Monster Evolution System: I became a Rat-Chapter 75: A City to Behold

Just as Rosacer was contemplating the meaning of the vision, Fea’s voice rang out.

"What did you see?"

Rosacer did not hesitate. "Elizabeth is in danger. Men in black were chasing her, and it seems they will catch her."

Fea frowned, clearly dissatisfied with the answer.

Still, a deal was a deal. She gave a firm nod. "I see."

"So, you know her as well."

Turning toward the trees, she raised her hand. The bark twisted and split as unnatural eyes formed within the wood, shaped crudely like those of a human. At her silent command, they scattered, vanishing among the forest. The root-like tendrils sank back into the ground.

Rosacer said nothing.

"Why not take the road from the village instead?" Fea asked.

"I do not wish to invite trouble right now," Rosacer replied, his voice firm.

Fea finally laughed, a soft giggle. "So, you caused trouble in the village. What did you do?"

She clearly did not expect an answer.

To her surprise, Rosacer replied, "I killed an adventurer in the tavern."

Fea’s eyes widened in disbelief.

"Are you insane?" she exclaimed. "Soldiers will be flooding that village by now."

She clicked her tongue in irritation. "Now even I must leave."

Then her eyes gleamed briefly, and her demeanor shifted. "To the south, there is a river. Follow it. You will find a road that leads to a nearby city."

"Our deal is done," she continued coldly. "I hope we never meet again, Mr. Rat."

With that, she vanished into the forest, a cold breeze following her departure and shaking loose the leaves from the branches.

Rosacer exhaled slowly and turned south at once.

He moved through the forest in silence, his footsteps barely pressing into the damp ground.

Sometimes, he stops to look around, an old habit of his, but most of the time he meets no danger.

Moonlight filtered through the canopy, tracing pale lines across roots and fallen leaves. The deeper he went, the quieter the forest became.

He encountered some small animals, but nothing frightening. He had imagined there might be monsters, yet he never came across any.

After some time, the trees thinned.

Ahead, the sound of flowing water reached his ears.

He followed it, keeping the river to his side just as Fea had instructed. The air grew clearer, the mist that so often clung to his skin fading with each step forward.

Eventually, he saw it.

A road.

It was old but well kept, stone pressed flat by countless travelers. Wheel marks crossed its surface, and footprints of all kinds overlapped one another, fresh and unhurried.

Rosacer stepped onto it and continued onward.

The reason he didn’t use Oblivion to teleport directly was that he had nothing to lock onto. He had realized something about Oblivion—it required locking in on something much more concrete, preferably a living person. Otherwise, it was a bit harder for him to find the place.

Trotting along the stone pavement, his boots clattered loudly, and he made no effort to muffle the sound.

The cool night breeze swept across the road again, pushing his long hair back, the chill against his forehead refreshing his mind.

He was truly enjoying the serene night walk before him, one of the reasons he had chosen to walk instead. "It’s been a while since I had such a night stroll. Last time, I remember seeing a ghost trying to kill herself. Hahaha," he laughed, recalling the moment.

Not long after, he came across some people.

Merchants passed him with carts laden with goods, chatting idly among themselves.

They gave him a nod, and he nodded back as he kept walking.

He smiled in between greeting them.

Dawn was breaking, the sun slowly emerging. Bathing the horizon in its light, it chased away the shadows as it climbed higher into the sky.

Morning had arrived.

As Rosacer drew nearer to the city, he saw wide plains where people moved about.

Families walked together, children laughing as they ran ahead, only to be scolded and pulled back by smiling parents. Travelers greeted one another, their faces open, happy.

It felt strange.

He let out a quiet sigh as he spotted them.

Their eyes held no trace of constant fear. There was no strained silence, no quick, wary glances bracing for trouble. Compared to the heavy stillness of the Mist City, this seemed unreal—almost delicate.

Rosacer watched them as he walked, saying nothing, blending into the flow.

The road gradually widened, branching outward, stone becoming smoother, cleaner.

In the distance, tall structures emerged—first as faint silhouettes, then as solid walls, and finally as towers standing proudly against the sky.

Huge, old-fashioned buildings rose like monuments, towering more massively and grandly than anything Rosacer had ever seen. Even as Aaron Smith, he had never encountered such tall structures as those in this city. Yet the architecture, along with the clothing of its people, felt so outdated it was as if he had traveled back in time. Even Mist City’s design was modern—this one was not.

He stopped before the massive gate.

Before him stood a great city.

Massive gates stood watch over the entrance, banners rippling from the high ramparts. The architecture carried the distinct signature of the Ackerman—solid foundations, sharp angles, and their emblem: a triangle crowned with three circles.

Crowds formed lines at the gates, people waiting their turn as guards checked documents and questioned each newcomer before allowing them inside.

Rosacer paused at the roadside, eyes fixed on the horizon. Finally, he took a step and began making his way toward the city.

"Documents, young man," a guard said to the person before him.

The young man wore a black suit, his eyes dark and his hair even darker. He quickly reached into his pocket but came up empty-handed.

The guard, confused, exclaimed, "What is this? Where are your documents?"

"Lost them in a bar fight," Rosacer replied, rolling up his sleeves to reveal a gruesome slash he had conjured using a Grafted Sigil.

The guard gagged slightly at the sight but composed himself. "I can’t let you in," he said, pausing. "But I’ll call the officers for help. Stand to the side."

Rosacer gave a small nod. "Will do."

He stepped aside obediently while the people behind him moved forward with their documents.

One by one, people presented their documents. The guards inspected them carefully, allowing those with proper papers to pass while turning away the rest without hesitation.

Rosacer observed quietly.

He noted that the guards were all pale as snow. They wore tight, fitted armor designed for agility rather than brute defense. Their joints were only lightly covered with hardened plates, leaving the rest flexible, built for swift movement and quick response.

In contrast, the people entering the city were diverse. Their skin tones varied, as did their clothing. Some wore simple travel garb, others fine fabrics or regional attire unfamiliar to Rosacer. It was clear the city harbored many cultures, a true mixing ground where differences blended rather than clashed.

That was a good sign.

If Rosacer wished, he could easily vanish within such a place. Among so many faces and customs, no one would question his appearance.

Finally, after several tense moments of waiting, an officer arrived.

He wore a dark uniform reinforced with ridged plating, white cuffs lining the ends of his sleeves. His presence was immediate and commanding.

Without hesitation, his gaze fixed on Rosacer.

Rosacer, standing off to the side, met his eyes the moment they connected.

"Come forward," the officer said, gesturing with his hand.

Rosacer gave a small nod as he obeyed. He quickly followed the officer toward the guards’ barracks, ignoring the side glances cast his way. The soldiers stationed there watched him with open suspicion as he passed between them.

Inside the barracks, the air was stale cold and felt rigid and orderly. The officer finally stopped and turned to face him.

"Where are you coming from?" he asked, his voice firm and solid.

"A traveler from far away," Rosacer replied promptly, his voice low and respectful. "I am not from this land. This is my first time in the city."

The officer’s gaze sharpened, doubt creeping his eyes. "Name the place you came from."

Rosacer notice that there was some roughness in his voice.

"From the east," He answered. "Dahaksetra."

From the outside, he appeared calm and composed, but inside he was a bit nervous during the interrogation. If it hadn’t been for the incident at the tavern, he would have taken the time to properly learn the region’s geography. Now, he had no choice but to piece things together from fragments of knowledge.

The officer studied him for a moment, then relaxed slightly. "Very well. Are you a merchant, or a performer?"

"A performer," Rosacer said. "A magician."

He flicked his finger, producing a small flame no larger than a candle’s spark.

"Enough," the officer snapped immediately. "No magic inside the barracks."

Rosacer extinguished the flame at once and nodded firmly.

"A mage," the officer muttered, "claiming to be a performer..."

"Is it wrong to be a performer?" Rosacer asked calmly.

The officer did not answer.