The Slums of Lungmen weren't under official jurisdiction, and naturally didn't have anything like a registration system.
That meant not only oppressed Infected but also criminals, smugglers, and mafia types all loved slipping into the Slums.
Lungmen was a major commercial hub with merchants and officials from all over the world coming and going. Its population turnover was far higher than most Mobile Cities.
So even though the Lungmen Guard Department enforced strict entry checks, there was always someone clever enough to slip past.
Just like those arms dealers Lucian handled the other day—if there's demand, a market appears.
Lungmen had countless ways to help outsiders with Smuggling. It had been a mature industry for a long time.
Penguin Logistics offered that service too.
Who said a live person couldn't count as cargo? That still technically fell within a logistics company's job description.
Of course, people who entered this way usually could only survive in the Slums.
Unless necessary, the Lungmen Guard Department never interfered with Slums affairs.
In turn, the Slums had their own checks and balances. Most trouble never spilled into the city proper.
This unwritten agreement was what let the Slums, this gray territory, exist for decades. Anyone who understood the rules wouldn't break them.
But rules existed only for people who understood them. Once the numbers grew, someone was bound to not understand.
Which brought us to Lucian's current situation.
Inside a narrow Alley built from illegal extensions—barely enough room for one person to squeeze through—two people were now pressed tightly face-to-face.
From the tips of their noses to their toes, their bodies were practically glued together. Anyone passing by would've thought they were a couple making out.
But there was no heat between them. Just killing intent.
A dagger was pressed against Lucian's neck, only 0.01 centimeters from his throat.
Yet in less than fifteen minutes, the dagger's wielder was about to become Lucian's new girlfriend.
Lucian had one arm around the woman's waist, with the muzzle of his gun pressed right against her.
He smiled pleasantly. "A guy and a girl shouldn't be this close, miss. If you don't want your spine blown out and spend the rest of your life in a wheelchair needing someone to wipe your butt, I recommend putting that blade down."
She cursed in Ursus.
The red-haired woman's expression was ice-cold beneath her hood. She wasn't intimidated at all. "Before you pull that trigger, I'll give you a free amputation. Everything below the neck."
Lucian replied, "Sounds like you don't know how fast a Sankta's gun is."
Red-hair shot back, "Then you don't know how fast a Lupo's dagger is."
Lucian nodded immediately. "Actually, I do."
Her killing intent flared even sharper. As a Lupo like Texas, the red-haired woman's tail bristled straight up.
To understand how they ended up in this position, we'll have to start from the top.
After hearing from Xiaoling that several kids hadn't shown up at the Great Courtyard, Lucian decided to investigate.
The Courtyard wasn't mandatory; if parents could care for their kids, that was even better. But something about this felt wrong.
Xiaoling's friend Misha was an Ursus girl who'd fled to Lungmen with her mother. Both were Infected.
The Ursus Empire's persecution of Infected was infamous worldwide.
Misha's father had died working in a forced labor mine.
The mother and daughter had clearly received help to escape and were deeply traumatized. When they first reached the Slums, her mother thought it was as cruel as Ursus and lashed out hysterically at everyone.
Misha, being a child, adapted more easily. Thanks to Xiaoling's invitation, she began coming to the Courtyard and even brought food home to her mother.
A mother still broken by trauma suddenly telling her child, "We can go home now"—that wasn't normal in any sense.
There were plenty of dangerous people in the Slums. Lucian had to make sure they hadn't been tricked by some MLM scheme.
"…Hm? Masked people?"
Arriving near the location Xiaoling gave him, Lucian spotted several figures wearing eerie White Masks.
The masks were bone-white, with only two round holes for eyes. Roughly made, unsettling—definitely not good people.
Lucian ducked behind a corner, sharpening his senses to eavesdrop.
Masked Person A: "[How many did you gather? Don't tell me that's all in the room.]"
Masked Person B: "[Crownslayer said we need to stay hidden. We can't do large-scale recruitment. We just brought in a few comrades who escaped from Ursus.]"
Masked A: "[Just these? They're mostly women and kids fresh from the mines. Are we supposed to make them fight?]"
Masked B: "[Nothing we can do. This is Talulah's order. Planting seeds is enough for now—just letting Infected gathering spots know we exist. Once the plan in Chernobog succeeds, Infected from all over the world will join us! It's a good thing!]"
Masked A: "[Good, sure… but they barely escaped Chernobog and now we're… Ugh, whatever. It's necessary, right?]"
…Chernobog.
Lucian's expression tightened, brows furrowing deeply.
Chernobog—the very city where the extremist organization Reunion Movement was currently causing chaos.
He hadn't met any of them before, but from their words and behavior, these masked people were clearly Reunion Movement members.
And their initiative was far more ambitious than he expected.
A terrorist group with this much vision—trying to spread their influence through every Infected community… they were preparing to set the whole world on fire.
But what exactly was the "Chernobog plan"? What kind of action could rally every Infected worldwide?
"Not simple at all, Reunion Movement."
For the first time, Lucian engraved the name of this extremist organization into his memory. He hid his presence and prepared to leave—
—and that was when he felt killing intent rush toward him.
A second ago he was certain no one was nearby. The next, a dagger stabbed from behind!
He didn't even have time to think. His body moved on instinct—his Halo flashed, and Light Wings burst forth.
A scarlet Floating Blade materialized, intercepting the dagger mid-strike.
The red-haired Lupo woman stiffened in shock. "Originium Weapon? Why is an Angel using blades?"
Lucian turned. "No one said Angels can only use guns."
He drove an elbow toward her face, Originium Arts flaring as a compact gun appeared in his other hand.
But this red-furred she-wolf wasn't someone to underestimate. Even in the cramped space, she immediately countered, engaging him in close combat!
She deflected his elbow and tried to stab his arm.
The floating red Originium blade beside Lucian reacted instantly, blocking her attack like it had its own will. She hissed in frustration.
Lucian didn't pull the trigger. One hand clamped her shoulder, the other wrapped around her waist—while the muzzle pressed against a vital point.
And so, the two of them were locked together, unable to move.
"You're not shooting?" the killer asked sharply, still filled with murderous intent. "I've heard Lungmen's unspoken rule—fights are fights, but no live ammunition. Even for me, a Terrorist, you're sticking to that?"
Lucian adjusted his aim. "If I have to, I'll shoot. But if something can be solved with blades, using a gun would be a waste."
At his thought, the scarlet Originium blade floating beside him glided into motion.
Made of Pure Originium, it moved with perfect precision under his Brainwaves, resting coldly against her neck.
Lucian continued, "You have the right to remain silent, but anything you say can be used as evidence in court. Figure out whose turf you're on, miss."