Night fell on 46th Street in the Lower District of Blackstone City.
At this hour, the Rusty Nail Tavern was nearly packed to capacity. The only exception was a table near the right wall. Originally meant for five or six people, it was currently occupied by only one man: Marcus.
Marcus's physique was intimidating—a textbook example of a "big guy." As a result, no one dared to share the table with him. Even the bartender was cautious when delivering drinks, fearing he might accidentally offend this menacing figure.
The tavern was bustling with noise. The rowdy shouts of drunks, the crisp clatter of dice, and the laughter of women mingled together, all saturated with the sour scent of malt ale and the acrid stench of low-quality tobacco.
While Marcus drank, he occasionally pulled out a pocket watch to check the time. He was clearly waiting for someone. After an unknown amount of time, several empty wooden mugs sat on the table before him. Yet his eyes remained clear, without a hint of intoxication. Only the cold, hard aura radiating from him kept the nearby drunks from daring to look his way.
A few minutes later, a man wearing a felt hat walked in. Upon entering, he swept his gaze across the room and walked straight toward Marcus's position. Seeing this, the bartender started to approach to ask if he wanted a drink, but he was met with a cold glare from the man in the felt hat. The bartender shuddered, swallowed his words, and immediately turned away.
The man in the felt hat reached the table and, without any ceremony, pulled out a chair and sat down. He placed his hat on the table. "Sorry to keep you waiting."
Marcus studied the stranger sitting across from him. Only when he saw the man's blood-red, slit-like pupils did he confirm this was the person he was expecting.
"The annihilation of the Valen family in Aleph City... you were behind that, weren't you?"
Hearing this, the man in the felt hat gave a shallow smile. "You wrong me there. The one who turned his blade against his kin was Lacy Valen. I merely gave him a small push."
Marcus took a heavy gulp of ale. "Heh. Turning a noble youth who was obsessed with archaeology and ignored the world into someone who slaughtered his entire clan in a single night—not even sparing the elderly, women, or children—is not something achieved by a simple 'push.' You used special means. You controlled his mind, or perhaps you altered his memories. Am I right?"
The man in the felt hat crossed his arms. "Enough, Marcus. You didn't ask me here just to settle old scores."
Marcus set down his glass and stared at the man, saying each word deliberately: "Of course not. I asked you here because I want you to help me kill someone."
"Who?"
"The current Governor, David Rick."
The man in the felt hat remained silent for several seconds before speaking. "I can help you. But Marcus, what are you offering in exchange?"
At those words, Marcus reached into his coat and produced a metal box, sliding it across the table toward the man. The metal box was somewhat large but appeared plain and unremarkable. The man picked it up, opened it for a glance, and immediately snapped it shut. He nodded with satisfaction. "Not bad. This is indeed something I need. When do you act?"
Marcus said in a low voice, "In three days. The Governor will be inspecting the Lower District. At that time, he will have only a few close bodyguards. It is my best opportunity."
The man asked back, "David Rick didn't secure the governorship through luck alone. Are you so certain you can make a clean getaway?"
Marcus raised his glass and drained it. "I don't need to get away. I only need to kill David Rick. As for my own life, it should have ended with my family ten years ago during the catastrophe in Lobo City."
"Very well. Then I shall see you in three days." With that, the man in the felt hat took the metal box and left.
Marcus remained in his seat, finishing the rest of his drink in one go. The harsh liquid burned his throat, but it did nothing to soothe the pain and hatred in his heart. In his mind's eye, he could already see the image of David Rick falling before him three days from now.
"Heh. I truly look forward to three days from now."
Meanwhile, the man in the felt hat walked through the streets after leaving the tavern. Before long, he entered a dark alleyway. A figure was already standing there, though his features were completely obscured by the dim light and heavy shadows.
The man in the felt hat walked up to the figure in the shadows, bowed deeply, and held out the metal box Marcus had given him with both hands. "Master, the item has been obtained."
The person hidden in the shadows did not reach out to take it. Instead, with a flick of a hand, a wisp of purple Chaos energy emerged, lifting the metal box from the man's hands. Upon receiving the box and checking its contents, the person in the shadows spoke with satisfaction:
"Excellent. Marcus's hatred is even more intense than I anticipated. With him as a pawn, we should be able to disrupt the order of Kolor for a while and draw away the attention of the Heretic Inquisition."
With that, the shadow figure flickered and vanished along with the metal box. After the figure left, the man in the felt hat collapsed to the ground. A while later, he woke up, looking around in a daze. "Strange... how did I get here?"
He pushed himself up from the ground, his head heavy and his cheek stained with the dust of the alley. The confusion in his eyes was like a thick fog that wouldn't dissipate. He had no memory of what had occurred in the last half hour.
Late at night, at 79 Wisteria Street, Byrne returned to his room.
The moment he closed the door, he shed all his vigilance. Pressing his back against the cold wooden panels, he slowly slid down to sit on the floor.
The battle in Lobo City had seemed relatively safe in the end, especially with Director Meow stepping in to conclude it easily. But the unease in his heart had not vanished. Director Meow's question regarding the special energy in his body was like a thorn stuck in his throat.
Though he had managed to pass the test this time, that unfathomable Director Meow was likely not as simple as she appeared.
After a moment, Byrne stood up and walked to his bedside table. He turned on the lamp and slowly opened the drawer. The red gemstone ring lay quietly beside the copper box. Under the lamplight, the surface of the gem emitted a warm glow.
Byrne picked up the ring, his thumb rubbing over the Laenian family crest as his brow furrowed. According to Director Meow, the true World Destroyer was actually the descendant of an illegitimate child of the previous Valen family head.
Where was this person hiding right now? Why did they make Lacy their scapegoat? Was it to hide their identity to better accumulate power in the shadows, or did they have other schemes?
Thinking of this, Byrne couldn't help but recall the conversation he had with Director Meow when he first returned to Blackstone City.