The man raised his head and stared at Cyrus with bloodied eyes.
"The blood on my face doesn't disgust you? Interesting! Everyone said you were just an Artificer!"
He began cackling wildly, seemingly unfazed by his situation, which surprised Cyrus.
But the man revealed something unsettling to Cyrus—he was subtly changing after dabbling with dead bodies for long.
"I don't have time for games. I'll ask you again," Cyrus said, lowering his voice and narrowing his eyes behind his glasses as he pushed the blade just past the tip into the man's chest. "Who… sent… you?"
"Who sent me?" the man mumbled as he quieted. Then he erupted into a fit of boisterous laughter that twisted his bloodied face. "You will never know. You'll spend your entire life in fear and suspicion. So, what will you do about it? Kill me? Have you ever killed before? Do you know what it means to take a human life?"
Cyrus froze at the man's words. He had taken many beasts live and studied human corpses, but he had never ended a life himself.
Perhaps it was his morality holding him back, or a deep-seated fear of the consequences that would follow:
'What if I lost my value for the fragility of life? What if losing that value will push my experiments beyond the line, crossing into a darkness from which there was no return?'
"Looks like I'm right, but I will help you," the man said, pulling the blade deeper into his chest.
His eyes trembled with pain as he whispered, "Now… you've taken… a life. Don't worry, I left a p-present for… you."
The light in his eyes dimmed.
Cyrus was stunned by the turn of events, yet he felt no pressure in his heart as the man died. It was as if a beast had just perished before him. But that realization only frightened him; he was terrified of where his mentality was heading. The chilling indifference gnawed at him. He released his grip from the sword and stepped backward, his gaze not tearing from the dead body.
Then he remembered the man's words.
'Present? What present?'
Suddenly, loud knocks echoed on the inner door of his shop, leading to the basement.
"The security is here! Open up!"
Cyrus snapped his head to the door, realizing what the man had done.
'A fucking setup! Shit! How am I going to destroy the body? My acid for melting bodies is outside! Wait! Why am I trying to destroy the body when I did nothing wrong? I'm the victim! But…' He glanced at the dead man with a sword impaled in his chest. 'He must have anticipated this, so he must have something planned for me.'
"Not opening? Break the door!"
The voice yelled, followed by…
BANG!
The door creaked under the assault.
'Right! My spatial ring!'
Cyrus quickly unloaded the dead crab from his ring before bolting toward the man.
BANG!
Another hit deformed the door.
With a swift motion, he touched the man and stowed his body and blood-stained mask into his ring. He wiped his hands with a rag from the floor and stowed it too. Without hesitation, he pulled the ring off his finger and put it in his mouth.
BANG!
The door flew off the hinge, clattering to the ground.
Cyrus raised his eyes and saw four people dressed in various armor, the badge of Silvaran pinned to their chests, gazing down at him.
Inhaling deeply, Cyrus calmed his nerves. He knew he was caught up in an ongoing scheme, but he couldn't see the endgame.
What did the person want? Who was behind the scenes? Why him? He felt completely clueless.
The sound of clicking heels echoed as the four individuals descended the stairs, their faces stern. Their team consisted of three men and one woman.
The man in front walked toward him, with the others following closely behind. He stopped when he was face-to-face with Cyrus.
"You're Cyrus, right?"
"Yes, sir," Cyrus replied, maintaining a respectful demeanor.
"What happened?" the man asked calmly, his eyes exuding a faint pressure.
"Nothing! I just returned from hunting beasts and decided to visit my shop before going home for a warm bath." Cyrus kept his voice steady, even though his heart was pounding.
"Good kid. The tremor caused a huge disturbance and spread panic, so forgive us for invading your privacy."
Cyrus waved his hand dismissively. "No problem, sir."
"What caused it?" He asked.
"Miss Tracy kept this crab outside my basement, but as I was trying to bring it in, it fell off the stairs," said Cyrus while pointing at the crab.
The man nodded.
His expression became stern and sharp, the pressure intensifying. "But we will have to investigate this place. I can smell the blood of something that isn't a beast."
Cyrus's heart raced, but his face remained impassive.
"Okay. It's all yours," Cyrus said. "I'll wait outside."
"No, you wait here!" he ordered sternly.
Cyrus could only nod as the man moved about with a torch, sniffing and studying the ground as if solving a complex puzzle. He glanced at the dead crab before examining the spot where the attacker's blood had pooled.
Cyrus' breath got stuck in his throat.
The man squatted, touched the blood with his fingers, and concentrated. After a moment, he stood up sharply and walked toward Cyrus.
"Cyrus, you might have to come with us to the investigation room," he said calmly.
Cyrus's heart thumped at those words.
'Dammit! Why can't things go smoothly? I thought my luck was good after Doomed Fate returned to zero. Why can't he just see the blood and assume it was from the crab? Even if the crab's blood is green, he should have assumed it's mine.'
"Sure."
He had no choice but to agree, as they were all Eminent rank Elite. Besides, he didn't want to get a wanted poster across the nation.
They quietly escorted him outside, with him sandwiched in the middle, and led him toward their office.
Freya, who was outside, gave them a strange look. Cyrus winked at her as they continued walking.
As they exited the shop, Cyrus intentionally tripped and fell flat on his face, quickly spitting the spatial ring onto the floor.
He rolled on his back, groaning while discreetly placed his hand on the ring, hiding it neatly.
The four officers gaze at him.
"Sorry," he mumbled awkwardly, dust covering his face as he tried standing up, his hand still pressing the ring to the floor.
Groaning again, he staggered forward, stepping over the ring. At that moment, the ring was pushed deeper into the soil.
"Sorry. I sustained some injuries during my hunt. Even with the help of a suture potion, the internal wound isn't fully healed," Cyrus explained while wiping his face, ensuring his feet remained on the ring.
The captain nodded and gestured for them to continue.
They moved again, unaware of the true nature of what had transpired.