With the thick fog as cover, Delber boldly walked into No. 1 Guta Street. As a subordinate of that lord, he knew just how terrifying this fog was. It didn't just obscure visibility; if that lord wished, the fog could freeze anyone within it to death.
The extinguishing of the flames just now indicated that the lord was serious.
This was good news for him.
At least, it would make it easier to take out that guy.
A fully capable sharpshooter is formidable.
But a sharpshooter frozen stiff is just a sitting duck!
Creak!
A sharp noise rang out, the kind that only occurred when someone ran across a dilapidated wooden floor.
"Second floor!"
After locking onto his target, Delber sneered inwardly and, using the fog as cover, slowly made his way to the second floor.
Then, he fixed his gaze on a room in the corner of the second floor—unlike the other rooms, this one had its door closed, while all the others were wide open, offering a clear view.
"Panicked, I see."
Delber ridiculed internally, then strode toward that room.
It wasn't that Delber was careless; since becoming a subordinate of that lord, he had encountered similar opponents more than once. They were people who thought they were good with a gun or skilled in combat, but when faced with supernatural power for the first time, they always panicked.
And then?
They were easily dealt with by them!
This Goethe before him wouldn't be the first!
And certainly not the last!
"This is the power of the supernatural!"
With an overwhelming sense of superiority, Delber stepped lightly to the side of the door.
He didn't stand directly in front of the door, nor did he open it. Instead, he positioned himself to the side and began pulling the trigger repeatedly through the door.
Bang, bang bang!
The bullets pierced through the wooden door.
Through the bullet holes, Delber could even see sparks flying as the bullets struck objects inside the room.
Delber didn't stop until the bullets in the chamber were all spent. Then, he pulled out another revolver and stepped in front of the door.
He was ready for another round of shooting.
But just at that moment—
Boom!
With a massive explosion, the door was blown off its hinges and slammed into Delber.
Crack, crack.
Amidst the tremendous force that shattered bones, Delber was sent tumbling down from the second floor.
"Cough, cough."
Coughing up a large amount of blood, Delber, with several broken ribs, struggled to lift his head and look at the room on the second floor.
He wanted to know what had just happened.
Was it a bomb?
Or something else?
But when Delber finally saw inside the room, he was dumbfounded.
Because it was...
A bathroom!
Even though it was now a wreck, Delber could confirm it was a bathroom.
And almost instantly, Delber recalled a news story from two days ago: a tenant had gone to the bathroom at night, lit a candle, and suddenly there was an explosion that killed them.
He had laughed heartily at the time, thinking how foolish the person was for not ventilating properly.
But now that he was the one in that situation, Delber couldn't laugh anymore.
Especially with a gun aimed at him.
"Wait, I…"
Bang!
Before Delber could finish speaking, Goethe pulled the trigger.
Delber was shot in the forehead, his eyes wide open in death.
Having done this, Goethe seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. He stood there panting, as if the recent actions had drained him of great energy. He didn't even notice the knife suddenly emerging from the fog behind him.
The blade, concealed by the fog, was without any gleam and completely silent.
When it was almost touching Goethe's back, it struck with sudden force.
Clang!
A metallic clashing sound rang out, leaving Goethe unharmed.
Moreover, he swiftly turned around, flinging his hand back.
Suddenly, a cloud of white mist appeared.
It was...
Flour.
In the gray fog, a figure became visible as it was coated. The person clearly hadn't expected their sure-fire strike to go awry, staring at Goethe in shock.
Then, with an itch in their nose and a sting in their eyes...
Achoo!
A loud sneeze sent the figure lurching forward.
It was pepper!
There was pepper mixed in with the flour!
Of course, that wasn't the main point. The main point was that Goethe had already picked up the revolver that Delber had dropped.
Bang, bang bang!
The figure in the fog tried to dodge, but with only seven paces between them, there was no time.
Several bursts of blood erupted from the figure's body.
Then, they collapsed to the ground.
As the figure fell, the fog immediately dissipated.
But Goethe didn't advance right away; instead, he fired three more shots into the fallen person's chest and forehead.
Only after doing this did Goethe dare to approach.
When facing the unknown, one can never be too cautious.
So Goethe didn't touch the body directly but used a piece of broken door panel lying on the ground to prod it.
The piece of wood wasn't very handy.
But it was long enough.
This allowed Goethe to maintain a safe distance from the body.
Throughout this process, Goethe's other hand was always holding the gun, ready to fire at the slightest sign of trouble.
The man had an ordinary face, common clothes, and wasn't physically strong. His fingers were smooth, without any calluses—a person so ordinary that he wouldn't stand out in a crowd.
"Could someone like this really use that kind of supernatural power?"
Doubt arose in Goethe's heart.
And just then—
"No need to doubt."
"The one who used the 'Mist Concealment' power was indeed him."
"However…"
"He was just an apprentice."
A voice came from the doorway.
Goethe immediately raised the revolver in his hand.
At the entrance of No. 1 Guta Street stood a man dressed in a black tailcoat over a white shirt. Faced with Goethe's gun, the man straightened his overlapping lapels and then, with great formality, removed his hat and gave a polite bow.
"Good evening, Mr. Goethe, I am Moray."
"I am, so to speak, the person who handles matters like this in Luster."
"And also…"
"Nice armor."
The man introduced himself while complimenting Goethe.
Exposed, Goethe no longer pretended. He took off his coat.
Underneath, two frying pans were strapped to his chest and back for protection.
Holding the coat in one hand, Goethe lowered the gun.
It wasn't that Goethe believed the man outright; it was that he saw Swart, the police chief, running up from behind the man, grinning obsequiously.
The chief was hunched over, smiling like a blooming flower.
Even though the stain on his crotch was still visible.
Noticing Goethe's gaze, the chief, unfazed, explained, "Just now, while avoiding the attack, I rolled into a puddle and accidentally got wet."
Goethe smiled, not believing him at all.
He knew the man's awkwardness all too well.
But at that moment, his eyes returned to the man who called himself Moray.
Under Goethe's gaze, Moray reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a pocket watch. After glancing at it and frowning, he paused for about two seconds before speaking.
"There's still a little time, enough for us to discuss a few things... Are you aware of your current situation?"
Then, without waiting for Goethe to answer, Moray quickly began to speak as if he were in a hurry.
"Your situation is rather complicated. Under normal procedures, your memory of tonight would be erased—of course, memory-erasing techniques are not without side effects. In the coming years or even longer, you might face issues such as insomnia, loss of appetite, memory decline, depression, and mental confusion, but you would still be alive."
"But you killed that guy's apprentice, which means you're bound to face his revenge!"
"Conveniently, I need to capture that guy, but he's as elusive as a rat in the gutter—cunning, vicious, and adept at hiding."
"So…"
"I need bait!"
"Bait as excellent as you!"
(End of Chapter)