Chapter 191: The Dark Emperor
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 191: The Dark Emperor
Schulz jolted awake from a nightmare. He turned to look out the window; heavy, dark clouds shrouded the sky. Under the pitch-black night, this ancient and prosperous city seemed so peaceful.
His unhealed old wounds were still throbbing with pain. Even with a high-priced healing mage, the nature of the injuries he’d sustained that night—compounded by the side effects of the forbidden drugs—made it nearly impossible for them to knit back together in such a short time.
But compared to the physical agony, he was more concerned with the unease gnawing at his heart.
Inside the room, high-quality pine burned in the fireplace. The warm firelight dispelled the chill of the autumn night, and a faint incense drifted through the air, releasing a musk potent enough to calm an elephant in heat.
Yet, the restlessness in his heart refused to subside. Ever since that day—since the failure to seize the Ancient Dragon Heart Blood—it felt as if a sinister switch had been flipped. The entire Lower District was suddenly blanketed in an invisible shadow.
Something was about to happen.
As the most notorious "Hyena" of the Lower District, Schulz was incredibly sensitive to such things. He had used this sharp intuition to escape the clutches of death countless times before.
"Gulsen! Gulsen!"
"Boss."
His confidant’s voice sounded from outside the door.
"What are your orders?"
"Is there still no word from the people above?"
"...No. We’ve reached out unilaterally many times, but those letters have all vanished like stones dropped into the ocean."
"Dammit!"
Schulz cursed, his eyes turning terrifyingly dark.
"Those damned nobles... they really can't be trusted when it counts!"
To maintain his current status and secure enough support, the Hyena Gang spent more than half of its monthly income currying favor with those high-and-mighty aristocrats. Yet, at this critical juncture, he wasn't receiving the help he had been promised.
There wasn't even a response!
Have I been abandoned?
A flash of panic crossed Schulz's eyes.
No, that wasn't right.
As long as the Hyena Gang remained one of the largest factions in the Lower District, they wouldn't be discarded so easily. For those insatiable nobles, it would be far too costly to scrap everything and build up a new power from scratch.
They must just be delayed by something. Surely...
Calm down.
I must stay calm.
Regardless, he needed to rest. He hadn't closed his eyes in days. If this continued, his body might collapse before the actual crisis even arrived.
With a slightly trembling hand, Schulz pulled open the bedside drawer. From the collection of medicine bottles that nearly filled the space, he expertly pulled one out and shook out two small white tablets.
But before he could swallow them, he heard the voice of his confidant outside the door again:
"Boss, word came from the Rat King."
"Speak."
"He wants to meet with you."
"Now?" A flicker of bewilderment appeared in Schulz's eyes, and he instinctively glanced toward the window.
In the middle of the night? What is this, a lover's tryst?
"I'm not going!"
"But the messenger the Rat King sent said you must reconsider."
"Reconsider his grandmother's leg! I haven't even settled the score with him for what happened a few days ago!" Schulz slammed a fist against the wall. The precious gemstone ring on his finger instantly cracked, rendered worthless.
Though gang wars were common and wins and losses fluctuated, the memory of what happened a few days ago made his blood boil with a rage that felt like it would split his skull open.
He had never been so humiliated. If he hadn't crawled into the filth of the sewers back then, he—the great leader of the Hyena Gang—might have actually fallen at the hands of those incompetent fools in the Guard Corps!
He swore that if the Rat King appeared before him, he wouldn't be hitting a wall; he’d be smashing that ugly face!
And those other guys...
"But..."
The confidant outside sounded hesitant.
"The Rat King's messenger said that you aren't the only one he invited this time."
"Not just me?"
Schulz frowned, quickly catching on.
"He invited the other gang leaders too?"
"That's what the man said."
The confidant paused. "Judging by the fact that he didn't change his story even after I pulled out all ten of his fingernails, he's likely telling the truth."
"Inviting all the gang leaders of the Lower District at a time like this..."
Schulz instinctively tapped the edge of the bed, thinking to himself. Rat King, what kind of game are you playing? Don't tell me you've noticed something's wrong too?
"So, Boss, are we going?"
"Going? Of course we're going!"
Schulz’s eyes flashed as he made his decision.
He didn't know what the Rat King was up to, but since so many people had been invited, being left out of the loop would be fatal. A smart man never passes up an opportunity to gather intelligence.
"Gulsen, ready the carriage. We're going to see what the Rat King wants."
"Yes, sir."
The confidant’s presence faded from the door. Soon, the low thud of hooves echoed in the courtyard.
Schulz casually crushed the tablets in his hand into powder. He stood up to grab his cane from the corner of the table, but accidentally knocked over a water pitcher, dousing the flames in the fireplace.
Staring at the black smoke rising from the hearth, the sense of foreboding in his heart intensified. He kicked the table over, his aging face suddenly contorting into a snarl.
"I'll see for myself. I've dominated the Lower District for decades—let's see who actually has the guts to cross me!"
*
"I've done as you asked."
In the lonely night, Rat King Sam looked toward the pure black figure standing a short distance away.
The man stood on a narrow bridge, gazing out over the city. Though his face was hidden in the shadow of his hat, making his expression unreadable, Sam occasionally felt a jolt of heart-stopping terror whenever the man’s gaze shifted.
It was as if the person before him wasn't a gentleman in a formal suit, but a ferocious beast struggling to suppress an inner restlessness.
"Is that so?"
Muen suddenly turned around, habitually pressing down the brim of his hat, and offered a peaceful smile.
"Thank you for your hard work, Sam."
By dropping the "Mr." suffix, Muen’s words sounded like casual banter between friends.
Sam remained unresponsive, his face stiff as he spoke:
"As we agreed, I am only responsible for calling those guys here and providing the venue. Anything else has nothing to do with the Rat Society."
"No, there is one more thing I need from you."
"Are you breaking our deal?"
A chill flashed in Sam's eyes. Even if this man was unfathomable, the Rat Society wasn't something to be—
"Of course not."
Muen clapped Sam firmly on the shoulder and said sincerely:
"An audience, my friend. An audience. How could such an important occasion be missing a spectator like you? Stay and watch this grand play with me, my friend."
"..."
Sam fell silent for a moment. "I want to know... what exactly are you planning to do?"
"What am I doing?"
Muen blinked and said:
"Bringing salvation to you lost little lambs, of course. Don't you know? You're all about to be finished."
"Liar."
Sam continued to stare coldly at Muen.
"I don't believe for a second that you're that kind-hearted. You definitely have another motive."
"Sigh, good people are always so easily misunderstood."
Muen shook his head with a sigh and began walking toward an inconspicuous building hidden deep in the shadows.
In the deserted streets, several gazes from different origins intertwined, clashing with a palpable killing intent.
Muen, however, acted as if he felt nothing, strolling leisurely into the peril-filled shadows.
Sam’s cheek twitched. After a moment of hesitation, he ultimately followed the man.
The path was clear all the way to the door. But just before the entrance, Muen suddenly stopped.
"What is it?" Sam asked, tilting his head.
"I'm still... not quite used to it," Muen muttered, looking down at his hands.
"Not used to it?"
Sam looked suspicious, wondering what kind of madness this lunatic was indulging in now.
"Still, even if I'm not used to this pretentious version of myself, isn't there an old saying?
'Making people's legs go weak with a single glance is an essential quality of a blonde villain.'
So, I have to try my best, don't I? There are people waiting for me."
Muen gave a self-deprecating laugh, adjusted his hat once more, and pushed the door open, stepping onto the pre-arranged stage.
He left Rat King Sam standing behind him, utterly bewildered.
What 'blonde'? Isn't your hair white?
And what kind of 'essential quality' is making people's legs go weak with a glance?! Is that really an old saying?
Why does it sound like something incredibly shady?!
*
Leknos Underground Bar.
As an obscure, ordinary dive bar in the Lower District, it lacked the hot strippers, pulse-pounding music, and readily available forbidden drugs found in the famous dens of debauchery.
In fact, for a bar, it was far too quiet.
Terrifyingly quiet.
Muen stepped inside. The first things he saw were the wisps of white smoke rising in the dim light, and behind those clouds, a collection of grim faces.
Schulz of the Hyena Gang.
Cilock and Dolan of the Brotherhood.
Frangi of the Three-Headed Dog.
The Taikor brothers of the Trading House.
...
Face after face matched the intelligence An had provided. Within this small bar, most of the leaders and power-players of the Lower District's major gangs had gathered.
"It seems that without their leashes, these house dogs are all feeling rather anxious," Muen noted with a mocking smile.
In this moment, he perhaps had to thank the Silent Moon for the chaos they were stirring up in the shadows. If they hadn't forced the nobles to accept the Imperial Palace's summons—leaving these house dogs without their masters—he likely wouldn't have been able to gather all these figures here so quickly, even with the Rat King's influence.
But now that the actors had arrived, it was time for his part.
"Gentlemen, allow me to introduce myself. I am—"
Smash!
A crisp sound interrupted Muen’s opening line.
It was incredibly sudden.
He held his hat, his head tilting as his gaze followed the wine bottle that had just grazed his cheek.
The bottle had shattered, spraying crimson liquid everywhere like blood.
But that didn't change the fact that the bottle had been aimed directly at his head.
This was...
Muen raised an eyebrow slightly and turned back to look at the man who had thrown the bottle.
"Schulz of the Hyena Gang..."
"What the hell are you..."
Staring at this unknown person who had appeared out of nowhere, Schulz felt the rage in his mind becoming impossible to suppress.
"Tell the Rat King to get his ass out here!"
"The Rat King..."
Muen glanced toward the shadows on the side, where the Rat King was happily watching the show with no intention of revealing himself. Muen looked back at Schulz and offered an elegant smile.
"Mr. Schulz, the one who invited you tonight wasn't the Rat King, but—"
Smash.
A second bottle was thrown.
This time, Schulz was smart enough not to aim for Muen’s head. Instead, he let the bottle explode at Muen’s feet.
Wine and glass shards sprayed upward, splashing against the pure black formal suit and leaving clear stains.
Muen didn't dodge. He looked down at the marks on his suit for a long time, saying nothing.
"Cut the crap! Tell the Rat King to come out himself, now! I have no interest in talking to you!"
Schulz continued to roar, his eyes bloodshot.
In reality, Schulz wasn't usually such a volatile man. The image he always tried to project was that of a polite, elderly gentleman.
But the throbbing headache from days of insomnia, combined with the mounting unease in his heart, made it nearly impossible to control his emotions.
Moreover, he had finally found the source of his unease.
From the moment he stepped into this bar and saw the same deep-seated anxiety in the eyes of the others, he understood the Rat King's plan.
Huddling for warmth.
Right now, it wasn't just him; it seemed the gangs of the entire Lower District had been abandoned by those above.
This was a terrifying signal, proof that a storm was coming.
And when facing a storm, the best option was to band together. Although the gangs of the Lower District had never been unified, it wasn't impossible for such an unprecedented event to occur when faced with an unknown threat that no one knew how to handle.
However, banding together meant there would be a true leader.
A "Dark Emperor" who would truly rule the Lower District and all their gangs.
The reason the Rat King had suddenly gathered them tonight was obvious!
He wanted to be that Dark Emperor...
He even thought he had a good chance of succeeding, sending out some nameless brat to try and intimidate them!
But how could that be possible?!
Given the grudge between them, if the Rat King became the ruler of the Lower District, Schulz knew he wouldn't have a happy ending!
Therefore, no matter what, he had to disrupt the Rat King's plan and force him to show his face!
"Haha, the Hyena is going crazy again."
Someone mocked from behind.
Schulz only gave a cold smirk.
A bunch of idiots.
The blade is already at your throats and you don't even realize it.
At this rate, you probably won't live much longer either!
Thinking of this, a spark of heat appeared in Schulz's eyes.
As expected, his intuition was dead on. As long as he eliminated the source of this unease—the Rat King—it wasn't impossible for him to become that so-called Dark Emperor...
"My name is Bruce Wayne."
"Huh?"
Schulz looked confusedly at the stranger the Rat King had pushed forward.
The man finally raised his head, wiping the wine from his cheek with a handkerchief. With a peaceful, elegant smile, he continued his polite introduction:
"Bruce Wayne, Mr. Schulz."
"I don't give a damn what your name is! Get the Rat King out here now!"
Where did this greenhorn come from?
No wonder the Rat King pushed him out.
In that case...
A trace of impatience surfaced in Schulz's eyes as he silently gripped his weapon...
"What a pity."
But then, he heard the man calling himself Bruce let out a regretful sigh.
It was so full of pity, as if he were lamenting the wilting of a flower, the falling of a leaf, or the passing of a life.
In an instant.
The unease in Schulz's heart expanded like never before, like a balloon being blown to its limit, pressing against his throbbing nerves.
I'm going to die!
I'm going to die!
I'm going to die!
What's happening?
The source of the danger... isn't the Rat King?
Before he could think further, he heard the second half of the man's sentence:
"Tonight is so beautiful, yet Mr. Schulz, you show me no respect at all. You won't even call me Mr. Bruce Wayne."
Amidst confusion, terror, and incomprehension, Schulz opened his mouth to say something.
But he could no longer speak.
The world suddenly began to spin. Amidst the fading unease and rage, he saw the ceiling with its dim lights, the horrified and incredulous gazes of the others, and... a headless corpse.
His own corpse.
His head rolled across the floor, staring blankly at everyone, the remnants of that smug smirk still on his lips.
Schulz of the Hyena Gang, who had been awake for three days and two nights, finally entered his eternal sleep.
*
"Madman! Madman! Madman! He's a total fucking madman!"
In the darkness, Rat King Sam, who had witnessed the entire scene, hissed in disbelief.
What had he just seen?
That guy had just—so casually, so effortlessly—beheaded Schulz right in front of everyone?
Who did he think that was?
Even if Schulz was annoying, the Hyena Gang was still one of the major powers in the Lower District.
Did he want to start a war?
And after all the trouble of gathering everyone here, how was he going to clean this up? Schulz hadn't come alone!
Just as he was thinking this, Sam saw Muen suddenly glance toward him with a strange smile.
"Sam, my dear friend, I'll leave those Hyena Gang members outside to you."
"What... wait!"
Sam immediately felt a surge of dread because the man's voice was significantly louder than usual, making it clearly audible to those outside the room.
Sam's shout came too late. The sound of arrows piercing the air suddenly erupted.
The Rat Society elites Sam had stationed outside for his own protection didn't hesitate to pull their triggers against the Hyena Gang members upon hearing Muen's deliberate words.
"Rat King, you—!"
Outside the door, Schulz's confidant let out a roar of fury, but that roar quickly turned into a wail.
Screams followed one after another.
Then, they quickly subsided.
Everything returned to silence.
As Sam realized what "being an audience" truly meant, he trembled with rage. Blood began to seep under the door and into the room.
Like an invisible blade, it stung the eyes of everyone present.
Under this incomprehensible turn of events, a suffocating silence blanketed the bar.
But the silence was soon broken.
As if he didn't care at all about what had happened outside, Muen looked up, his gaze sweeping across the stunned and horrified faces of the crowd. He smiled with satisfaction.
"Very good. Now, there should be no one left to interrupt me.
Since time is short, I'll get straight to the point of my visit."
In that moment, inside this obscure bar, the man calling himself Bruce spoke the words that would later become a legendary quote among the power-players of Belland's Lower District:
"Gentlemen, please be my dogs."