Good Fortune Arrives

Meanwhile.

"So, Mr. Lancaster, you encountered... uh, a zombie attack?"

"Then can you explain what a 'zombie' is?"

In the police station reception room, the tall, thin officer scratched his head as he sized up the young man before him, unsure whether to pull out an incident report form or a medical chart.

To be safe, he should probably take both.

"Uh... just think of it as something like a werewolf. It eats people, mutates, and has bright red eyes."

Across from the officer, Horn gestured with his hands, doing his best to describe what he had just encountered. Catching the startled look in the officer's eyes from the corner of his vision only made him more uneasy.

No way.

...No way?

Could I really be this unlucky? Was I actually the first one to run into it?

Maybe?

Fortunately, after a brief moment of surprise, the tall, thin officer in a navy-blue uniform rose to his feet. His badge read "Martin," and he thanked Horn with a grave expression.

"Thank you for providing this information, Mr. Lancaster. What you encountered is extremely valuable to us. In order to protect you from the threat of, uh, 'zombies,' we will be placing you under witness protection."

"We have a safe house specially prepared for people like you. Please come with me."

Somewhat relieved, Horn obediently stood and followed Officer Martin outside.

Late at night, a curtained single-horse carriage left two tracks along the street. Moths buzzed around the flickering streetlamps by the roadside, throwing themselves toward the light before plunging headfirst into the mud beneath them.

Filth and disorder had always defined the Lower District. Compared with the spacious, clean city center, it was practically another city altogether. Or rather, Birmingham's prosperity was precisely what the factories' smoke had built.

Although automobiles were beginning to spread, the Birmingham Police Station had not updated its equipment so quickly. Once they left the paved roads of the city center and entered the old Lower District roads strewn with cinders and potholes, old-fashioned carriages proved far more reliable than the crude suspension of automobiles.

The tall, thin officer rode alongside on horseback, patiently answering the questions asked by the youth inside the carriage.

"Mr. Martin, where is the safe house? May I know its location?"

"It is located in the Lower District. For confidentiality reasons, I cannot tell you the exact location. The Lower District has always been chaotic, but the most dangerous place is also the safest, isn't it?"

"Hard to disagree, Mr. Martin. Are there many people who have gone through what I have?"

"Quite a few. Some did not even survive long enough to report it. But don't worry. We have properly protected people like you. Nothing will go wrong."

"It seems you are very experienced, Mr. Martin. Very dedicated."

"Haha, Mr. Lancaster, you flatter me. I am just doing my job."

Apparently in an excellent mood, Officer Martin laughed and looked toward the bar lights gradually brightening ahead, licking his scarlet lips.

Filled with anticipation.

The irresistibly tempting flesh behind him was still innocently asking questions. He only had to keep him steady a little longer. Just a little longer...

After all, fear ruined the taste of meat, didn't it?

"Mr. Martin, why are your eyes so red?"

"That would be because..."

Wait, what did he just ask?

The shock that had only just surfaced in Martin's heart was shredded by a sudden pain at the back of his neck. A choking pressure clamped around his throat as tremendous force yanked the unprepared Martin off his galloping horse and dragged him over the uneven ground of the Lower District.

"Argh! Cough—aaagh!"

His left foot struck the ground first and bent at a grotesque angle against the rough road. Martin felt the entire world spin around him. His hands desperately tried to grab something, anything, to stop himself from being dragged farther, but there was nothing on the ground but sharp stones and packed, filthy dirt.

What is happening?!

That force was like an iron vise around his neck, showing no sign of loosening.

Clamping down mercilessly.

"Someone save me, save—"

His cries for help scattered in the wind. Beyond the pain, Martin felt only disbelief.

He found out?

When did he find out?

He was not one of those defective creatures who had to devour flesh and blood to sate their hunger. He had hidden for so long. He had been so close, so close...

"Really, why are you so red?"

A sincere question came from above. Horn focused on Martin, whose body writhed with red specks in his spiritual vision, as colorless flames emerged from the palm gripping his throat.

"—You are so red that my auto-targeting kicked in."

Since he was glowing red all over, he had to be a hostile mob. Burning him was the obvious answer.

His earlier awakening seemed to have slightly enhanced Horn's physique as well. He was nowhere near that monstrous woman from before, but with something to brace himself against, dragging an adult man with one hand was no longer a problem.

More importantly, [Flame of Destiny] had transformed, bringing with it a new ability.

[Burning]!

Unlike before, when its output was barely any different from a lighter and could only be used for delicate operations, now, whenever Flame of Destiny came into contact with something, Horn could ignite any "combustible" substance in his eyes. This included fuel such as wood and coal, as well as something as intangible as "spirituality."

Though its initial intensity was still low, as long as it received more fuel, even a spark could set a prairie ablaze.

Just like now.

"AAAAARGH!"

Feeling the agonizing burn at the back of his neck, Martin screamed. Yet compared to the pain in his body, what chilled him more was the Gift of [Grail] bestowed by the Lord, embedded within his flesh and blood. It was slowly being extracted by the flames, vanishing without a trace.

How was that possible? How could this happen?

What exactly was he?

"Talk. Who is behind you?"

The flat, emotionless question interrupted Martin's self-doubt and rekindled hope in his heart.

Right. Judging from his earlier behavior, he still knew nothing. As long as Martin could fool him, as long as he could bring him to the place where the Lord bestowed Gifts...

Then no matter what abilities this brat had, he would be assimilated by the great [Grail]!

Calming himself and trying to ignore the flesh scraped away during the dragging and the Gift continuously fading from his body, Martin explained in a trembling voice.

"Mr. Lancaster, cough, we can talk this out. We can talk this out."

"My superior, Inspector Riley Miller, ordered me to do it. I was only following orders!"

"And the Hound Gang—it was Jim Belloc of the Hound Gang. He is the one who wanted you. I can take you to him. I can!"

He gave in fast.

Horn raised an eyebrow, slightly withdrawing the flame from his palm as he continued his questioning.

"Oh? Go on."

Feeling the rate at which his Gift was disappearing slow slightly, Martin bent over and endured the bumps as if granted a reprieve, trying his best to explain clearly.

"Jim Belloc, the 'Bloodhound,' owns the Hound Bar. He was the first to receive the Lord's Gift. He has a warehouse underground, and he smuggles goods, deals in guns, eats people—he has done it all! I am useful! I know where his warehouse is!"

"I will not run. Put me down, and I will lead the way!"

The horse whinnied uneasily, two streams of white vapor spraying from its nostrils. Horn adjusted the position of his upper body, which he had extended to keep hold of Martin, and fell silent for a moment.

Seemingly understanding Horn's silence, Martin was overjoyed. Relying on the physical strength granted by his remaining Gift, he twisted at the waist, intending to say more and continue swaying Horn.

"I do not like him either. I can make a deal too. I know—"

"Oh, no need."

But Horn only shook his head.

"Huh?"

With genuine confusion, Martin had his neck twisted by Horn, forcing him to look ahead.

Martin's scarlet pupils shrank sharply to pinpoints as the bar's blinding neon glare rushed toward him.

They had arrived at the Hound Bar!