Chapter 812: The Hunters
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 812: The Hunters
In a small town on the outskirts of Belland.
As night deepened, a few dim oil lamps flickered to life along the streets.
In a place even more remote than Belland’s Lower District, oil lamps weren't exactly a luxury, but most ordinary residents still preferred to save where they could, retiring as soon as the sun went down.
Consequently, no matter how faint the light, an oil lamp drifting down the town’s streets was exceptionally conspicuous.
"Mr. Gert, coming back only now?"
In a two-story building, a wooden window facing the street was half-open. A youthful face, tinged with a slight blush, was partially visible. Even in the dark of night, her radiance was undiminished.
The girl blinked, her affection for him hidden—or so she thought—but a hint of intimacy and shyness still slipped into her voice.
"Yes, I had some business to attend to."
The man nodded with a smile.
The oil lamp swayed with his movement, illuminating his pale profile. Though he looked a bit unkempt with a face full of neglected stubble, his high bridge and sharp features hinted at a handsomeness far above average.
If he were ten years younger, the girls who loved him would surely line up from this end of town all the way to the riverbank on the other side.
Winnie cupped her cheeks, her thoughts drifting into a shy reverie.
Fortunately, she was the only one who had discovered his charm. In everyone else's eyes, Mr. Gert was merely a destitute merchant who had seen better days. Now, he even had to rent a room in her house, and would occasionally be scolded to his face by her ill-tempered mother for being late with the rent.
"I see..."
Winnie said softly, "If you need anything, just call for me, okay? I’m not asleep yet."
"I will. Thank you."
Gert pushed the door open, but just as he was about to step inside, he seemed to remember something. He took off his frayed hat and gave the girl an elegant bow.
"Goodnight, Miss Winnie."
"Mhm, goodnight!"
Winnie’s heart fluttered once more. She truly wished those blind fools in town could see this. In a remote place like this, only Mr. Gert would bid her goodnight with the elegance of a true nobleman.
After the farewell, Gert paid no more mind to the infatuated girl. He pushed through the outer door but didn't enter the main house. Instead, he made a sudden turn toward a corner of the cramped courtyard.
There stood a dilapidated warehouse, originally meant for storage. That was the place he had rented for two hundred Emiels, and where he currently resided.
With a click, Gert unlocked the door. He pushed it open with extreme care, knowing that if the creak of this old door woke the lady of the house, her banshee-like screeching would be enough to keep half the town awake.
"Another day with nothing to show for it."
The moment he stepped inside, Gert’s elegance and politeness vanished. He collapsed directly onto a makeshift bed of straw and mats in the warehouse—a bed that was no better than a dog kennel.
Perhaps through the rose-tinted lens of a young girl, he possessed a certain charm, but the majority of the townspeople weren't wrong. At this moment, Gert looked wretched, decadent, and pathetic. His trench coat was tattered, his trouser legs were splattered with mud, and the soles of his leather shoes were coming apart. He looked like he had just crawled out of some desolate wilderness; his appearance was barely better than a beggar's.
Only the oil lamp looked somewhat valuable, but in reality, he had simply swiped it from a cemetery warden.
"Marjorie, my Marjorie, where on earth are you?"
Gert didn't care about his disheveled state. Even though he had once been the type of refined man who bathed three times a day, he now lay in his only bed fully clothed.
After muttering blankly for a while, Gert picked up a nearby picture frame, his face filled with intoxication.
In this chaotic, dust-covered warehouse, only this frame remained pristine. Much like the bride in the white wedding dress in the photo, her pure smile seemed enough to sweep away all filth.
"Marjorie..."
Gert gently stroked the frame, his mind drifting back to her.
He and she were supposed to have a happy family, but everything had changed because of the arrival of a madman.
That madman... he would definitely... definitely...
"Hmm?"
Gert suddenly bolted upright. After listening intently for a moment, his eyes lit up, and a look of suppressed excitement crossed his face.
Moving with frantic haste, he went to the center of the warehouse, shoved aside a three-legged wooden table, and pulled back a filthy rug to reveal a basement entrance.
It was a very well-hidden entrance. Even the owners, Winnie’s family, likely had no idea there was a basement in the warehouse.
Gert had dug it himself, without anyone noticing.
The gaps of the entrance were hidden under dirt, making it difficult to spot. Gert brushed away the concealing soil, expertly found the recessed ring, pulled open the small hatch, and leaped down with surprising agility.
The basement was pitch black. Gert lit the old oil lamp again. The flickering flame cast long, ghostly shadows over stacks of newspapers and rows of photographs. Red threads wove through these shadows, connecting all the papers and photos, eventually converging on a single, central image that had been enlarged many times—looking almost like a funeral portrait.
The person in the photo was... Pars.
The handsome, middle-aged man in the photo lost none of his charisma even in print. Many ignorant girls might fall in love with him based on this photo alone. But right now, this photo was pinned to the wall by a dagger. The blade was driven straight through the forehead, as if manifesting a hatred that even death could not resolve.
"Pars—"
Looking at the man in the photo, Gert’s eyes instantly turned blood-red. His old hatred had been corrupted by time, yet it hadn't faded in the slightest.
Gert still remembered that day... that madman had arrived with a carriage full of flowers, claiming that he and Gert's wife, Marjorie, were in love. But his wife didn't even know him!
Back then, the man's smile had been just as it was in the photo—nauseating.
He should have killed him that day instead of just driving him away. If he had, he wouldn't be suffering this regret now.
"Marjorie... I will find you, I will..."
Gert knelt. However, he wasn't kneeling toward the photo of Pars, but in the opposite direction. There, a faint scent of incense lingered. On a crude, miniature altar, a small statue was enshrined.
The statue was delicate and beautiful, lifelike in its detail. It depicted a beautiful young girl holding her own heart, as if she were about to generously share it with the people of the world.
"My Lord... You said you found a trace of Pars. Is it true?"
Gert nervously clasped his hands together. Ever since Marjorie went missing—no, was abducted by that madman—the rest of his life had been dedicated to finding his wife. To that end, he had squandered his fortune, allowed his elderly parents to become displaced, and turned himself into this wreck of a man.
But he had to find Marjorie. He had to. Marjorie was still waiting for him.
As long as it meant getting his wife back, he was willing to pay any price.
"My Lord, please answer me. Have you truly found that madman?"
In front of the statue, the green smoke from the incense curled and drifted, gradually coalescing into a faint, bizarre silhouette.
The silhouette leaned close to Gert, as if whispering something into his ear.
"You found him? Really? That’s wonderful, that’s wonderful!"
Gert’s face was alight with excitement. In his mind’s eye, he could already see himself bringing his beautiful wife home and returning to their happy life. Of course, Pars would have died a miserable death in his fury, having suffered the most cruel tortures in the world before the end.
"Please, please, my Lord, tell me where Pars is, and grant me the power to kill him. For this... for this, I can pay the price. Any price!" Gert prayed fervently once more. After so much pleading, he finally had a response; he could no longer contain his agitation.
【Anything?】
A voice seemed to ask.
"I..."
Gert was dazed for a moment. He vaguely sensed that something was wrong, and his intuition told him there was an anomaly here... but as the green smoke of the incense shifted, Gert was quickly submerged again in the excitement of finding his wife.
"Yes, anything!"
【Very well.】
The statue of the girl Gert worshipped suddenly cracked. A nauseating mass of deformed flesh squeezed out from within. A flesh tumor rolled over, and a hideous, bizarre eyeball snapped open, staring at Gert with a cold gaze.
"This... what is this?"
Gert was startled and scrambled backward in a panic. "You—what kind of thing are you?"
【I am your Lord.】
"Nonsense! My Lord isn't a thing like this! My Lord is the one who brings the gospel of love to the world..."
Gert muttered in terror, seemingly unable to believe the scene before him. He couldn't believe the Lord he had worshipped for so long was this monstrosity. In his panic, one of his hands had already reached behind his back to grip the dagger.
And then...
...
...
"Mr. Gert, are you going out again?"
In the morning, before the sun had even risen, Winnie, who had just woken up, saw Gert preparing to leave from her window again.
"Yes."
Gert looked up, his face expressionless. "I have business. I’m going out."
"Oh, you certainly are busy!"
Winnie waved. "Well, be careful on the road. Stay safe! I heard there are some strangers in town lately; I don't know what they're up to."
"Understood."
Gert gave a cold response and walked away quickly, leaving Winnie with only his back.
Watching him go, Winnie pouted and muttered, "Mr. Gert didn't say good morning this time."
...
...
"Another failure."
After walking quickly out of town, Gert suddenly came to a halt. He showed no outward signs of abnormality, but in the river beside him, his reflection remained expressionless, its cold pupils surging with a fury beyond human comprehension.
"Ariel Bugard is this world's self-defense mechanism, but Muen Campbell... what exactly are you?"
The reflection murmured, then growled, recounting the failures and humiliations it had suffered recently.
Failure and humiliation were one thing, but for all of them to come from the same person—how could it accept that?
"It is not over yet..."
Gert looked up, gazing at the brilliant crystal palace in the distance.
The one who had been killed was merely one of its avatars. This time, to deal with Muen Campbell, it had made full preparations, mobilizing nearly half of the believers it had hidden in Belland. The destruction of a single avatar was not enough to...
"My, my, my. While interrupting someone's fun is a very bad habit..."
The morning mist was disturbed. From the other side of the river, a deep voice suddenly rang out. At the same time, a majestic and powerful figure approached. The aura was so overwhelming that even the surface of the river vibrated. "I must tell you... it is already over."
"Who's there!"
Gert’s gaze sharpened instantly. His reflection also stood ready, sensing that the newcomer was no simple character.
"Heh, I paid a massive price just to lure you lot out this time..."
The tall, majestic figure finally stepped out of the morning mist. His solemn footsteps seemed to stomp directly on one's heart. As he approached step by step, Gert already felt as though he couldn't breathe...
Thud.
And then, the figure knelt right in front of Gert.
Gert: "???"
The Reflection: "???"
"...Haha, sorry about that."
The two thick eyebrows on the Pink Bear's black bead-like eyes were practically twisted together. He hissed in pain while awkwardly scratching his head.
"I just spent some time kneeling on a ton of durians, so my legs are a bit wonky... can we redo the entrance?"