Artificial Cat Abilities

Chapter. 51

Even so, neither of them ever considered surrender a worthy option. Life always had a purpose, no matter how unclear its direction, no matter how often it shifted and eroded by time. But if that purpose was never pursued, then what was the point of its existence from the very beginning?

Sadness and the fear of losing something instead sealed off any path of retreat for them. There was no choice but to endure this very moment, to move forward, to accept whatever came, and to hope, however faintly that there would be some kind of answer from the gods above for their resolve to keep living in a world as cruel and terrifying as this.

Living behind shadows had become humanity’s fate. They hid from threats beyond—both from other humans and from things far worse. Because no human was ever truly pure; whether good or evil, deep within always lay a form of cruelty, sometimes even surpassing that of demons themselves. They fought monsters, hid from horrific creatures that kept pouring into the human world, and witnessed terror after terror being born, until fear itself became the most natural state to exist in.

The mist around them began to stir. Moreira felt his heartbeat no longer aligned with his thoughts. Shuisa felt it too, fear without form, without a name, yet undeniably real.

But even that was not enough.

No matter how hard they struggled to escape this place as ordinary humans, everything felt like a direct challenge to common sense itself. Even so, Northerlheim, wrapped in white mist, was not the same world they came from.

“It is… the way this mist-covered world does something that should never have been done.”

The moment those words were spoken, their meaning pierced straight into both of their minds. Their bodies froze instantly, breathless, like a crude drawing made by a small child on a sketchbook, without detail, without movement.

“Maybe this is the last time we meet… and also a farewell,” Moreira said. A false smile carved itself onto his face, fragile, as if it could crumble at any moment.

Shuisa tilted her head slightly, then murmured softly to herself.

What did he just say? Why is it that men always try to act cool in front of women? Weird.

She was still trying to process the sentence when a group of men and women began to emerge from behind the thick white mist. Their bodies floated gently, fragile like ordinary human bodies, yet their presence radiated a piercing sensation, strong enough to force Shuisa and Moreira to their knees without realizing it.

…

Meanwhile, on the outskirts of Forgenate, at the house of the merchant who had previously given him a ride, two antique-carved wooden chairs sat beside the entrance, brushed by the glow of streetlight. On the chair to the left sat a blue-eyed man, Zavi Actitus. On the right, a brown-eyed man, Ficius Newesto, the homeowner.

Ficius’s head turned sharply when he realized Zavi had suddenly appeared on his horse-drawn cart in the middle of the night, just as he was about to check his trading supplies for the next day.

“So, tell me what you experienced,” he said while wiping sweat from his brow. “Is it possible you left something behind?” he asked, making sure.

Zavi remained silent, letting the question hang in the air. He tried to recall what had actually happened, and how he had ended up back on that horse cart.

“I’m sorry, sir,” he finally said with a forced smile. “I hit my head a little. I don’t remember it clearly.”

I swear. Even I don’t know what happened. It felt like waking up from a feverish dream, something he often experienced as a child. The dream world always felt slow, moving his fingers was difficult, and after waking up his knees would always feel weak. Zavi tried to remember. He knew he had ordered his artificial cat to enter the plaza road, but after that, nothing.

Ficius touched his chin, gave a small nod, then let out a short sigh. “Did you just have a dream?”

Zavi stiffened. His hand hovered briefly as he was about to reach for a cup of tea to his left. “Ahahaha. You’re joking, sir.”

“Actually, I’ve experienced something similar before.” Ficius picked up a warm cup of tea to his right, blew on it gently, then took a sip.

“Really?” Zavi said it without realizing.

Ficius nodded lightly. He placed the cup back down, as if weighing something—an experience he had gone through a month ago.

But all of it was just a dream. It never happened in the real world. All the conversation over the past ten minutes was nothing but nonsense.

Or… was it really?

Wasn’t it strange someone being shot through the heart repeatedly, yet not dying. When he opened his eyes, all he saw was a vast stretch of trees and the sound of a rushing river. Zavi took the story seriously, thinking perhaps that was where the key to resolving his confusion lay.

He cleared his throat, then stood up. He lowered his face slightly before looking at Ficius. “Is that all, sir?”

Ficius took out a hand-rolled cigarette from his trouser pocket, placed it between his lips, and lit it. He exhaled the smoke slowly toward Zavi, who stood to his left.

“Is it possible you don’t believe me?” he said in a restrained tone. “That’s fine. I don’t want to remember it again either.”

After that, he stood up. The cigarette still hung from his lips, smoke curling lazily as his gaze lifted to the night sky—filled with shimmering stars and a crescent moon that made the night feel calmer than it should have been.

At that time, for some reason, my artificial cat seemed to be absorbed by something. It was followed by the rough scraping sound between shoes and the ground—and then everything else vanished, as if swallowed by the earth itself.

I didn’t understand. The district that was said to be destroyed turned out to still be standing intact. That statement made me think twice. Was there another meaning behind those words? Zavi let out a long breath, trying to calm his thoughts.

Then, while staying at that man’s house, he realized one thing—Moreira was no longer with him. This was strange. Very strange.

His brow furrowed. His lips twitched briefly when he saw Esvalen walking along the stone-paved road ahead.

“Huh? How does she know I’m here?” he muttered softly. The corner of his mouth lifted, a faint smile forming—the smile of someone who knew that woman was not a mere artificial human.

Ficius sensed the unfamiliar presence first. Footsteps that sounded neat, rhythmic, far too orderly for an ordinary person. The steps of someone trained.

He straightened his gaze. His fingers pressed together until they cracked like breaking bones. The cigarette was forced out from his lips, falling beneath his foot, then crushed until the ember died.

The muscles in his neck tensed. His breathing quickened. Both hands clenched tightly, veins bulging clearly. In his mind, that woman was not only a threat to himself—but also to Zavi.

“Stop right there! I don’t know what your motive is!” he shouted, his voice raised, loud enough to be a warning.

But Esvalen kept walking, as if the words had never existed.

Damn it. Is she looking down on me because I seem weak?

Anger burned in his chest like hot embers. His fists tightened harder, his jaw locking together with a grinding sound.

“Ah… take this—!”

Ficius ran toward her, then jumped. Both of his hands were raised high, hovering just above Esvalen’s head.

But before his fist reached its target—in the blink of an eye—Esvalen had already moved to Zavi's side. The punch hit the stone courtyard of his house with a loud thud.

"Ahhhh... damn, that hurts...!" Ficius shouted, cursing and grimacing, including at the stones of the terrace that welcomed his fist mercilessly.

Zavi's eyes were locked on the scene. Then he spoke without turning his head even slightly.

"Did you know he can disappear?" he muttered softly. "A third-level evil spirit."

A crooked smile appeared on his face.

Esvalen clicked his tongue. "Damn. So you already knew?" he said coldly. "In that case, I won't let you."

"Let me... why?" Zavi turned slowly. His eyebrows furrowed and his gaze locked onto Esvalen.

Print.

Esvalen snapped his fingers. His left eye closed, his face filled with anger. Instantly, something like a gentle wind pierced Zavi's shoulder. Cold, piercing, then creeping in. His body felt heavy. Something slipped through his pores, crept inside, and pierced his bones repeatedly.

"H-hey... what's d-happening to my body...?" his voice was hoarse.

Zavi's vision blurred as he watched Esvalen walk away, leaving him behind.

As soon as she was away from him, the feeling disappeared as if it had never happened to him. He was confused, standing there shaking his coat and trousers, his gaze fixed on the yard.

For a moment, Zavi got goosebumps, his hair standing on end, finding Esvalen disappearing in the blink of an eye.

"Huh. Damn evil spirit," he muttered irritably. "I don't know what you're talking about, and besides, I don't know where Moreira is right now."

Come to think of it, what kind of movement was that earlier? My eyes couldn't see it clearly, as if the movement ignored time itself... Zavi decided to step forward, approaching Ficius who was lying on the ground, grimacing in pain from a scratch on his finger.

Zavi reached out his hand. "Are you alright?" he said softly. "Why did you act so recklessly? Don't tell me you're dreaming?"

"I don't know," he replied, tears beginning to flow down his cheeks. "That woman... She did all this."

"Woman, you say?" Zavi muttered, pretending not to know.

Ficius nodded, then stood up, clutching his shirt to hide his disappointment. After that, he held both of his shoulders, then excused himself to go inside the house to calm his thoughts.

Was he always like this? Zavi turned around, watching Ficius' back as he picked up two cups from the table and took them inside the house.

"Thank you, sir, for enlightening me," he muttered softly. "So... the cat I made earlier saved my life?" Zavi smiled, not knowing how to respond.