Chapter 476: Dignity
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 476: Dignity
"What did you do?"
The Rat King stared fixedly at Old Ghost, his expression chillingly grim.
His finger gripped the trigger so hard his knuckles had turned white, yet he couldn't bring himself to pull it. It felt as if the mechanism were jammed.
But it wasn't some external force holding him back. It was something the Rat King recognized but refused to admit, something he didn't even dare to show: fear.
Even though ten years had passed, he was still terrified of this man.
"What did I do? I haven't done anything, of course. It’s just that even though I’ve been gone for a full decade, there are still some people willing to listen to a few words from an old man like me."
Old Ghost offered a composed smile.
The Rat King’s expression shifted, and he whipped his head around.
He had heard the sound of something hitting the water.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that neither Old Ghost nor the ever-smiling Gentleman Gro seemed inclined to make a move. Instead, he was the one standing there with a crossbow raised, looking like a clown provoked by a petty insult.
Realizing the crossbow was useless for the moment, the Rat King lowered it. He craned his neck, cautiously peering toward the source of the sound.
The weather was poor—no moonlight, no stars. But by the light of the ship’s lanterns, he could vaguely make out something floating on the river’s surface.
It was a corpse... no, several corpses.
Each one wore the uniform the Rat King knew all too well. They drifted face-down in the water, their stiffening hands still clutching the expensive, high-grade magic weapons he had issued them.
Members of the Rat Society.
His own subordinates.
These were the elite guards he had stationed around the perimeter—the very reason he had dared to board a stranger’s ship in the dead of night.
And now, the men he relied on had been dealt with in total silence.
"..."
The faint scent of blood filled his nostrils, pricking his nerves like needles. The Rat King’s hand clamped onto the window ledge, but he couldn't stop his palm from trembling again.
"Now that one of your crutches seems to have vanished, I suggest you try the other," Old Ghost said. At some point, he had sat down in a chair Gentleman Gro had thoughtfully provided, his fingers casually interlaced. "For instance... why don't you try calling for your so-called Emperor?"
"..."
The Rat King’s cheek twitched as he glared at Old Ghost again. This time, however, his gaze was clearly a facade of bravado masking his inner weakness.
He gritted his teeth. If he could have contacted Mr. Bruce, he would have done so the moment he sensed something was wrong. Caution and meticulousness were the traits that had allowed him to rise from a common street thug to where he was today.
Unfortunately, Mr. Bruce hadn't left any way to contact him, and he hadn't appeared in the Lower District for months. Only when his messengers arrived with military-grade weapons—the kind these "rats" of the Lower District wouldn't even dream of—did his authority over the district manifest.
"It seems your Emperor won't be showing up tonight, Sam."
Old Ghost looked out the window. The biting wind swept aside the thick clouds, allowing a sliver of cold moonlight to spill across the wide river.
"As an old acquaintance, I’ll be kind enough to give you one more chance. You can stand by my side again and gain everything you’ve never had: power, money, desire. All you have to do is break those ridiculous, childish rules you spout, and it’s all within your reach."
"Don't let your conscience trouble you. You aren't the first, and you won't be the last."
Old Ghost lifted his foot and pointed it directly at the Rat King, his expression arrogant. "However, Sam, it’s a pity that now you only have the qualification to be a dog."
Old Ghost sat there, high and mighty, pointing his mud-stained boot at the Rat King. No matter how one looked at it, it was a deeply insulting gesture.
The Rat King stared at it, a torrent of furious curses hovering at the tip of his tongue, yet he couldn't force them out. He remembered how Old Ghost—the man who had once been a hair’s breadth away from dominating the entire Lower District—used this exact method to exert his terrifying authority over anyone who defied him.
Either crawl on the ground and lick his boots, or die.
Those were the only two choices.
The Rat King closed his eyes, lost in thought.
Old Ghost didn't rush him. The night was long, and he waited quietly for the Rat King to finish his deliberations. He was confident the Rat King would give him a satisfactory answer. After all, ten years ago, everyone gave him the answer he wanted.
"Hiss... Hooo..."
The Rat King suddenly took a deep breath, as if using the chilly river air to cool his overloaded brain.
Finally, he opened his eyes.
There was still fear deep within his gaze, but his resolve seemed to have hardened.
"Old Ghost, do you know what it feels like to not have to roll around in the mud? To not have to wag your tail and beg for scraps of food thrown by others?" the Rat King asked suddenly.
"What do you mean?" Old Ghost’s eyes narrowed dangerously.
"Once, just to stay alive, for money and status, I did everything. I knelt and begged, I licked the boots of the Great Lords, and I climbed up step by step. But even after I worked myself to the bone to build the Rat Society, I still had to live off the scraps that fell from the fingers of those high-and-mighty masters."
"Old Ghost, I know that for you to return, you must have someone powerful backing you. Maybe it’s even one of the masters who used to toss me scraps. They want us to be their dogs again, to be driven at their whim. Something big is about to happen in Belland; I can feel it. No one is more sensitive to that than a rat in the gutter."
"Being a dog isn't actually that big of a deal. Who hasn't been a dog while surviving in the Lower District?"
"But..."
The Rat King’s face twisted into a snarl. He suddenly jerked up the magic repeating crossbow that had been hanging at his side.
"There’s a difference between dogs! For the past few months, for the first time in my life, I’ve learned what it means to have dignity!"
Zheng—!
The crossbow fired instantly. A sharp bolt whistled past Old Ghost’s cold face.
It missed. Or rather, it was deflected.
Seeing the translucent barrier around Old Ghost, the Rat King wasn't surprised. How could a man who once ruled the entire underworld of Belland with the iron fist of a tyrant be naive enough to think he could suppress everyone with mere presence alone?
The fundamental law of this world was always the survival of the fittest. The strong ruled.
And Old Ghost was the strong one.
The Rat King turned his head quickly toward the sole subordinate he had brought with him. "I’ll take care of your family. Your sister will go to the best school."
The subordinate’s expression flickered for only a fraction of a second before he gritted his teeth. "Yes, sir!"
Without a moment’s hesitation, a pitch-black spherical object appeared in the subordinate’s arms. He clutched the sphere tightly and charged headlong at Old Ghost.
Gentleman Gro, who had been watching the show from the sidelines, turned pale. "A military magic bomb? Where did he get that?"
"Damn it!"
Old Ghost also knew the terror of these military-grade weapons of destruction. He didn't sit still. He reached out his hand, closing his fingers in mid-air toward the man making the suicide charge.
The translucent barrier instantly contracted, trapping the man and the impending rainbow light of destruction within its confines.
As his most loyal subordinate was reduced to ash within the iridescent glow, the veins on the Rat King’s forehead throbbed. He forced himself to look away, seizing the brief window bought with a life. He aimed his crossbow at the side of the cabin and fired.
The bolt was infused with mana. The moment it struck the cabin wall, it exploded. Wood splinters and red-hot metal shards flew in every direction. Protecting his head, the Rat King lunged through the jagged hole created by the blast.
Plash.
With the sound of a heavy splash, the small-statured Rat King vanished into the vast waters of the Old Rhine like a fish.