Chapter 184: Golden

  The week that followed was one of cautious optimism in Reinhart. The air felt lighter, and the tension that once clung to the town like a heavy fog seemed to dissipate.

  The streets were busy—officers moved with quiet confidence, citizens walked with less urgency, and the town felt secure for the first time in what seemed like ages.

  The officer corps had finally reached its quota of lieutenants, each one equipped with a magical artifact.

  With their presence stationed across Reinhart, there was a growing belief that the town could stand firm if another threat emerged.

  The dark days of uncertainty were beginning to fade.

  Burt remained unconscious but stable. His breathing was strong, and his body seemed to radiate vitality.

  Though he had yet to wake, Abel knew it was only a matter of time. When he did, Burt would return not only alive but empowered — a Pseudo with new potential.

  Abel was relieved, but he also knew that Burt’s survival had relied heavily on sheer willpower.

  Successfully replicating the ritual felt daunting.

  The circumstances had been specific, and Abel worried that repeating the procedure might not go so smoothly next time.

  Still, the knowledge gained from Burt brought him closer to mastering the ritual.

  Meanwhile, Lena had moved into a guest house in the Starry Estate, and she had grown more comfortable with her transformation.

  Her werelion form no longer felt as volatile as before — she had become more instinctive, more fluid in her movements.

  Through experimentation, she’d discovered an incredible regenerative ability, allowing her to recover rapidly from injuries.

  Her senses had also sharpened; at night, she could hear faint footsteps from streets away and track scents with remarkable precision.

  The once overwhelming presence of the voice in her head had also dimmed significantly, thanks to the tiara Abel had given her.

  She was starting to feel in control — like this power was something she could own rather than something that owned her.

  Hector, on the other hand, was content to enjoy the quiet life. His estate was well-kept, and his new staff ensured things ran smoothly.

  For the first time in what felt like forever, Hector was living without chaos breathing down his neck.

  Though Abel occasionally checked in, Hector seemed determined to keep his involvement in magical matters to a minimum.

  He had no desire to be pulled into conflicts again — comfort and stability were all he wanted now.

  Abel, meanwhile, spent his time in his basement, buried in notes and journals.

  The ritual that had saved Burt had become an obsession — he knew that refining it could open many doors.

  Yet there was another ritual he had yet to explore — one designed to create specialized magical artifacts.

  It lingered at the back of his mind, intriguing yet unimportant compared to his current focus.

  Artifacts were valuable, but at the moment, mastering the ritual for strengthening others felt far more urgent.

  Still, Abel had considered an alternative — perhaps it was time to exchange the artifact creation knowledge for contribution points.

  The Tower rewarded useful information, and with enough points, he could gain access to rare resources, knowledge, or even specialized training. It was an option worth considering.

  Among his studies, one book continued to nag at him — "The Notes of a Skeptic" — a strange text that Elliot had gifted him.

  The book was dense, filled with unusual ideas and seemingly incoherent ramblings.

  The author obsessed over concepts like divine energy, faith, and the unsettling nature of “parasitic exchanges” — the supposed cost of receiving power from divine sources.

  The text claimed that such energy always took something in return — a crucial part of oneself, whether memory, emotion, or even a piece of the soul.

  What disturbed Abel most was the author's warning about beings masquerading as deities — manipulative entities that twisted devotion into a transaction.

  The book hinted at these creatures lurking just beneath the surface of the world, quietly weaving influence while posing as objects of worship.

  Abel couldn’t shake the feeling that this bizarre text held some hidden truth — perhaps related to the Pale Order or the strange cultists they had encountered.

  But no matter how many times he reread its passages, most of the content remained cryptic and elusive.

  For now, it was just noise — noise that Abel feared might become relevant sooner than he would like.

  Abel had finished his work in the library for the night, his mind still turning over the strange concepts from The Notes of a Skeptic.

  As he extinguished the lanterns in the basement and made his way toward his room, a sharp knock echoed from the front door.

  That’s strange... No one had mentioned a visitor, and for someone to slip past the guards undetected just to knock? That was even stranger.

  He could tell that the individual on the other side of the door stood alone and didn't seem to have any malicious intent.

  Cautious, Abel grabbed his knife from his robe and walked to the door. He opened it carefully, prepared for anything — but what greeted him wasn’t what he expected.

  A man stood there, wearing a golden rat mask that gleamed faintly under the moonlight.

  Abel immediately recognized him — Golden, the eccentric merchant from the Bazaar. Abel's grip on his knife loosened slightly, but his expression remained stern.

  “How did you find me?” Abel asked coldly. “And what do you want?”

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  Golden’s posture was stiff, anxious. “I’ll admit, it took... considerable resources and effort to track you down, Lord Abel,” he said, voice muffled behind the mask. “I mean no offense, but I wouldn’t have come if it wasn’t important.”

  Golden said quickly, hands raised. “But this is serious — and it may affect the town.”

  That made Abel pause, the mention of Reinhart’s safety caught his attention. He crossed his arms.

  “Start talking.”

  Golden let out a relieved breath. “It’s... my lab,” he explained. “It’s beneath my house on Oak Street — a small place I’ve been building for years. Recently, one of my artifacts... well... it has caused me some trouble.”

  Abel’s brow arched. “Caused some trouble?”

  “Yes,” Golden said, lowering his voice. “It has caused chaos in my basement. It’s taken over my lab, and these... these things started appearing — creatures that shouldn't exist. I tried handling it myself, but my power alone isn’t enough. Whatever these entities are, they are strong. I’m worried it’ll spread, or worse — draw attention to the town.”

  Abel kept silent for a moment, digesting the information. Golden’s desperation seemed genuine, but this whole situation reeked of poor decisions.

  The man gave off the vibe of an artifact hoarder — whatever had happened was likely his own reckless doing.

  “You want me to clean up your mess?” Abel said flatly.

  “I wouldn’t ask if I had another option,” Golden admitted. “I know we’re not friends... but you’re strong — stronger than most. If this thing keeps growing, it might spill out into the streets. I... I can’t let that happen. Please.”

  Abel exhaled slowly, the weight of the request sinking in. He knew better than to blindly trust Golden, but if the situation really could endanger the town, ignoring it wasn’t an option.

  “Fine,” Abel said at last. “Lead the way.”

  Golden bowed his head quickly. “Thank you. Truly.”

  “Don’t thank me yet,” Abel muttered, stepping out into the cold night. “This might get ugly.”

  After some time, they reached their destination. Golden’s home was surprisingly modest — a simple, unassuming structure tucked away on Oak Street.

  Abel wasn’t sure what he expected from the eccentric merchant, but this plain home wasn’t it.

  For someone who traded in rare and powerful artifacts, Golden’s lifestyle seemed oddly humble.

  Golden moved swiftly once inside, wasting no time. He led Abel to the kitchen, where he shoved aside a wooden table and peeled back a dusty carpet, revealing a hidden wooden hatch in the floor.

  The old iron handle clanked as Golden yanked it open, revealing a narrow stairway that led downward.

  “This way,” Golden urged, his voice low and uneasy.

  Abel followed without hesitation, stepping carefully down the creaking stairs. The air grew colder as they descended, the faint scent of mildew filling the passage.

  The stone walls narrowed slightly, the corridor stretching out before them until it reached a heavy wooden door.

  Golden stopped and turned to Abel. “It’s just past here,” he whispered. “The artifact’s inside.”

  Abel’s eyes narrowed. “What kind of artifact are we dealing with?”

  Golden shifted uncomfortably. “It... it was a one-use artifact. A doorknob.”

  Abel blinked. “...A doorknob?”

  Golden nodded grimly. “I bought it years ago. It was strange — I could feel something... wrong about it. The damn thing seemed to beg me to twist it, but I always resisted. Until recently.” He sighed heavily. “Curiosity got the better of me... and when I turned it, it created an imaginary door. On the other side was... something awful. A world I can’t describe. I shut the door as fast as I could, but... some things made it through before I managed to lock it.”

  Abel’s face hardened. “You kept a cursed artifact like that in your home? And you made it sound like you weren't at fault for it?”

  Golden looked away. “I didn’t think it would do... this. I couldn't control myself.”

  Abel muttered something under his breath before unsheathing his knife.

  The blade hummed faintly, coated in a thin layer of starry mana. “Step aside,” Abel ordered.

  “Wait!” Golden protested, stepping in front of the door. “Please — don't destroy it! That door is priceless,I paid so much gold to get a door built with some tough materials…”

  “Can you open it quickly?” Abel interrupted, his tone sharp.

  Golden winced. “Not quickly... The lock’s tricky — it’s layered with mechanisms, takes a few minutes at best.”

  Abel scowled. “If you start fiddling with that door, whatever’s behind it will hear us and prepare.” He took a step forward, tightening his grip on the knife. “Step. Aside.”

  Golden hesitated, then reluctantly moved out of the way.

  “Fine... but be careful,” Golden muttered.

  Abel didn’t bother responding. He gathered mana, concentrating it into his knife.

  The faint glow of his starry mana intensified, the air around the blade shimmering like heat waves. With a swift motion, Abel slashed through the air, unleashing a sharp crescent of celestial energy.

  CRACK-BOOM!

  The door exploded inwards, splinters flying as the wooden frame crumbled into the dark room beyond.

  The air immediately shifted — stale and cold, yet foul with an underlying scent of rot.

  Golden coughed as the dust settled, squinting past the haze. “...Damn,” he muttered, half in awe, half horrified. “That’s... that’s something.”

  Abel ignored him, his gaze locked on the shifting shadows beyond the shattered doorway.

  Silhouettes moved within — unnatural shapes writhing and slithering like twisted mockeries of life.

  “Stay back,” Abel warned, stepping forward. “Whatever’s in there... isn’t friendly.”

  The dust finally settled, revealing the twisted forms lurking beyond the ruined doorway.

  Four creatures stood in the gloom — monkey-like beings with sinewy frames covered in shaggy blue fur.

  Each had four bulbous, glassy eyes that gleamed with unnatural awareness, and atop their heads, jagged black horns curved upward like cruel blades.

  Their arms were unnervingly long, each ending in just two gnarled fingers tipped with sharp, claw-like nails.

  Abel narrowed his eyes, quickly assessing the threat. Two of the creatures emanated a powerful pressure — unmistakably rank one apostle-level — while the other two gave off the presence of pseudo-level beings.

  He exhaled slowly. Golden didn’t stand a chance.

  Abel almost felt disappointed — he had hoped for something more challenging.

  The air rippled as Abel activated his World of the Rosette Celestial — his second rune's power surged, and from his body burst a wave of glowing starry petals and thorned vines.

  They spiraled outward like a living barrier, filling the basement with celestial light.

  Golden staggered back in awe, pressing himself against the wall as the vines swirled like chains, weaving around the monkey-like creatures and binding their limbs.

  The beasts snarled, baring jagged teeth, but the moment they tried to move, the thorns tightened — piercing their flesh and digging into their muscles.

  The two pseudo-level beasts thrashed weakly, their movements sluggish and strained as the starry thorns constricted them.

  The two stronger ones roared in defiance, fighting through the pain. One lunged toward Abel, dragging the vines along with it as black ichor seeped from its bleeding limbs.

  Stupid.

  Abel’s knife flickered with starry energy as he moved in, stepping to the side and slicing clean across its chest.

  The creature shrieked as celestial light burned through its wound like molten metal, its fur curling away as its body collapsed with a final, gurgling breath.

  The second rank one creature snarled and lunged as well withs its claws glowing a blue light, but Abel was faster — weaving past its sluggish claw swipe before stabbing the knife directly into its throat.

  From above the head, the starry blade seemed to extend outward, almost turning into a starry sword.

  He twisted the blade, releasing a concentrated burst of starry mana. The creature convulsed violently before crumpling like a puppet with its strings cut.

  The two remaining pseudo-level beasts were immobilized, their bodies trapped beneath Abel’s thorns.

  Without hesitation, he dispatched them both — swift, efficient cuts that ended their lives without giving them a chance to react.

  Abel stepped back, breathing steadily. The starry petals slowly faded away, leaving the basement littered with broken bodies and curling blue fur.

  Golden stood wide-eyed, frozen in place as he took in the aftermath of the battle.

  The carnage before him was unlike anything he’d ever seen—and Abel stood at the center of it, calm, composed, and terrifyingly capable.

  His mind reeled back to the day one of those smaller creatures had first emerged in his lab.

  He’d tried to fight it off, but he was powerless—utterly overwhelmed. And now, that same type of monster had been wiped out by Abel as if it were nothing more than a minor inconvenience.

  It was more than impressive. It was humbling.

  Golden’s throat tightened. He had known Abel was strong, but seeing it with his own eyes… that was a different story entirely.

  This wasn’t just power. This was a gap he couldn’t even begin to measure.

  “I’ll be taking the remains,” Abel said casually, already kneeling beside one of the larger creatures.

  He began extracting its jagged horn with a flick of his knife, fascinated by its strange material.

  These creatures’ bodies — their horns, eyes, and even their blood — could be valuable in the right hands.

  Golden, still speechless, could only nod.

  Abel paused briefly. “Also... you’re going to be contributing to the new institute opening in town,” he added without looking up.

  Golden blinked. “...Contribute?”

  “That’s your compensation for my help,” Abel smirked slightly as he cut another piece of flesh from one of the beasts. “Don’t worry... you’ll know what the institute is soon enough.”