Chapter 32: The Night Grows Deep—Let’s Indulge in Some Delightful Diversions (Midnight Request for Continued Reading)

Shoved out of the tavern, Keller stumbled and fell to the ground.

The burly man spat at him and cursed viciously, "Wandering around acting like a wild animal after a few drops of swill—don't you know whose territory this is?"

"Get lost!"

His cheeks flushed, whether from anger or drink, Keller shook his head and staggered to his feet. Only after the man disappeared back into the tavern did he spit on the ground. "Damned wretch. If I weren't forbidden from exposing myself... you'd be a dead man. Once I finish my assignment, I’ll make you kneel and beg me for mercy while you weep!"

The mission seemed of utmost importance to him, and the one who had issued it filled him with such profound dread that even in his drunken state, Keller dared not utter the specific details of his task.

After cursing a few more times to vent his frustration, Keller stumbled toward his office. It was a small agency he operated. Yes, he was an agent, or rather, a broker. His work was simple: he introduced people to jobs and took a commission. Business had been poor for years, barely enough to keep him fed, until a year ago, when someone approached him with a special job that finally turned his fortunes around.

At first, Keller had been terrified. After all, it was the supposedly horrific Black Beast ship. If he lured someone onto that vessel, what if they returned to skin him alive? But as the transactions increased and no one ever returned from the Black Beast, Keller’s anxious heart finally settled. Whenever he thought of that master's "promise," he felt a surge of excitement. The last unfortunate soul had been sent off; according to their agreement, he only needed to deliver three more to complete his objective.

Filled with pleasant visions of the future, Keller soon reached the door of his office. Faint light from a kerosene lamp shimmered through the cracks.

"Strange. Did I forget to turn off the light when I left?" he muttered. Not paying it much mind, he pulled his keys from his pocket.

With a click, the key turned in the lock, and the door creaked open. A gust of cold wind hit him, making him yawn.

"Damn weather, it’s getting colder by the day! Once I’m rich, I’ll move into a big house in the Inner Harbor. It’ll have warm wool blankets, honeyed white bread fit only for nobles, and plump maids..."

Keller grumbled as he closed the door behind him. Just then, a smiling voice rang out from the shadows.

"Mr. Keller, we meet again."

"It’s late. Let’s do something interesting."

The voice startled Keller, sobering him instantly. He whipped his head around, only to see a palm rapidly enlarging before his eyes.

"Bang!"

He was slammed against the door, his feet lifting a few centimeters off the floor. The fingers gripping his face felt like steel pliers, strangling the breath out of him.

"Mmph..."

Unable to speak, he could only whimper. Through the gaps between the fingers, he saw the face of a young man. The stranger looked at him with a smile, as if greeting an old friend. Keller’s pupils contracted in terror at the sight.

It was him?

Only a day had passed; of course, Keller wouldn't forget that face. But how was it possible? Had he escaped from the Black Beast? Had he come for revenge?

Overwhelmed by fear, Keller cast aside the master's orders and let out a beast-like roar. Coarse black hair sprouted from his skin, his body began to shrink, and a look of crazed, violent madness filled his eyes.

"Oh?"

Mowen exclaimed in surprise, casting a detection spell on Keller.

[Broker · Keller: Originally an ordinary person without spiritual power. Recently, his flesh and blood underwent an imperfect Rust-Element Mutation. He can trigger a burst of power when in danger, though his strength is inferior to that of a Black Iron-rank professional.]

"A pleasant surprise." Mowen’s eyes lit up. He had originally come just to settle a grudge—he wasn't one to hold onto resentment—but he hadn't expected the black-hearted broker to have undergone the same imperfect Rust-Element Mutation as the dock supervisor, Victor.

It was obvious that the two were connected, and this "Rust-Element Mutation" likely had something to do with the pollutants he was tasked to investigate.

Mowen released his grip and stepped back. If he had wanted to, he could have decapitated Keller while he was transforming. But he refrained, intending to use this opportunity to observe the "Rust-Element Mutation" closely.

Under his gaze, Keller rapidly changed from a short, fat man into a monster covered in black fur with withered, spindly limbs. It hunched over, its nose and mouth emitting heavy, ragged breaths that expelled visible white mist.

Seeing this, a thoughtful look crossed Mowen’s eyes. While both were imperfect mutations, Keller’s transformation differed from what he had seen of Victor. The most immediate difference was that Victor, if transformed, possessed the combat power of a Black Iron-rank professional, whereas Keller was weaker.

Perhaps it depended on the sequence of the mutation? The later the stage, the more perfected the mutation, and the stronger the individual?

And who was responsible for conducting these "Rust-Element Mutations"? Finding that person would likely pinpoint the location of the pollutant.

With this in mind, Mowen gestured lightly. "Evans, take him. Just don't kill him."

Evans, standing behind Mowen, did not speak. He drew his blade and lunged forward, his actions serving as his reply.

The flaming knight’s sword tore through the chest of the ferocious Keller, eliciting a shrill howl. Although he had been dispatched by Mowen in two strikes earlier, Evans—as a member of the Candle Keepers and a Black Iron-rank professional—was a genius among his peers. A mere black-furred monster, while capable of bullying commoners, was easily handled by someone of Evans's caliber.

Evans swung his blade, intending to sever the monster's limbs, but before he could, Keller—his chest seared by flames—rolled frantically on the ground. He abandoned all intent to attack, concerned only with extinguishing the fire. He seemed to possess a bone-deep fear of flames.

Mowen narrowed his eyes. He recalled something Lady Sophia had told him: those infected with Rust-Blight feared fire.

Rust-Blight, Rust-Induction... Could it be that this pollutant hidden in Falling Star Port originated from the Mein Duchy?

In the flames, Keller’s struggles grew weak. Spiritual candle flames were not something he could easily douse. Soon, the black fur receded, and he returned to his original form. Only his eyes remained vacant, his body reduced to skin and bone. Such was the price of mutation.

Mowen walked over and stood beside the black-hearted broker who had tried to ruin him. In this state, Keller was clearly unable to speak. Mowen drew his iron sword and, with a blank expression, plunged it into Keller’s heart, sending him to hell in one swift motion.

As for torture... Mowen considered himself a good young man with a conscience. If the other party was unjust, he could not be unrighteous in return.

"Go on then. In your next life, don't do such wicked things."

Mowen’s gaze was distant. The next step was simple: find the dock supervisor, Victor, and force him to reveal the mastermind behind it all.