Night in Stormwatch was never truly dark, nor ever truly silent. The dim light from fish-oil lamps on every street corner cast long, dancing shadows, as if conspiring to hide the sins of its inhabitants.
Elian and Lunaria walked down a narrow alley toward The Rusty Anchor. Their footsteps echoed on cobblestones slick with moss and rainwater.
"The tail is still there," Elian whispered without turning his head. His lips barely moved. His Nature Sense, which usually tuned into the harmonious vibrations of the wild, was now forced to pick up the jarring intent of malice amidst the city's pollution. It felt like hearing nails screeching on a chalkboard.
"He's an amateur," Lunaria replied casually. She stopped abruptly in front of a foul-smelling garbage cart. "Keep walking to the inn, Eli. I'll... greet him for a moment."
Elian nodded obediently. He continued his pace, maintaining the slight hunch and shuffling gait—his perfect act of a weak boy.
The moment Elian disappeared around the corner, Lunaria turned. She looked up at the roof of a dark fish warehouse.
"Come out," she said.
Her voice wasn't loud, but it carried a pressure of Mana that froze the air in the alleyway.
No answer. Only the sound of the sea breeze rustling.
Lunaria scoffed. She snapped her fingers.
Zip!
A wind arrow—invisible to the naked eye—formed and shot upward.
"Waaah!"
A body tumbled from the roof, landing hard on a pile of rotting garbage. It was a skinny man in all-black clothing with a dagger at his waist. A low-class Rogue.
The man scrambled to get up, his eyes wide with terror as he looked at the woman in the grey cloak. He hadn't seen a bow, yet he felt death looming.
"Who sent you?" Lunaria asked coldly. She stepped forward, her boots stepping into a puddle of filth without creating a single splash.
"I-I... I was just passing by!" the man stammerder.
"Liar," Lunaria raised her hand. Weeds growing in the cracks of the alley walls suddenly elongated, wrapping around the man's neck and hoisting him into the air.
The man struggled, his feet kicking at empty space. His face turned blue.
"Black... Viper..." he wheezed. "Brutus... he wanted to know where the brat sleeps..."
Lunaria smiled thinly, a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Tell your master. If he touches my 'nephew', I will plant Parasite Ivy seeds in his stomach and let them grow out of his eyes."
The vines released their grip. The man fell, coughing violently.
"Go," Lunaria commanded.
The man didn't need to be told twice. He scrambled away, pants wet with urine.
Lunaria watched his retreating back. She had let him go on purpose. Elian needed practice. And trash like the Black Viper gang were the perfect whetstones to dull the hesitation in Elian's heart.
***
The next morning, Elian woke up in a foul mood.
The mattress at the inn was infested with bedbugs. Although his Body Tempering made his skin too hard for ordinary bugs to bite, the sensation of insects crawling on him was maddening.
"We need money," Lunaria said over breakfast (stale bread and watery soup that tasted like dishwater). "Hunting monsters in the forest yields no coins, only materials. We need liquid currency to buy equipment and information about your sister."
Elian's eyes lit up slightly at the mention of his sister. "Is there news?"
"Not yet. The information network in this city is controlled by Shadow Brokers. To access them, we need Gold Coins or reputation. Rank F isn't enough."
They returned to the Guild. The request board was plastered with papers.
"Here," Lunaria pointed to a tattered sheet at the bottom of the board.
[Rank F Mission: Pest Control]Location: The Dregs (Slum District), Underground Sewer Sector 4. Target: Giant Sew-Rats - 20 Heads. Reward: 50 Silver. Note: Beware of disease.
"Rats?" Elian raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "You want me to kill rats after I killed a Basilisk?"
"Don't be arrogant," Lunaria chided. "This isn't about how strong the monster is. It's about understanding the anatomy of a city. Sewers are the best secret highways in any human settlement. You must memorize the smell, the routes, and the currents. If one day we are chased by a battalion of knights, these gutters will save your life."
Elian sighed, realizing his teacher's logic was always irrefutable. He tore the mission paper off the board and took it to the reception desk.
Mara, the same receptionist, looked at Elian with pity. "Sector 4 Sewer? That's local gang territory. Be careful, Kid Eli. The rats aren't the only things down there that bite."
Elian just nodded slowly, maintaining his mute role.
***
The Slum District, or "The Dregs" as locals called it, was a sanitation nightmare.
The stench of human waste, rotting garbage, and death hung thick in the air, so dense it could be tasted. Rickety shacks made of rotting wood and rusted tin piled atop one another. Skinny children with bellies swollen from worms ran barefoot through black mud.
Elian walked behind Lunaria, his cloak pulled tight. His black eyes recorded everything. This poverty... was different from the simplicity of the forest. In the forest, animals died to eat. Here, humans died from being neglected by their own kind.
They found the entrance to the sewer—a large hole with bent iron bars.
"You go in alone," Lunaria said, crossing her arms. She stood on the stone bridge above the channel.
"What?" Elian looked up.
"The smell is too foul for my Elven nose," Lunaria reasoned, covering her nose with a silk handkerchief. "Besides, this is mental training. You are used to 'clean' nature. You must get used to fighting in 'filthy' places. Don't come back until you bring 20 rat tails as proof."
Elian snorted in annoyance, but he jumped down into the darkness of the culvert.
Splash.
His boots landed in murky water ankle-deep. The smell made his eyes water.
Elian lit a small light crystal (a cheap item bought at the market) and tied it to his waist. The dim light illuminated the mossy brick tunnel.
Skit... Skit...
Squeaking sounds echoed.
From the darkness, a pair of red eyes glowed. Then two pairs. Ten pairs.
Giant Sew-Rats. The size of adult dogs. Their fur was patchy and full of scabs, their long yellow teeth dripping with diseased saliva.
They saw Elian—fragrant fresh meat—and swarmed instantly.
"Disgusting," Elian muttered.
He drew his steel dagger in his left hand and the short sword in his right.
The fight was unbalanced.
Elian moved like a dance of death amidst the pool of filth. The rats were slow. Their attack patterns were primitive.
Slash!
One rat head decapitated.
Stab!
Another pierced through the heart.
Elian used no high-level techniques. He used efficiency. He didn't let a single drop of rat blood touch his face. His movements were minimalist, conserving energy.
In ten minutes, twenty rat carcasses were piled at his feet.
"Too easy," Elian whispered, feeling hollow. He began cutting off the rat tails as proof of completion.
However, as he put the last tail into his pouch, his Nature Sense screamed.
Not rats.
Humans.
Heavy footsteps splashing in water. Coming from the front and behind. He was surrounded in this narrow tunnel.
"Well, well, look what we found here," a familiar voice echoed in the tunnel.
From the darkness ahead, five men appeared carrying torches and crude weapons. In the center, with bandaged hands, stood Brutus. His face was swollen, his eyes full of vengeance.
And from behind Elian, three more men appeared, blocking the exit.
"Little lost rat," Brutus said, grinning to reveal yellow teeth. "Did you think you could humiliate me and just walk away?"
Elian stood straight. He didn't tremble. He wasn't afraid. Instead, he felt something cold creeping into his chest. The disgust he had felt toward the sewer rats, he now felt tenfold toward these humans.
"Move," Elian said. It was the first time he had spoken in front of them. His voice was soft, melodious, yet piercingly cold.
"Oh? The Mute can talk?" Brutus laughed, followed by his henchmen. "And he sounds like a girl! Are you sure you have a 'bird' in those pants, huh?"
"Boss, look at his face," one of Brutus's men licked his lips. "He's prettier than a high-class whore. It'd be a waste to kill him right away."
"True," Brutus nodded, dirty lust visible in his eyes. "We'll break his arms and legs first. Then take him to the base. I want to hear him scream."
They advanced. Eight against one. In a confined space. In filth.
Elian closed his eyes for a moment.
World... forgive me. I'm going to dirty this place with the blood of trash.
When Elian opened his eyes, his black pupils seemed to dilate, swallowing the whites of his eyes.
"Die."
Elian extinguished the light crystal at his waist.
Total darkness.
"Hey! Light the torches! Where is he?!" Brutus shouted in panic.
In the dark, Elian was king. His Nature Sense mapped the position of everyone through their heartbeats and breath flow. He didn't need light.
Whoosh.
Elian dashed. Not toward Brutus, but toward the three men behind him holding clubs and nets.
Crash!
Elian's short sword slashed the first man's neck. No scream, just the sound of blood gurgling into lungs.
"He's here! Argh!"
The second man felt a dagger sink into his thigh, then ripped sideways, severing the artery.
The third man swung his club blindly. Elian ducked; the club hit the brick wall, sparking fire. In that brief flash of light, the man saw Elian's face. The face of an angel of death smeared with rat blood.
Elian jumped, his knee smashing into the third man's chin, shattering his jaw, then drove his dagger into the crown of his skull.
Three men dead in five seconds.
"Don't panic! Backs to the wall! Attack forward!" roared Brutus, swinging his torch wildly.
The torchlight illuminated the tunnel again. Brutus saw his three men were already corpses floating in the murky water. The sewer water turned red.
And Elian stood in the middle of them, his sword dripping blood. There was not a speck of fear on his face. Only the blank stare of a butcher at work.
"You... you demon..." whispered one of Brutus's men, backing away in terror.
"Attack him! He's just a kid!" Brutus shouted, though his own hands were trembling.
The five of them charged together.
In a narrow space, numbers could be a weakness. They got in each other's way.
Elian threw a large rat carcass into the face of one attacker, blinding him momentarily. Then he slid over the dirty water, slicing another attacker's tendon.
Screams filled the sewer.
Brutus, driven by fear and rage, activated his Tier 2 Aura. His body glowed a dim orange. He slashed down with his greatsword.
CLANG!
Elian parried—not blocking, but deflecting—the attack with his short sword. Sparks flew. The vibration numbed Elian's hand, but his dragon bones held firm.
"You're slow," Elian whispered, already inside Brutus's range (In-fighting).
Brutus tried to punch with his bare hand, but Elian was faster.
Elian leaped, spinning his body in mid-air, and kicked Brutus in the face with the heel of his iron boot.
Crack! Brutus's nose broke.
Brutus stumbled back, falling into the filthy water. His protective aura flickered and died as his concentration shattered.
When he looked up, he saw the tip of Elian's sword right in front of his eyes.
His remaining men had already fled, abandoning their boss. The loyalty of thugs was paper-thin.
"Wait! Wait!" Brutus raised his hands, begging. His fierce face was gone, replaced by a pathetic mask of cowardice. "I-I have money! I'm a member of the Black Viper! If you kill me, my leader—"
Elian didn't let him finish.
"Your leader will be next," Elian said flatly.
Thud.
The sword pierced Brutus's throat.
The massive body convulsed, then went still. His eyes stared blankly at the mossy brick ceiling.
Elian stood there, surrounded by four human corpses and twenty rat carcasses. The smell of fresh blood mixed with the sewer stench created a nauseating aroma.
But Elian didn't vomit. Instead, he took a deep breath. His heart beat calmly.
He felt... clean.
Killing them felt like scrubbing away filth. No guilt. No pity. Just the certainty that the world was slightly better without them.
"Did you enjoy it?"
Lunaria's voice came from the ventilation grate in the sewer ceiling. She had watched it all.
Elian looked up, his blood-spattered face looking cold yet fragile in the dim light.
"No," Elian replied. He wiped his sword on Brutus's shirt. "I didn't enjoy it. But I didn't hate it either. It felt... like doing chores."
Elian began looting the bodies. Coins, weapons, rings. He took everything.
"Humans are dirtier than rats," Elian muttered as he took Brutus's heavy coin pouch. "At least rats don't smile before they bite."
When Elian emerged from the sewer an hour later, he had cleaned himself in a clearer stream of water. However, the smell of death seemed to cling to the skin of his soul.
He handed the rat tails to the Guild reception desk. Mara stared at Elian, who looked a bit pale (acting) and whose clothes were wet.
"You survived," Mara said, surprised. "I heard a commotion down there. The Black Viper gang..."
"Lots of rats," interrupted Lunaria, standing beside Elian, patting her student's shoulder. "Eli was terrified. He killed lots of rats. Maybe he hallucinated seeing other monsters."
Mara looked into Elian's eyes. Those black eyes were clear, innocent, and slightly watery.
"Alright," Mara sighed, handing over a pouch containing 50 silver. "Here's your payment. My advice... take a bath. You smell like carrion."
Elian took the coins. His hand didn't tremble.
That night, the name "Eli the Mute" began to be whispered in the underworld. Not as a hero, but as the strange boy who walked into a rat's nest and walked out alive while a group of thugs vanished without a trace in the same spot.
And in the inn room, Elian stared at his reflection in the cracked mirror. He saw the crack in the glass split his face in two. One side an angel, the other a murderer.
"One more step," he whispered to the reflection. "One more step toward hell."