Moving through the alleys, Faust thought to himself:
This city truly is grand in size… it's not called 'Grand' for nothing, I guess. Though it feels strangely empty. Besides the people in the streets and those armored figures… soldiers, I suppose, there are far more houses here than signs of life… it's weird, to say the least.
After a few more minutes of quiet movement, he began to hear a commotion. Drawn by the noise, he crept to the edge of the alley and peeked around the corner. A large crowd had gathered in front of a dark sandstone statue of a woman.
Her long hair was sculpted to cover her intimate parts, and from her deeply carved eyes, streams of water trickled down like tears, falling into a small pond below her. The pond was encircled by a low sandstone wall that held the water in—just like a fountain.
At the sight of her, a word slipped unconsciously from Faust's lips in a low murmur, barely audible even to himself.
"The Goddess of Oceans and Water…"
As he heard himself, memories not his own stirred. The Old Rat Prince had seen this statue, and had felt joy at the sight—apparently for no clear reason. This only reinforced Faust's theory that some memories had been deliberately left out.
Faust also found it puzzling.
What caught his attention further was that the statue was heavily guarded. Citizens were trying to get close, but bucket-helmed soldiers kept them at bay. The crowd was growing restless, shouting and pushing.
One man, desperate or bold, reached out with trembling fingers, trying to touch the statue. A faint smile touched his face—only to be erased in a heartbeat.
A dark blur flashed past. The man's torso exploded in a spray of flesh and blood, his body torn apart mid-motion. Screams followed as people turned to flee, slipping on the blood-soaked ground.
The executioner was a hulking soldier wielding a three-headed flail. With brutal swings, he mowed down three more natives. His strength was terrifying.
Faust's eyes narrowed, not at the brute, but at a pale man standing behind the statue.
He was smaller, dressed in simple clothes with a worn circular hat on his head. He carried no visible weapons, no armor. Yet the soldiers obeyed him, including the flail-wielding monster. He barked commands in the same strange tongue as the others, but Faust managed to catch one repeated phrase:
"Trikki inda! Trikki inda!"
Faust didn't know what it meant, but the urgency in the man's voice was clear. And so was his authority.
But then—
From among the crowd, a duo of youths stood in stark contrast to the feeble mob.
One of them, a male, no older than sixteen. His skin was pale, his hair jet black, and his eyes dark as well. He looked somewhat similar to Faust in base appearance, but at this moment, they couldn't be more different.
Faust looked like a slave, his body scarred, his disheveled hair covering dark crimson eyes, and his hands marred with patches of skin and no nails. Normally, he was a little above average in appearance, but in his current state, he looked like a monster.
In contrast, this young man was beautiful. His hair was well cut, and he wore noble-like armor with shining iron plates and carried a white metal sword that glowed with sharpness.
Yet that was not all. Just a few steps behind him stood another person, a young woman, maybe slightly older than the warrior before her.
She was beautiful as well. Her hair was dirty blonde and her skin a healthy tan, her eyes were beautiful and deep black. She wore a long, layered robe that covered most of her body, though her strong curves were still noticeable. In one of her hands, she held a grimoire, its pages flipping almost seamlessly.
The duo confronted the guards carrying out the massacre. The young warrior stepped forward and shouted, raising his sword as a blue aura surrounded his body.
Aura?!
Faust almost said it aloud, visibly surprised that someone his age could use aura, something that, in his memories, only experienced warriors could wield… or the truly talented.
He didn't even know the basics of aura; even the old man hadn't managed to use it before his death. Yet here stood someone so young who could. Talent really was something extraordinary… at least for those who had it.
"Please, stop this massacre! You are all one of a kind, why must you kill your own kin just to satisfy your maddened king? Join us, and let's bring him down together!"
Faust nearly giggled at the sight, thinking, Are you stupid? They speak another language, you dumb worm.
But as he continued watching, expecting the youth to be attacked at any moment, he was surprised when the flailing brutes halted. The native in the hat stepped forward, screaming:
"Ili malla! In trikki ili! Trikki! Trikki!"
What?! Did he actually understand that? How… do they understand our language?
Before Faust could be even more surprised, the warrior youth sighed and said,
"Alright, if you want to do it that way, then let's do it!"
Wait… does he understand them too? Hehehe… that's actually kinda impressive.
Although he could tell at a glance that he was weaker than both of them, he didn't feel disheartened. Once someone wasn't absolute, they were no more than worms, just like him… though perhaps on a slightly higher step of the staircase to absoluteness.
In the next moment, the girl flipped rapidly through the pages of her grimoire as she conjured two floating drills beside her head. One was bright golden, gleaming with perfection. The other, dark purple, radiated a deathly energy.
Instantly, Faust identified both elements. At that point, he couldn't hold himself back anymore and gasped,
"Holy and dark mana?! How?"
His surprise was valid. According to the memories of the Old Rat Prince, if someone was talented with either dark or holy mana, they shouldn't be able to use the other. But just now, that girl had broken that rule.
The sound he made was almost nonexistent, yet the young warrior threw a glance in Faust's direction. Instantly, Faust pulled back, pressing his back against the wall of the house.
Shit! I was seen.
Carefully, he inched forward again, just enough to peek around the corner. Only his eye and a sliver of his face were visible as he observed in silence, hoping he hadn't drawn too much attention.
Then, the young swordsman dashed forward and, in a flash, sliced through a brute's armor with a horizontal swing, cutting him down instantly.
Seeing this, the commander screamed, and more guards began rushing in.
The mage thrust her hands forward, and the golden and ebony drills shot out, tearing through the guards like paper. At the same time, she conjured mana barriers to protect the fleeing natives.
Taking advantage of the chaos, the young warrior tore through more soldiers. But even more kept arriving—in moments, over a hundred had gathered, as if they'd been waiting.
Watching the battle unfold, Faust remained still. He observed, but inside, he felt a hint of regret.
Shame… If those people weren't here, I could use this as an opportunity. But if I attract too much attention, it won't be good… I was already seen just now… it's better to leave.
He knew he couldn't survive a direct confrontation. He probably wouldn't even survive the aftermath of the fight between the duo and the guards.
From what he'd just seen, both the brutes and the duo could easily kill a Slasher—a monster he had struggled with. That meant they could kill him too, without much effort.
And he wasn't stupid. Picking a fight with the city's enforcers or with such a powerful pair just to scavenge a few rats or grab some items? It wasn't worth it.
Since he couldn't do much by simply watching and had already been noticed, he decided to leave the area and continue toward the place where the Old Rat Prince had once found the key. Maybe he could learn something more about it.
But he wanted to be quick. If he could arrive after the fight, while the area was lightly guarded, he might have a chance to get a few corpses for a consume ritual.
Eventually, the sounds of dying guards, screaming natives, and clashing metal faded behind him until he could hear nothing at all.
Finally, he reached the area, expecting to find a somewhat ruined temple like in the Old Rat Prince's memories… the temple was there, but it wasn't ruined.
It stood tall, over five meters high, built from dark sandstone bricks. Six windows lined each of its sides, allowing the scarlet moonlight to shine through into its interior.
A massive door made of rustic, darkened wood sealed the entrance.
Faust was clearly confused by this, but quickly composed himself.
Interesting…
Before entering, he triple-checked his surroundings to be sure he wasn't being followed.
Once confident, he stepped forward and, with great effort, pushed the towering doors open just enough to slip inside.