Monster Evolution System: I became a Rat-Chapter 101: A City of Life

The rays of light were diverted from the land as dark clouds churned above the city, filling its sky with dust and smoke.

Below, the bellowing of machinery engulfed the streets in a shroud of noise that knew no silence.

A cry rose from the lower district, faint yet distinct from the mechanical roar. It echoed briefly before dissolving into the industrial thunder. The men of the city did not react, as though they had heard it countless times before. Some found the sound discomforting and turned their faces away. Others pressed their hands over their ears.

Yet on their faces, shame and guilt remained etched, as if they could not entirely forget the humanity they once possessed.

Along the narrow edges of the city stood arched windows that had once been high above the ground but were now reduced to crooked doorways, half-swallowed by rising streets and layered construction. Through them, people trickled in, fewer than before, yet still drawn by promise or desperation.

Above the main gate, a vast banner hung in rigid black cloth.

In capital letters, it read:

ELIAS-ASHMOLE.

Two men carrying unusually large baggage, as though they intended to settle in the land, slowly trudged toward the guards who were inspecting those entering the city.

When their turn came, one guard called out, "You two. State your reason and purpose for visiting."

Rosacer removed the scarf that covered his face. "To stay," he replied calmly. "For the elixir."

His face was marked by a series of scars, some from claws, others from burns that had never fully healed.

The guard gestured for him to cover his face again. Behind him, a few of the other guards laughed at Rosacer’s stated reason. The guard facing him barely glanced at the documents before waving a hand dismissively, signaling for both Rosacer and his companion to move along.

"Thank you," Rosacer said evenly as he pulled the scarf back into place.

Gringha gave a polite nod and followed behind, carrying a massive bag over his shoulder.

The guards cast sideways glances at their luggage but did not stop them for further inspection.

Gringha whispered under his breath, "Looks like we are in for now. But they will likely sell our luggage information. Soon, some bastard will come looking for it."

Rosacer replied calmly, "Yes. We should be ready for a fight."

He paused for a second. "Would the security forces intervene if we fought openly?"

Gringha smiled faintly. "Of course they would. But if we finish it quickly before they arrive, they might not be too much of a nuisance."

Gringha then removed his scarf. His voice, now clear and unfiltered, carried a sharper edge. "I will try to contact Amara."

He stepped closer.

"You stay alive until then."

With that, he tapped Rosacer on the shoulder and vanished the very next second into the dark, dingy, grease-stained veins of the city.

Rosacer glanced back for a moment, but Gringha was already gone. He sighed inwardly and continued alone through the trench-like arteries of the city.

The smell of oil and grease was prominent. Most citizens wore garments treated with hydrophobic coatings. Water did not stain their clothes, and even grease slid from the fabric as they moved.

At regular intervals, a barrage of oily rain poured down when the upper furnaces expelled pollutants into the sky. Black droplets struck stone and metal alike, hissing faintly before running into grated drains.

Rosacer had already slipped into his suit beneath his long robes, which quickly burned away under the black rain.

He sighed again as his robes vanished from his body, leaving only his suit on him as he kept walking.

He had probably only walked a couple more minutes when he suddenly felt it.

A tingling sensation crawled beneath his skin, sharp and electric.

He turned around.

No one stood behind him. Only steam vents and passing figures who paid him no attention.

His heart began to quiver.

What is happening?

The locket at his chest grew warm. The grafted sigil engraved upon it began to writhe, its lines softening as though melting. The metal warped silently, reshaping itself in defiance of its original design.

Rosacer tore it free just as it changed completely. 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝘦𝘸𝑒𝒷𝓃ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝒸ℴ𝘮

The locket collapsed into a shard.

A broken mirror fragment with an opaque surface rested in his palm, its edges cold yet pulsing faintly with inner pressure.

Then the system erupted within him without warning.

[Cruel Shard is reacting with the transmutation in the air.]

[Reek Shard is closer.]

[Reek Shard is in someone’s possession. Please maintain caution.]

Rosacer’s breath slowed.

Without another word, Rosacer invoked Oblivion.

In a single second he vanished, space folding inward like a silent collapse. Pale green flames erupted where he reappeared, tearing through the air beside Gringha.

Gringha leapt back instinctively, hand already reaching beneath his cloak.

The flames thinned.

A familiar figure emerged from the flames.

Upon recognition, Gringha’s eyes relaxed.

"What was that?" Gringha snapped, half in anger, half in disbelief.

"Someone was following me," Rosacer replied, his voice grim. "Right after we parted."

"Who?" Gringha asked, tone sharpening.

Rosacer shook his head slowly. "I could not see them."

That answer unsettled Gringha.

He turned toward a narrower street branching to the right. Pipes ran low overhead, dripping condensation that sizzled when it struck the heated stone below.

"Here," Gringha continued. "The workshop of someone I know. We can lie low there for a while."

They crossed quickly and took the turn.

The house came into view through a curtain of steam.

Smoke coiled thickly in the air. The entire surrounding area was slick with grease and oil. Dust stuck to the residue, coating the exterior walls in a lasting layer of filth that looked both dirty and grimy.

At first glance, the building looked pretty unremarkable. Two paneled windows, their glass clouded with layers of soot. A sturdy front door reinforced for extra security. Slim walls squeezed in between the neighboring structures.

But the roof told another story.

Ten chimneys rose from it in uneven formation, each exhaling continuous streams of smoke. Some dark and heavy. Others faintly tinted green or violet. The smell of burning reagents lingered sharply beneath the industrial stench of the district.

Rosacer’s shard pulsed faintly in his pocket.

Gringha stopped before the door and knocked in a deliberate pattern. Three short strikes. One pause. Two slow knocks.

Just then from within, machinery clanked.

The noise paused for a moment. Then, behind the soot-stained door, the locks began to turn.

Just as the final click rang out, the door swung open.

Rosacer had already taken a step back, his fingers twitching slightly, ready to invoke Oblivion at the first sign of hostility. But when he saw that Gringha’s expression did not change, he forced himself to remain still.

From behind the door emerged a tall, well-built figure.

Scars lined her arms and traced faintly across her neck, disappearing beneath the collar of her work clothes. Her face was strong, defined by sharp angles and a steady jaw, yet there was unmistakable warmth in her presence. She looked both battle-hardened and fearless.

Her long brown hair was tied loosely behind her back, strands escaping to frame her face. Her silver eyes were cold, almost metallic in their clarity, yet the calm depth within them softened the contrast. The warmth of her expression and the chill of her gaze should have clashed, yet somehow they completed one another, forming a beauty that was neither gentle nor cruel, but resolute.

Her eyes shifted from Gringha to Rosacer.

"You brought company," she said evenly.

Gringha gave a small nod. "We need a place to stay."

Her gaze lingered on Rosacer a moment longer, sizing him up... taking his measure.

"You are injured," she observed.

Rosacer said nothing.

The woman stepped aside, leaving the doorway open. Behind her, the interior glowed faintly orange from furnace light, shadows of rotating mechanisms crawling along the walls.

"Come on in," she said. "Before the damn rats start sniffing around."

For some unknown reason, Rosacer felt slightly attacked by that statement, but he did not say anything as he followed Gringha inside.

The lady looked around carefully as she closed the mechanical door behind them.

Inside, there were chambers, each marked with strange symbols, the walls covered in grime and decorated with an artistic flair Rosacer had never encountered before.

There were paintings on the wall, each depicting a kind of body horror beyond anything a human could imagine.

Rosacer stayed silent, turning his head forward and continuing to walk.

The lady led the way with Gringha following behind her. As they walked, no one spoke a word, and she kept her head held straight.

Soon, a plain door with no symbols came into view, and the group stepped inside. The furniture and everything else looked as ordinary as in any typical house.

Once they had settled in, Gringha turned toward her and said, "Krodeshas, there has been some trouble in Vermis. My accomplice and I need a place to hide. Could you please let us stay here for a while?"