An Ordinary Citizen

Volume: Volume 2

Title: Chapter 110: An Ordinary Citizen

Berland, the Lower City.

Thin wisps of fog drifted from the ancient Rhine River, enveloping the old, silent district. A sky shrouded in dark clouds offered not a single ray of light, making the entire area resemble a reflection of hell itself.

This was the source of Berland’s darkness, the shadow cast by the city’s sprawling, prosperous branches upon the land.

Chaos reigned here, an eternal theme.

Even as all roads out of the city were sealed, and the Upper City was guarded by the Knights and placed under curfew, the glint of blades, the flicker of flames, and the spray of blood continued to spread through the corners of this district.

“Stop!”

Howls and screeches shattered the deadly silence of a secluded alley. Excited thugs, brandishing sharp weapons and swords, enveloped in the glow of fire, pursued a scrawny figure in the distance.

“No… don’t come any closer. Please, let me go. Just let me go.”

The emaciated man scrambled away in a wretched state. He was covered in wounds, clearly having endured much inhumane torture.

Whoosh—

A sharp whistle of air pierced the night. The man suddenly stumbled, collapsing to the ground as a keen arrow, fired from a crossbow, pierced his calf.

Blood gushed forth.

“Let me go, please, I beg you, let me go! I didn’t betray the Rat King. I merely quit, washed my hands of it all. I didn’t betray him!”

The man’s face was streaked with blood and tears as he humbly pleaded for mercy and forgiveness from the thugs.

“Let you go?”

The thugs slowly closed in, their faces contorted in savage grins.

“Have you forgotten the Rat Society’s rules? You were more eager than anyone when we were making money. Now, just because there’s a hint of trouble, you want to walk away?”

“No, I didn’t, I didn’t! I just didn’t want to do it anymore. I don’t want to kill anymore. I want to be a good person.”

The man struggled to crawl before the thugs, kowtowing as he begged for clemency.

“We used to be colleagues, Swick. We often drank together. Let me go, please, let me go! I truly just quit; I definitely didn’t betray anyone!”

“Let you go? But if I let you go, who will let me go?”

Swick, the thug addressed, lowered his cold gaze and slowly raised the repeating crossbow in his hand, aiming it at the man’s forehead.

“If you want to be a good person in your next life, start sooner. Don’t wait until your hands are covered in blood to say such meaningless things.”

“No, I want to see the Rat King! I want to see the Rat King! I’ve done so much for him; he can’t do this to me!”

The man roared in terrified fury, but it was futile. In his desperate gaze, the bowstring slowly tightened, and then… fired.

The man instinctively closed his eyes, awaiting death.

Clink.

A crisp sound echoed, but the expected death did not arrive.

The man’s eyes widened in horror. Before him, an ancient, pure black cane stood silently, with faint traces of an arrow’s scrape visible upon it.

Who?

Someone had actually blocked a rapidly fired arrow with a mere cane?

Everyone stared in astonishment at this sudden newcomer.

He was dressed in a pure black, gold-embroidered tuxedo, which exuded an air of nobility. Yet, the jagged hem of his coat subtly hinted at a brutal, savage aura.

His physique was notably taller than an average person’s, giving off an overwhelming sense of oppression. Beneath the wide brim of his large top hat, the stern face characteristic of northern Slavs now held a strange, unsettling smile.

“Good evening, everyone.”

He tipped his hat, greeting everyone with polite deference.

“Did I just hear… someone wishing to be a good person?”

“Who are you?”

Swick immediately shifted his repeating crossbow, aiming it at the bizarre newcomer.

His thugs also raised their weapons, their expressions fierce, as they gradually surrounded him.

“Don’t be nervous, everyone. I’m just an ordinary citizen passing by.”

The tall figure in the tuxedo tapped the ground with his cane, signaling everyone to relax like a true gentleman.

“You can call me… hmm, let me think. Call me… Bruce Wayne.”

The smile on his lips grew wider, as if he had just conceived a wonderfully amusing idea.

“Yes, an ordinary citizen named Bruce, a Bruce without superpowers. It sounds quite fitting for me.”

“What exactly do you want?”

Swick’s finger gradually tightened on the crossbow’s trigger, his voice sharp with interrogation.

“Are you perhaps in league with this coward?”

“No, no, no, didn’t I say? I’m just passing by.”

The man calling himself Bruce—who was, in fact, Ewan—seemed oblivious to the crossbow poised at the brink of firing. He remained composed, and far from attempting to flee the thugs’ encirclement, he pushed aside a cleaver aimed at him and casually slung an arm around a thug’s shoulder, as friendly as a long-lost friend.

“However, I do have a small question I wish to ask this kind gentleman.”

“A question?”

Swick frowned.

Normally, he wouldn’t waste so many words. Anyone who dared to interrupt the Rat Society’s business would simply be killed and dumped in the sewers. However, this sudden appearance of the man left him utterly perplexed. Thus, he maintained a degree of caution, preferring to avoid violence if possible.

“What question?”

“I wanted to know, your boss, Rat King Sam, where is he currently…”

Whoosh—

A piercing whistle of air interrupted Ewan’s words.

He tilted his head slightly, pressing down on his top hat, and glanced at the arrow that had grazed his cheek before embedding itself in the wall behind him. He sighed with regret.

“Why can’t anyone let a person finish speaking?”

“Kill him!”

Swick’s eyes widened as he roared, “The boss said anyone who dares to ask about his whereabouts during this time must be killed!”

“Truly worthy of Rat King Sam, rumored to have a dozen safe houses and even change sleeping locations three times a night. Such vigilance is truly admirable.”

Ewan amiably patted the shoulder of the thug beside him, asking softly, “Wouldn’t you agree?”

“You bastard, die!”

The thug, however, clearly did not appreciate Ewan’s gentleness. He gripped his cleaver tightly and swung it directly at Ewan’s neck.

“That’s why I’ve always disliked violence.”

Ewan sighed once more.

“But why do all of you insist on forcing me to resort to it?”

His finger twitched slightly.

Thunder.

In the horrified gazes of everyone present, the thug closest to Ewan had half of their arm explode, dissipating into a mist of blood.

Amidst the scarlet vapor, the man who called himself Bruce, an ordinary citizen, whistled lightly and picked up the cleaver from the ground.

He weighed it in his hand.

“Ah, I’m so used to using Elizabeth; all other weapons feel like trash now.”

He shook his head in displeasure, then flipped his wrist, plunging the cleaver into the neck of a thug attempting to ambush him from behind.

It was as natural as strolling through a garden.

“But I suppose this will have to do.”

“Kill him! Kill him! Everyone, attack!”

Swick roared, his eyes bloodshot, as he cocked his repeating crossbow and aimed swiftly.

‘Calm down. I must stay calm.’

‘He’s just one man. He can’t possibly take out a dozen of us in an instant.’

‘As long as we can hold him, the power of this magic crossbow can turn him into a porcupine in moments!’

“Ah, by the way, could you answer one more question for me?”

Just then, the ordinary citizen pulled the blade from the man’s neck, elegantly dodging the spurting blood, and turned his gaze back to Swick.

“What is ten divided by ten?”

‘Ten divided by ten?’

‘Are you testing a child?’

“It’s one, of course,” Swick answered instinctively.

“Is that so?”

Upon receiving the answer, Mr. Bruce, the ordinary citizen, suddenly stopped, pressed his top hat firmly, and, ignoring the thugs rushing him from behind, murmured softly as if counting down.

“Then… let it be one.”

In that instant, as his words faded, and under Swick’s continuous aiming gaze, the man suddenly transformed into an afterimage and vanished.

Then, accompanied by screams that erupted almost simultaneously, countless mists of blood rose across the scene. It was like a resplendent flower of the underworld, slowly blossoming in the endless night.