Weeks whizzed across the rooftops of the West Market, aiming at the terrace of a large merchant's residence suspended three stories below the wide river of sewage. He had walked this shortcut many times before, so he easily crossed the gap five meters high, curled up and landed, scattering tiles from the tall building next to the river in the west city.

He continued to run frantically from roof to roof, then jumped into an alley two stories high, quickly jumped over the stone railing, and entered the sewage river below, landing perfectly on a solid wooden measuring post in the middle of the river. From there, he jumped to the dirt-covered wall of the next block, desperately trying to buy something before climbing up and down, and the guards on the bridge were unaware of his illegal passage.

Starting from the bread basket, he headed north, snatched lunch from an unattended cart, then crossed the unguarded bridge into the forge area, and from there headed north to Fog Town, then west through the West Gate, where he dodged the namesake gate of Hyams Gardens far away, and finally reached the bridge gate to the Mage Quarter.

Compared to the bridge from the slum to the residential area, the bridge is huge, similar to the bridge that connects Smokytown and the craft district to Westgate. Mysterious and strange materials are constantly being transported back and forth across the bridge into the mage quarter, but the guards there seem quite vigilant, so Wex doubts that he will be able to slip into a large cart. Looking at the river, it also seemed to be a suicidal way to cross the river, so he chose a shortcut that he didn't like to use, and the reason was obvious.

Just as sewage rivers are ubiquitous in Helmsgaten, so are the tunnels that flow into them, draining waste and water from buildings in every district. The tunnels were unguarded, and although some had locks and fences, it was thought impossible for anyone to use the tunnels to traverse the area.

However, Weeks knows the truth of the matter. It is not impossible to use sewer tunnels to move between regions, after all, this is how smugglers in Helmsgarten make a living. The question is what thrives in sludge and sewage. He had only passed through the tunnel once, and the scar on his calf was still in his memory.

Rumors about monsters were everywhere, and he didn't believe the stories until he saw one such monster with his own eyes. A large rat with six legs and three tails, as well as a huge, twisted, overgrown skull, flew towards him, breaking his right forearm and carving a deep furrow in his calf. He was able to survive thanks to a fellow thief who sacrificed his life to protect him. He thanked the Eight Sages for their miracles, his wounds were not infected and healed well.

Weeks took a deep breath and opened the heavy lid on the repair manhole, the smell of waste and toxic gases emanating into the air. Then, he quickly walked down the primitive ladder, leaving the lid ajar so that a faint light could guide him down.

He shivered in disgust as his bare feet soaked in the warm current. But he soon mustered up courage and began to wade towards the river in front of him, which rushed over his legs, sometimes up to his waist.

"I should have run away......" he muttered to himself. But he knew he was too committed now, and the distant promises of a few hundred Novarians made it difficult for him to let go, so he kept going, pricking up his ears to listen to any voices from the inhabitants of the tunnel.

Where the tunnel dumps its contents into the river below, a large fence covers its front, perhaps to keep birds out or, more terrifyingly, to prevent something from leaving. To emphasize the latter fear, ravines can be seen over thick iron bars.

Wex looked out of the big hole, and the stench below happily rushed between his legs into the filthy river; Further afield, there were two fireplaces and tunnels staring at him. Even without a fence, no one had the ability to jump from side to side, since it was more than seven carriages long. Moreover, even with this supernatural agility, the threat of the rushing river below seemed to keep him from trying.

Reaffirming that he had to take the path he least wanted to take, Weeks turned around and struggled back to the well, the raging brown water pushing him back as best he could.

When he returned to where he had entered, he continued to swim against the river for a few meters until a side tunnel appeared. Wex didn't know why these extra tunnels were being built, because it was clear that most of the sewage was flowing into the river, which itself flowed into the slums, where it flowed into the sea through a labyrinth of tunnels that stretched for kilometers. Either way, such side tunnels give opportunities to those who dare to cross underneath the filthy river, and they can pass through various areas unnoticed.

His heart raced as he walked down the rapidly darkening tunnel. Despite the fact that there is a large ditch carved into the floor, the stench seems reluctant to come out.

After only a few steps, he came across another grid, which, to his astonishment, bent so badly to the side as if four men were smashing it with sledgehammers.

"Maybe the smugglers did it......," he said to himself, but not convincingly.

He crawled through the gap and continued until the tunnel bent again and began to extend downward. Instead of waiting to be spotted by what lurked in these filthy halls, Wicks picked up his pace and quickly walked down the dirty, smooth slope, standing against the crooked walls to avoid falling.

At the foot of the ramp, there is a handful of small fungal buds on the floor near the passage, emitting a faint light. In the scarce light, he saw that instead of another ramp leading to the mage quarters, the tunnel led to the mage quarters again, bending down again, leading to something deeper.

He let out a shuddering breath, but he still walked down the newly opened ramp deeper into the sewers.

As Wex went deeper, the fungus's light grew exponentially, once covering the floor and a corner of the curved wall, emitting enough light to keep him to the other end of the tunnel, where two paths appeared. There is a third road near the fungus field, right in the middle of the tunnel, that leads to something deeper.

What bothered him was not that there were too many options, as he knew that most of the sewers in the Mage District were the same as those in Westgate, but rather the spore mist from the fungal lamp. He covered his mouth with his hands and ran to the other side, his feet slapping against the stones, making overlapping echoes that seemed to radiate outward throughout the tunnel, no matter how far it extended.

Just as he reached the ramp to the top of the mountain, a rumbling sound in the distance caused him to slip and his elbow landed in pain. This was followed by a rush in the distance, as if the feet of a hundred claws were getting closer and closer.

As he climbed the slope, Weeks poked his fingernails through the narrow gaps between the stones in the wall to keep them from slipping. As he ascended, the fungal lamp retreated again until he reached the second slope, barely visible of the stones beneath his feet. But a distant voice inspired him to keep going, causing him to throw his caution out of the clouds. His nails were ground against the stone, and he hurried towards the place where the sound of the sewage flow called him.

It seemed like a long time, but we just panicked for a few minutes before he reached the top of the second slope. However, his celebration came to an abrupt end as in front of him stood an intact fireplace.

He grabbed the iron railing with his blood-stained and dirty fingers, and shook the entire iron railing with all his strength. Although its grip on the wall seemed loose, it barely moved. The panic was at an all-time high, when the sound of shuffling footsteps could be heard from the other side of the fence, and the noise of claws grabbing people in the distance below grew louder with each passing minute.

Weeks slammed his shoulder into the fence and tried to push it away, but to no avail.

Then, a figure appeared in view, and the dim light from the other side of the tunnel illuminated the figure's back.

"Help me turn this on!" Weeks shouted at what he thought was a group of homeless people in the sewers.

The figure shuffled closer, but didn't seem to be in a hurry.

"Hurry up!"

When they were only a few hands away, Wex finally saw the man in front of him, and a chill hit his body, and his lungs couldn't breathe. He took a few steps back, and suddenly realized that the grid in front of him was more desirable than an obstacle.

The homeless man was closer to the fireplace, his intact eyes staring at Weeks. The left side of his face was swollen and deformed, as if it were clay made by a layman's hand. There was no eyelid in the left eye, and a yellowish-green layer of pus surrounded its bloody, invisible body. It had clumps, square teeth in its mouth, its left leg and arm were surprisingly thick and elongated, and there were scales undulating in every visible part of its skin.

Its twisted, broken nose scented in the air as saliva flowed out of its mouth.

It giggled, drooled again, and said to him, "You've seen—you've seen—he',—— seen—seen—haven't you?" God's divine seed?"

Before Wex could reply, the misshapen tramp grabbed the iron fence with his thick, three-fingered hands that looked like pincers, and with a slight pull, the iron fence was torn off the wall, and the iron fence bent in a loud protest.

Wicks stared suspiciously at the entrance of the cave for a moment, and suddenly, the sound of a ramp behind him was too close to him, and he rushed forward, jumped over the hole in the grid, landed deftly on the smooth stone, and without resting for a moment, rushed through the hellish sewer to the nearest well.

Weeks did glance back and saw that the terrible homeless man was crawling in through the opening in the fence to face the evil that Weeks himself had brought from the depths.

Weeks leaned his back against the uncomfortable burnt clay tiles of the four-story building, letting the sun bake the head-toe-toe dirt as he forced his heart to steady. He pondered the vagabond's cryptic words, wondering if his encounter with the strange boy was what the monster felt. But he quickly dispelled those thoughts.

"Impossible." He muttered to himself.

Moreover, the so-called "ruler below", which is what we usually call the "lower king", is just a rumor. Bedtime horror stories for misbehaving children.

Thousands of expeditions ventured into the hinterland of Helmsgarten, but no one found even the slightest evidence of the creature's existence. It makes much more sense to blame the monsters of the Sewer Kingdom on the foul effects of filth on local wildlife and wayward wanderers. After all, the Eight Sages themselves have said that filth corrupts the souls of those it touches. Weeks also notes that his own situation may well be like this, since he grew up in a slum, and all those noble and holy people live in places where dirty water is not visible in the highest part of the metropolis.

However, if his encounter with this strange boy didn't frighten him, then he was lying to himself, because he felt U

de

ki

G may be more than just an urban legend. After all, his scarlet was a man of unsettling strength and a terrifying face, and the boy himself was covered in robes that Weeks rightly believed to be human flesh. And if that doesn't convince him, the boy has a tail! Tail!

Although Weeks is a thief, he considers himself the most religious person a person in his situation can be, so he is wary of the corrupting influences that this strange boy may have. But then again, if he were really religious, he would exorcise such demons.

But first of all, work. If you treat that kid as an ally, it will be much easier to deal with him. He could then contact his local church to be rewarded for his devotion to the pure saints. Also, it doesn't hurt that he gets the money he gets from the job.

After holding a knife to a servant's throat and pinning him to the wall, Weeks discovers that there is a resident demonist in the mage quarter, and if anyone has demonic blood, it must be a demon researcher.

The servant ran out of the alley, and Weeks walked toward the house he was pointing to: a tall seven-story building near the center of the mage quarter. It's like a strange building because it's one of the few buildings that has survived being built to such heights. It was one of the more peculiar buildings in the area, and it was unlike any other building he had ever seen in the metropolis. It looks like an uneven pile of books, with each floor slightly offset from the center below, forming an almost spiral shape that would have broken the pattern if it weren't for the fact that the two central floors were perfectly stacked on top of each other.

It seemed strange to Weeks that a seven-story building should be allowed to be built, as it was clearly associated with the Seven Sinners. The evil Seven Treasures, the shame of Helmsgarten, the eternal enemy of the ideals of morality and purity, the incarnation of Orem, the Eight Saints, whose worship is everywhere throughout the metropolis, is now the patron saint of the royal family.

He suddenly found that it was not so difficult to justify his raid, which had defiled the city on the land on which it was built. It would be another indoctrination of him for that strange boy and his slaves. Vickers could already imagine the praise of the clergy of the Church for him, and how richly he would be rewarded for his piety.

A smile on his lips as he approaches the Tower of Sin, inside which he will find the materials that the demonologist and the strange boy have coveted.

Considering the peculiar structure of this seven-story building, it was easy for Weeks to climb the first three floors from the outside, and using his well-trained grip, he even climbed to the fourth and fifth floors, which was a departure from the strange pattern of the first floor. As he climbed to the sixth floor, he finally found the entrance to the building he had been looking for: an open window.

Wex hurriedly crawled over, looked at his surroundings, and crouched down. It appears to be a library, and surprisingly, it is connected to the seventh floor, although the location of the floors does not match, meaning that the bookshelves on the seventh floor must be climbed with odd ladders. As he looked around the area closest to him, he vaguely wondered if the other floors were connected in the same way. Building a place for research and experimentation may seem like an almost otherworldly way, but then again, a ghost theologian lives within these walls, so it may not be so far-fetched to believe that such a person was moved.

Even stranger are the floating spheres, which cast a strange purplish-red glow in every corner of the room. He treated them with care, as far away as he could, while they flew around the high library on their predetermined route.

He soon found a strange stone pedestal with a book wrapped in blood-red rags, as if to stop the bleeding in the pages. The thought sent him shudder, but he accepted it anyway and tucked it into a small bag he had picked up in his chair. He found another pedestal on the opposite side of the floor and on top of it, which could only be accessed by climbing up two ladders that looked rickety. The ladder is held up with rope.

On the second pedestal is a book that bears a disturbing resemblance to a boy's robe, but worse still, the front of the book is a man's face and the back is a child's face, as if bound from the skin of the face of a man and his offspring.

Disgusted and angry, Wex gritted his teeth, but put the book in his bag anyway. These strange trinkets may attract the boy and make him add more coins as a reward. Otherwise, he can sell them. For the blasphemous inhabitants of Helmsgarten's underbelly, there is no shortage of disturbing knick-knacks in the western market, so a leather book can sell for a good price regardless of its contents.

Just as he was about to ascend the platform above, he saw a shelf behind a row of bookcases, which contained all kinds of dried meat, animal skins, herbs, indescribable tools, and a pile of half-meter-high terracotta amphorae. The latter immediately caught his attention, and he began to study what liquid they contained.

Two of them appear to have an odorless oil; A man drinks rose-colored wine; Another unpleasant smell of alcohol, which seems to evaporate into gas as soon as the cork is opened; The last two are filled with a viscous tar-like substance that flows like honey.

The last two amphorae emitted a strange smell, like a mixture of damp earth, burnt hair, and astringent copper. Wex carefully dipped his finger in one, and when he pulled it out, it did look exactly what the strange bodyguard had described: black, thick, pungent, and emitted a strange buzzing sound at the touch of it. What's even stranger is that when it covers his finger that had bitten his nail before, the pain in the fingertip disappeared and was replaced by a strange feeling of relief.

He quickly wiped the demon's blood from his trouser legs, covered the amphora, and stuffed them all into his satchel, which was now almost impossible to snap on. His mission is complete, ready to leave before his break-in is discovered. However, he was inexplicably attracted by the third pedestal above. He left his bag on the floor and quickly climbed up the rickety ladder, which was connected by rope to rope.

The air burned in his lungs and he collapsed on the floor in front of the stage, but quickly calmed down to see what books were on it. However, it does not hold a book at all, but a peculiar short sword, the shape of which is chiseled into the top of the stone of the pedestal, making it completely embedded in the stone. With great effort, Wex dug out the blade of the sword, leaving the mark of the hollowed-out weapon.

He reverently held the sword in his hand and sighed contentedly. What a beautiful piece it is: a straight blade, like polished silverware, perfectly reflecting his image; S-shaped cross guardrail; and a half-length handle, wrapped in the softest silk he had ever touched, but firm to hold; Finally, there is the head ring, shaped like a snake, with an open mouth and two glittering gemstone fangs on the roof of the mouth.

As he held the sword, his brain filled with demonic blood, and that strange buzzing sound came back to his head. A feeling of joy and anticipation ensued, flowing through his body like a wave, erasing away his worries and pain. In the distance, he heard a low whisper, but before he could concentrate, a door below suddenly opened, and a man in a crimson robe appeared on the sixth floor below.

Vickers leaned against the railing next to the pedestal, and the entire wall of this floor was filled with tall bookshelves. The newcomer also stared at him, clutching the strap of his satchel in his left hand.

"What do you think you're doing here!" The man shouted, then raised a palm to Weeks.

He moved his sword to his left hand, grabbed the handle of the railing, and was about to jump over to lunge at the man below, but just as his hand grasped the wood, a concentrated beam of light passed through his right hand and the railing, and continued through the wall above, leaving a hole in which the sunlight from outside glistened.

It took a moment for Weeks to realize that where his index finger and thumb should have been, there was now only charred flesh left. As if he didn't feel the disturbing wound, he continued to jump over the railing, from the seventh floor to the sixth floor, holding a mirror-like sword in his left hand, the second light missed, and the third light never came again.

As Wicks landed, there was a terrible crunch, and the blade stabbed into the robed man's forehead, but he didn't bother with the broken toe and shinbone, and quickly stole back his satchel and prepared to leave. However, before he could jump out of the window, he stole the man's crimson robes.

A magnate from the mage quarter strode across the bridge leading to the west gate, and the guards dutifully made way for him, his blood-red hood hanging slightly in thanks.

The man in the robe had not yet reached the point when one of the guards shouted to him.

"You're bleeding, sir!" Sir!" He found the blood stains left by the Governor as he walked by.

Then he turned to his companions, and they made a quick decision, but, before they could catch up, a runaway ox rushed towards them, and there was confusion.

When order was restored, the red-clad governor was nowhere to be seen, except for a few drops of blood on the pebbles.