The Skeleton Soldier Failed to Defend the Dungeon-Chapter 45. Collaborator and the One Who Burns (5)

The tail continued following us. They kept a consistent distance, and it was only one person.

Strange.

We had been wandering narrow, dark alleyways long enough for an ambush to occur, yet no attack came. No additional followers appeared either, though others might have remained hidden.

However, I sensed the presence of a single, ordinary human. Thinking further, it seemed like this person was, in fact, quite ordinary.

Thud, thud.

After walking for some time, the figure drew closer. I prepared to draw my blade.

Clink.

Gripping the hilt, I turned swiftly on my left foot. But the one standing there was... An old man with a white beard.

That old man?

"Oh, that grandpa had been trailing us all this time? Impressive stamina," Rena remarked.

It was the man we had seen near the blacksmith's forge, the one who had observed us before retreating into the alley. Cautiously, I kept my hand on the sword hilt. If our pursuer had shown himself, it could mean an attack from all sides was imminent.

Yet, nothing happened. The old man merely took a few steps forward.

"You..."

"Speak," I firmly said.

"Come with me."

"Come with you?"

I remained ready to draw my sword at any moment. Human combat skills were unpredictable.

"Yes. It's dangerous to linger here."

"This alley?"

"No, this city."

The old man seemed eager to say more. Upon closer inspection, he seemed frail, but his eyes were sharp and focused. Something about the situation felt odd, almost urging me to follow. I looked at Rena.

She nodded, sensing the same feeling. "Let's go. This man isn't an addict, and that's enough reason to follow him."

"Yes, I thought you'd notice."

The old man led us through the alleyways with practiced familiarity. Soon, we arrived at a small house, where he produced a key from his pocket.

"Come inside."

Creak.

As the door opened, the smell of iron wafted out, and inside were various weapons displayed on racks. Even to an untrained eye, these were clearly high-quality items.

"I won't offer tea," the old man said, casting a cautious glance. "Nor will I offer you a seat. You should leave this city quickly."

"What do you mean by that, old man?"

Rena leaned her chin on her hand, but the old man wasn't looking at her. His gaze was focused on me.

Why is he looking at me like that? I wondered, remaining silent.

Instead, Rena spoke again. "If you followed us here to talk, why not explain properly?"

The old man continued to gaze only at me. "Leave before the guards return to the city."

He clasped his hands, and metal clinked against metal.

The old man was talking about the guards, so I asked, "Return? What do you mean?"

"Just that. They're not here now, but they'll be back by day's end."

"The guards were at the gates when we arrived," Rena pointed out.

Tap.

I gestured for Rena to hold back. "Are you talking about a... different group? Criminals dressed as guards, perhaps?"

The old man's eyes widened. "Yes! Did you come here already knowing that?"

"Go on," I prompted.

"They left to execute anyone in the city who resisted."

"Execute?" Rena echoed.

Meanwhile, I kept silent, feeling a shiver. I had experienced six deaths, but this was my first lucky encounter. Until now, information like this required repeated deaths, learning bit by bit, finding people who could provide clues, exploiting weaknesses, and gaining trust.

Luck?

Upon reflection, luck didn't quite fit. No, something about this situation felt unnatural.

"Why are you telling us this?"

I glanced around the room. Aside from the odd number of displayed weapons, the house was meticulously organized.

"That armor." The old man pointed to my armor, his hand steady despite his age. "I made it. That forge on the street? My shop."

"..."

"That's the last piece I ever crafted."

I felt a strange dizziness. I had taken this armor from the innkeeper's home. It was the armor Rubia had purchased.

"You made this armor?"

"Yes. The last set I ever forged. You've been wearing it this whole time."

Naturally, removing it would leave me defenseless and vulnerable to human attacks.

I nodded. "Yes."

"You must really like it, haha..."

The old man's laugh was hollow, and it seemed there was no need to clarify further.

"It was hard to ignore once I saw you wearing it. And... it reminded me of the woman who bought it."

His voice faltered, leaving the sentence incomplete. The woman he mentioned had to be Rubia.

"Last winter, was it?" I said.

The old man took a sharp breath and asked, "How did you know?"

"Just a guess. That's when I acquired it."

The old man let out a long sigh and continued, "I was born in Grassmere, met a woman from this city, and moved here. Forty years of life... yet lately, I've seen too many sins."

Regret filled his face, indicating the guilt of a bystander. It was as if he were choking on words left unsaid.

"Please, tell us clearly. What kind of guilt?"

Gulp.

The old man gulped and answered, "The lord grows opium here, distributes it, and forces the people of this city into addiction. Anyone who resists or complains is killed."

Rena interjected, "And you?" freewёbn૦νeɭ.com

"I... have my uses."

The old man looked back at the weapons displayed around us, guilt thick in his voice.

"I forge the guards' weapons. I claimed I couldn't work under the influence. That's how I survived."

"..."

"Being alone, with no one to threaten, they let me be."

"And the guards?"

"Pah, nothing worth mentioning. They're the lord's dogs. Three years ago, he brought in a dozen criminals to reinforce the guards. Things only grew worse after that."

I got straight to the point and asked, "Do you know of the Necron Society? Are these guards part of that group?"

The old man blinked in surprise. "There are rumors, but it's dangerous to speak..."

Clearing his throat, he continued, "Even rumors have stopped circulating. I'm just an old man trapped in this city. I can't tell you anything more than that."

Rena asked, "Is it alright to tell us all this?"

"What more can they do to me? You look like adventurers. I assume you're planning to go to the dungeon? The spider cave, right?"

I nodded.

"Be careful. The guards also went there to feed live humans to the spiders. If you go now, you'll meet them. They won't let witnesses live."

"Uh..." Rena shuddered, then asked the old man, "You know all this, and you still haven't left?"

The old man smirked. "Who would let me?"

"It wouldn't be difficult to escape alone, especially since you're not addicted."

He shook his head. "My wife was born and buried in this city. Where else would I go? I'll die here, too."

"Haa..." Rena sighed.

I turned back to the old man. "Is there... a bookstore in this city?"

"A bookstore? Why, may I ask?"

Hesitating briefly, I decided that we could trust the old man. "I'm looking for a book written by a man named Kevin Ashton."

"Never heard of him. We don't have a bookstore. There's the lord's library, though."

It was unlikely they would grant me entry. I had expected that much.

We prepared to leave.

"Take this," the old man said, handing over a black metal bottle. "I saw you at the general store earlier. I gathered you wanted to enter the spider cave... Consider this a gift in thanks for wearing my last piece of armor."

"What is this?"

"If you go to the cave, use it. Even diluted with water at a one to thirty ratio, it'll be more potent than any oil. They call it Grassmere's Fire."

Rena's eyes widened. "That... that's..."

I had heard of Grassmere's Fire. The succubus I once served enjoyed reading while resting her head on my lap, and explaining the concepts she read about helped her unwind. Whenever an interesting part came up, she read it aloud.

Clink.

Recalling her stories, I asked, my voice rattling slightly, "The legendary unquenchable liquid fire?"

"It's a secret from my birthplace. I succeeded in crafting a single bottle in my lifetime. I planned to save it for a masterpiece... but why should I give it to those devils?"

"Are you sure about this?"

I hesitated to accept it because its value was undoubtedly extraordinary. From his tone, it seemed this old blacksmith had managed to make only one bottle of such a rare substance in his life.

"Of course. Take it."

"If you have any requests, speak now."

The old man changed the subject. "I don't have much time left. The years are nearly up. To throw away this fire would be wasteful."

"Isn't there anyone else you can give it to?"

"They're all addicts. They're slaves to their very souls. Morality and values have vanished."

"Is it simply a matter of receiving the drug?" Rena asked.

"Exactly."

"Sir, that's not really what you want to say, is it?"

The old man chuckled. "Sharp young woman. I'm asking you to... use this well."

"Just say it."

"Tonight, the guards will return. Head to the spider cave and burn everything in it."

Rena smirked, one corner of her mouth curling upward. "Hah, I figured as much."

"If they return, they'll track you down for coming to my house. They'll assume I told you something. Then they will try to kill you."

"..."

"Strike first. This is your one chance."

Crossing my arms, I felt the weight of my armored fists. Rena grinned slyly at the old man's thinly veiled threat.

I asked, "Is this about revenge?"

"For seventy-five years, I've lived as a coward, only concerned with my survival. After my wife died, my life had no more meaning, no sanctuary." The old man sighed deeply. "I live on without purpose, while the lord poisons the city with drugs."

"Since when?"

"Three years ago. If my wife had been alive, they would have killed her. She was too passionate about justice."

"..."

"Bearing this has become unbearable. And then I saw you two. So, will you indulge the pitiful plea of a worthless renegade?"