl, who remained on the side of the road leading to the square.

Using the binoculars Karl had given him earlier, he also made sure his mother was safe, watching her walk carefully through puddles along the road toward the Chapena district, holding an umbrella in her right hand and a sealed paper bag in her left.

From that distant view, Zavi drew his conclusion, certain that tonight his mother would cook a delicious meal, or perhaps not. But for now, he chose to focus on the plan to save the survivors and to scout the disguised members of Conwuqoam’s sect.

But after waiting too long, Zavi began to grow suspicious of what was happening in the square at that moment.

“Damn it… that guy,” Zavi thought, lifting the binoculars and seeing Karl still sitting there, not moving an inch from where he had been earlier.

Was he doing it on purpose, baiting the sect members into coming out and attacking him? Interesting. Seeing how relaxed his expression was, I’m not so sure.

Zavi shook his head.

Not wanting to think about it any further, he decided to shift his focus to the clear fountain, so different from before when it had been blood-red, and to the long wooden benches that partially encircled it, fixing his gaze there.

Without warning, the gas lamps in the first row that illuminated the entrance road and the directional sign toward the Forgenate District suddenly went out, leaving half the area trapped in darkness.

Zavi immediately shifted his binoculars to the left, staring unblinkingly into the darkened street as goosebumps rose along his skin.

A few seconds later, from within the darkness, a faint yellow light appeared, moving slowly but steadily forward.

Zavi reflexively swallowed.

“Why did the gas lamps over there go out?” he thought suspiciously.

Zavi took a deep breath to dispel his panic, trying to stay calm and not act rashly so that the plan to save his mother and the other survivors would succeed.

But for some reason, seeing it made his body shiver. Zavi frowned, slapped his cheeks with both hands, and then pulled a pistol from the pocket of his coat, which had dried in the cold night wind.

The atmosphere atop the tower was freezing, cold enough to numb the feet hidden inside his shoes. Even as the cold wind pierced through his coat and seeped into his pores,

that chill was not what occupied his thoughts. His gaze remained fixed on the yellow light, as if it were somehow warming his body.

Zavi turned around, slipped the brown-colored pistol back into his coat pocket, and began descending the stairs to inform Karl, who was still sitting at the roadside to this very moment.

“Is that a lantern?” he muttered in surprise as he went down the dark stairway. “But… no, no. I’m misunderstanding it.”

He suddenly remembered something strange, an embarrassing incident from Earth eight years ago, when he had just turned twenty.

“Ha ha ha. If he were here… surely…” before he could finish the thought, his expression changed, staring blankly ahead as the embarrassing memory resurfaced, throwing his thoughts into chaos.

Zavi continued downward, descending the stairs carefully. Upon reaching the lowest level, there was a neatly squared opening in the wall that allowed a clear view to the left side of the fountain. His instincts told him to stop. He turned to the right and narrowed his eyes. He was not surprised, but there was nothing there. He looked back again at the yellow light moving slowly within the darkness.

After waiting several seconds with nothing happening, he decided to continue down the stairs. His foot lifted slowly, about to step onto the next stair.

Suddenly, a voice devoid of emotion, cold, and in a language he did not recognize, rang clearly in his ears.

-Mr. Zavi The inevitable sacrifice-

He pulled his foot back and quickly turned around, staring at the building with shimmering blue eyes.

“What!? What language is that? I don’t understand it. It’s not like Talazze, the language used in Moran and other cities of the Norn Kingdom. Is this a language from another continent? The south? Or the west?” Zavi shrugged, utterly confused by a language he could not recall from the original Zavi’s memories.

Ever since he first arrived in this world, where supernatural powers ran rampant and the death toll kept rising, whether from souls stolen by evil spirits or from suicides like what the original Zavi had done back then,

it had convinced Zavi’s heart that this new world of his was deeply wrong.

Damn it… the previous transmigration was already bad enough. Am I going to get involved in even more troublesome things that will complicate my life later on?

He hissed, his expression wavering between resignation to fate and anxiety over whether he would be able to live peacefully after surviving this night.

Exiting the tower, he immediately broke into a run toward Karl. A minute and a half later, Karl had vanished from his sight.

“Where did he go?”

"Has it started?"

Crash!! Tap… Tap…

Zavi stared sharply ahead, witnessing a disturbance at the merchants’ tents to the left. He hurried over, preparing to draw the brown pistol from his pocket.

When he arrived, he stood in the middle of the road, sensing something moving swiftly inside a narrow alley blocked by neatly stacked wooden crates that lined the sidewalk at intervals of dozens meters.

Seeing this, he was puzzled, because the lighting from the entrance road to the Tezny District and the surrounding street lamps and nearby houses were all still lit without any issue.

Yet for some reason, that narrow passage was dark. This only deepened Zavi’s suspicion and convinced him that the alley held a clue he was looking for.

“Should I check it? Besides, the so-called ‘Scenario’ guy suddenly disappeared who knows where.” He shrugged slightly and decided to move closer to the crates.

And… when he was just a few meters away. Suddenly….

Crash!! Whoosh…

Some of the wooden crates scattered everywhere.

Zavi’s body was thrown backward by something lunging out from within the narrow alley, his back slamming hard into the wall behind him, a house already classified within the Tezny District.

“Ah….”

And… as he struggled to endure the pain spreading through his body, Zavi looked toward the narrow alley. Not long after, from within the darkness, a man emerged wearing a long black coat, running in panic as if chased by something, clutching a talisman patterned with a blue moon in his right hand.