Chapter 487: The Price

The blade swallowed and spat out sharpness.

Wood was not at all like the carefree, lecherous man he appeared to be on the outside. In truth, among the earliest batch of people who followed the Rat King, he was the most vicious and battle-hungry.

Under his blade, who knew how many wandering souls of the Lower District were lingering.

He originally thought that today, the souls beneath his blade would add another... maybe even an extremely weighty one. Yet at this moment, the blade had not even tasted blood before it was stopped.

It was pressed down—lightly, casually—by a long, wide hand, just like that. Stopped.

“Who?”

Wood’s expression changed drastically. He tried to wrench the blade free, but the weapon that had accompanied him for ten years now felt trapped like in an iron vice, completely refusing to obey.

With a fear that kept piling up, his gaze fell upon the figure who had appeared in front of him without him noticing.

It was a middle-aged man, his features deeply carved, bearing the prominent characteristics of a northern Slav. He wore a pure black formal suit, the hem of the coat shaped like jagged teeth, carrying both the wildness of a beast and the elegance of a gentleman.

The middle-aged man’s face was expressionless. There seemed to be a trace of mockery in his eyes as he quietly looked at Wood. He clearly did nothing, yet Wood felt a tide-like darkness devouring him.

“You... you’re that Bruce?”

Under terror, Wood finally couldn’t help trembling as he uttered the name that almost no one in the Lower District didn’t know at this point.

“Yes, it’s me.”

Muen revealed a faint smile and lightly tipped his top hat.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before. Didn’t expect you to know my name. Truly makes me flattered.”

“Heh... flattered? I’m the one who should be—”

After fear came despair.

Wood no longer knew what he could say. He had already begged for his life earlier, and any extra harsh words were now clearly nothing more than the flailing ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) of a clown.

He never expected that the carefully planned rebellion he’d finally worked up the courage to launch would not face the Rat King.

But instead the one who had disappeared for months — the rumored “Dark Emperor.”

The one who had once chopped off the Mediator’s head without hesitation, who beat down a crowd of gang leaders, who made all the Lower District gangs bow their heads in a single night, who caused the then-peak Crimson Fire Gang to completely collapse, becoming nothing more than a handful of dust from the past.

Vicious, cruel, merciless.

Rumor had it that the black suit was only his disguise; his true form was a ten-meter-tall monster with seven heads and eight arms.

Rumor had it that he loved drinking the blood of newborn infants, requiring at least ten newborns as sacrifices every day.

Rumor had it he had no interest in women; his only pleasure was toying with the lives of others...

Rumor had it...

“Hah... the you in rumors is so terrifying, but in reality, you’re nothing more than... just a person!”

Perhaps because despair pushed him into reckless defiance, Wood gathered up courage from god-knows-where and fiercely launched another attack on Muen.

All his strength was mobilized and condensed into his weapon. The high-priced combat skill he purchased from the black market burst forth, the brilliant blade auras surging again. Under this all-out assault, even the long blade in his hand couldn’t bear the overwhelming force and let out a cry on the verge of shattering.

However—

“Sigh, I originally thought you would be a bit smarter.”

Muen let out a sigh.

He bent his fingers, aiming toward the long blade.

“Fivefold.”

The faint murmur was drowned beneath the roaring thunder.

The entire building trembled slightly again.

It was clearly just a motion between his fingers, yet Wood felt as though a magic cannon had genuinely been aimed at him — firing at point-blank range.

In an instant, the world collapsed into endless shaking and blinding light.

The weapon in his hand didn’t even touch the corner of the other’s clothes before it shattered directly.

When Wood came back to his senses, all he could see was the gradually blurring sky stained with blood.

“Hah... turns out... you really are... still a monster.”

Who knew how many bones were broken in his body; Wood couldn’t even lift a hand. He curled his lips, revealing an expression that might have been crying or laughing.

“Sorry.”

Looking at the blood-soaked and miserable Wood—Muen, who hadn’t actually planned to hit so hard, scratched his cheek in embarrassment.

“To be honest, I really haven’t had many opportunities to fight normal people, so I may have been a bit heavy-handed. I’ll pay more attention next time.”

“...”

He was clearly losing blood rapidly, but Wood’s face still suddenly flushed scarlet.

Muen shifted his attention aside.

After Wood collapsed, those subordinates who were terrified but still had faint resistance in them finally lost all courage. They threw down their weapons and chose to surrender.

Very soon, the entire building was completely taken over by the Rat King’s men. Perhaps there were still a few survivors on the lower floors resisting out of ignorance, but they couldn’t stir up any real waves.

“Looks like it’s over.”

Muen whistled lightly.

“So, how long do you plan on slacking off, Sam?”

“Cough, cough cough... how am I slacking? I’m half dead over here, okay?”

The Rat King, who had been knocked flying earlier, clutched his chest with a miserable expression, staggering over.

This time he wasn’t pretending. After taking several of Wood’s full-power attacks, the magic armor protecting him was already at its limit, and the violent impact had left him with no small injuries.

“Although I know you wanted to see whether Wood had any last tricks, if you’d come any later, you might’ve lost a loyal subordinate like me and ended up with someone you don’t understand helping you run the Rats.”

“Seems you’re still full of energy.”

Muen jerked his chin toward Wood.

“He’s yours. Resolve it according to your rules.”

“Yes.”

The Rat King walked to Wood’s side, standing above him and looking down.

Seeing the utterly wretched Wood, the Rat King did not show ridicule, nor did he mock him. He simply asked with an expressionless face:

“Do you regret it, Wood?”

“Who knows.”

Wood opened his eyes, but whether those now-clouded pupils could still see the Rat King standing before him was hard to say.

“But what’s done is done—what can I do? Even if I beg again now, you won’t spare me, will you?”

“Another old friend is leaving me. Truly heartbreaking.”

“Hah, don’t say that nauseating crap. Hypocrite.”

“At the very least, I should say something nice before you die.”

The Rat King raised his crossbow, aiming at Wood’s brow.

“Well then, for you, everything ends here. Farewell, Wood.”

“Farewell my ass, you short bastard, I’ve long been sick of seeing you, hahaha—”

“...”

Muen leaned against the nearby railing, his whole body bathed in the faint chill of spring, silently watching the Rat King place his finger on the trigger.

Mm, it seemed the curtain was finally coming down.

Speaking of which, ever since that incident in the small town, he hadn’t really had a proper rest. He should take this chance to sleep well, otherwise for the date later...

“Ding ding ding ding—”

Suddenly, an urgent bell rang.

The Rat King’s finger froze mid-trigger. He turned his head toward something lying a short distance from Wood.

It was a voice-transmission stone.

It must have belonged to one of Wood’s subordinates, perhaps dropped in the earlier chaos and rolled to where the two of them stood.

And now, that voice-transmission stone was ringing.

“Ding ding ding ding—”

The crisp calling sound echoed across the rooftop covered in silence and death—unnervingly eerie.

As if a dangerous omen.

“Damn it, you ruined the whole atmosphere!”

The Rat King cursed and lifted his foot, ready to stomp the stone to pieces.

“Wait, Sam.”

But Muen suddenly stopped him.

“Answer it.”

“Eh? Why?”

“Answer.”

Muen stared at the voice-transmission stone, expression blank.

“At a time like this, any transmission to this place won’t be from some relative sending warm greetings, Sam.”

“...”

The Rat King froze, then as if remembering something, reacted sharply. He snatched up the stone and answered.

“Hello? Hello hello? Do you hear me?”

From the stone came a hoarse, low voice, like two pieces of iron scraping together.

Hearing that familiar voice, murderous light flashed in the Rat King’s eyes, but he quickly restrained it and respectfully glanced at Muen.

“I understand.”

Muen nodded and took the stone.

“Hello, this should be Mr. Old Ghost, right?”

“Seems the connection went through.”

On the other side, Old Ghost toyed with a voice-transmission stone while pouring himself a glass of fine wine, chuckling:

“The one answering isn’t Wood. He’s already lost, hasn’t he? Which means... you must be that... what’s his name... oh right, that arrogant brat who suppressed a few idiots and started calling himself the Dark Emperor?”

“In front of you, Mr. Old Ghost, I’m naturally just a brat. But the title ‘Dark Emperor,’ that chuunibyou nonsense? I’ve never called myself that.”

Muen replied politely:

“You may call me Mr. Bruce.”

“Mr.? Hahaha, quite bold of you.”

“Considering who you are, that’s already a very polite form of address. If I were being serious about status, you wouldn’t be qualified to call me ‘Mr.’ at all,” Muen said sincerely.

“Heh. You’ve got guts.”

Old Ghost sneered.

“Let’s hope this ‘Emperor His Majesty’—who has both strength and guts—remains just as calm in what comes next.”

“Oh?”

“No need to worry. I simply prepared a tiny little gift to celebrate your victory over that useless Wood.”

“A gift?”

“Yes, a gift.”

As his words fell, mutation erupted.

Wood, who had been lying on the ground in misery, life fading away, suddenly contorted his expression and screamed, as if suffering unbearable agony.

Crunch, crunch—

Every bone in his body creaked, as though some invisible force was rapidly dismantling every bone and every bit of flesh, then reassembling them into another form.

Wood’s body swelled visibly, black veins writhing under his skin like a swarm of snakes. His shrill scream turned into a beast-like roar, then into a pained whimper.

“Ah... this... this is... that drug?”

Wood’s ten fingers dug deep gouges into the floor, flesh mangled, but soon the exposed finger bones themselves twisted into savage claws.

“Old Ghost... you... you lied to me? The drug’s effect... wasn’t... wasn’t what you said...”

“I didn’t lie. Though Wood, you truly are an idiot.”

Hearing Wood’s wails, Old Ghost chuckled without concern:

“That drug indeed gave your strength a boost and gave you the courage to face the Rat King. But... anything you gain must be paid for, must it not?”

“Since you’ve already lost—then... let everything you have become the price you pay.”