When?!
Arthur narrowed his eyes to slits as he looked at his shoulder.
The hand was covered in filth, its fingernails packed with black grime. It was filthy beyond belief, yet its owner's voice was rich and pleasant.
"Want to learn swordsmanship?"
"I'll teach you!"
"This is-Swiftbird Swordsmanship!"
As the words fell, Arthur felt a rush of air behind his head, as though something sharp were stabbing toward the back of his skull.
[Death Intuition] flashed rapidly!
Without thinking, Arthur shook his shoulders, setting every bone in his body rattling. In that instant, he became like a boneless noodle, not only slipping away from the thrust but also escaping the hand's grip.
Arthur lay prone on the floor. Not just his bones, but every muscle in his body underwent subtle changes, allowing him to move without further skeletal support. With his spine driving his muscles, he slithered forward at incredible speed, just like a real snake.
[Serpent Body]!
The trait granted by his [remnant dark serpent] talent truly made Arthur resemble a snake, yet in some respects he surpassed one-as he crawled without slowing, his neck freely twisted around, turning his head to look directly behind him.
He immediately saw who had grabbed his shoulder.
The beggar he had searched so long for without success!
Although Arthur had suspected as much upon seeing that disgustingly filthy hand, the situation still exceeded his expectations-
The previously vacant, witless beggar was "practicing swordsmanship."
Now the beggar's eyes were alert. Despite the filth covering his face, every movement carried a sharpness that could not be ignored.
He clearly held no sword, merely gripping empty air, yet whenever the beggar swung his arm, the sound of a blade cutting through the air rang out.
Moreover, Arthur could see the doorframe of 2 Kirk Street being silently sliced apart with each swing!
One tiny slit after another appeared in the frame, too small for an ordinary person to notice.
What kind of swordsmanship is this?
Or is it some kind of ability?
Arthur watched the beggar, who seemed to hold an invisible, razor-sharp sword, with a thoughtful glint in his eyes. Then his cheek involuntarily twitched twice.
The beggar, who had been "practicing swordsmanship" a moment earlier, suddenly stopped moving.
He stood there, his alert eyes clouding once more, that vacant, witless smile returning to his face.
A madman was frightening.
But a fool was even more frightening!
Because...
No one would guard against a fool!
Arthur was certainly an exception. Having witnessed the beggar's unusual abilities, he activated every trap in 2 Kirk Street as he retreated, while retrieving a flintlock, a longsword, and explosives from a hidden compartment beneath the floor beside him.
At that moment, it felt as though last night's dream were playing out again. Yet looking at the beggar standing vacantly outside the door, Arthur was more than ten times as tense as he had been facing the monster in his dream.
After all, in the dream, Arthur had not been certain whether dying would mean he was truly dead. Here, however, he knew perfectly well that if he died, he would be dead for real.
"Doll, dolly... scarecrow..."
Under Arthur's gaze, the witless beggar muttered to himself, and faint changes began to appear in his expression.
It was no longer mere vacancy.
Instead, it was...
Anger!
Unmistakable anger began to show on his face.
Dolly?
Scarecrow?
What are those things?
Arthur frowned deeply, growing increasingly puzzled, but that did not stop him from continuing to retreat.
He had already wanted to stay far away from the beggar when he was merely witless.
Now that the man's condition was growing stranger, he naturally needed to leave even faster.
There was more than one secret passage leading out of 2 Kirk Street, and one could even take him straight out of South Los.
"An escape route is essential for a Medium-even more important than the trump cards in your hand!"
That was what Old Charlie had said, and what he had done.
Although Arthur had no idea how Old Charlie had excavated such passages, at that moment he was once again grateful for everything the old man had done.
Arthur did not turn and run. Instead, he faced the beggar, whose breathing had grown heavy with anger, and retreated step by step, lifting his feet high and setting them down gently.
He hoped to reach the secret passage safely while drawing as little attention as possible.
Given Old Charlie's caution, there were naturally traps in the secret passage as well.
And they were far more formidable than those in the corridor of 2 Kirk Street.
As for the corridor's traps, judging by what the beggar had just demonstrated, Arthur did not believe they could stop him.
And indeed, they could not-
When the angry beggar noticed Arthur backing away, he immediately grew even angrier.
"Why?"
"Why are you leaving me?"
He roared as he entered 2 Kirk Street.
The traps activated at once.
Click!
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
Amid the clicking of gears and mechanisms, three spears concealed within the crimson painting shot straight out.
They were so fast that an ordinary person would have had no time to react.
And powerful enough to pierce a water buffalo.
Yet the beggar stopped them.
And in a manner that left Arthur speechless.
The beggar raised his hand, curled his fingers, and flicked them in quick succession. Starting at the points where his fingertips touched them, the three spears split straight down their lengths. Their metal heads and sturdy shafts were all cleaved in two, like tofu sliced with a knife.
And the beggar?
His mental state only grew stranger.
He began switching back and forth!
One moment, he muttered to himself.
The next, he growled in anger.
He walked forward as though driven by instinct. Even when flames engulfed him immediately afterward, nothing changed in the slightest. He suffered no injury whatsoever; even his filthy clothes failed to catch fire.
His witless smile amid the flames seemed like mockery.
His furious roars amid the flames seemed like accusations.
Had the painters who had lately been seeking out the culture of the "Age of Prey" witnessed this scene, they would surely have created an astonishing work.
Flames made it all too easy to think of a burning stake.
And the beggar's expressions within those flames were probably exactly what they had been pursuing.
But none of that had anything to do with Arthur.
Because the beggar sped up.
Without any warning, a single step carried him across the entire narrow corridor and brought him before Arthur.
Arthur's heart clenched.
At that moment, he was less than three meters from the escape passage.
Yet those three meters seemed like an insurmountable chasm.
[Death Intuition] flashed so rapidly that it appeared to shine steadily, like an ever-burning lamp.
Hhhh!
Watching the beggar right before him, whose expression kept shifting between vacancy and anger, raise his hand to thrust at him, Arthur drew a deep breath.
There was no communicating with him.
And he was stronger than Arthur could have imagined. Arthur could not possibly dodge the thrust coming from that hand, so he chose to communicate in his own way-
"Why are you leaving me!"
"Fate?"
"Is this fate?"
The man's muttering carried a roar, which then faded back into muttering.
The only thing that did not change was the hand stabbing toward Arthur.
"Heh. Only fucking idiots believe in fate!"
Arthur spoke softly with a smile, making no attempt to dodge.
Flames could not hurt the man.
But explosives should!
Because the explosives inside 2 Kirk Street were not limited to the small amount Arthur carried.
Likewise, explosives were not the only things inside 2 Kirk Street.
Once the traps were activated and the explosives' safeties were fully disengaged, 2 Kirk Street became an enormous powder keg mixed with all kinds of additives. Any living creature inside would be blasted to pieces.
Arthur believed the beggar would be no exception.
The next moment, Arthur pulled the fuse he carried.
Before you continue