With the thick fog as cover, Delber strode openly into No. 13 Guta Street.
As a subordinate of that lord, he knew all too well how terrifying this fog was. Not only could it obscure vision, but if his master so wished, it could freeze those trapped within it to death.
The fact that the flames had just been extinguished meant that his master was now serious.
This was good news for him.
At the very least, it would make killing that man much easier.
A sharpshooter in top condition was a deadly threat.
But a sharpshooter whose entire body was frozen stiff? Nothing more than a sitting duck!
Creak!
A sharp noise echoed through the air, the sound of someone stepping on an old, creaky wooden floorboard.
"Second floor!"
Delber immediately locked onto his target, a cold smirk forming on his lips. Using the cover of the fog, he stepped forward toward the second floor.
His gaze went straight to a room in the corner. Unlike the others, whose doors were all wide open and fully exposed, this one was shut tight.
"Panicked, are we?"
Mocking his opponent inwardly, Delber confidently strode toward the room.
It wasn’t arrogance ever since he had become his master's subordinate, he had encountered plenty of opponents just like this. People who thought they were skilled marksmen or competent fighters but panicked the moment they encountered Supernatural power.
And then?
They were easily taken care of.
This Goethe was not the first.
And he certainly wouldn't be the last.
"This is what true power looks like!"
With an air of superiority, Delber moved quietly to the door.
He didn’t stand directly in front of it, nor did he attempt to open it. Instead, he positioned himself to the side and fired multiple shots through the wooden door.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Bullets tore through the wood, sparks flickering inside the room from their impact.
He didn’t stop until his revolver was completely empty. Only then did he pull out another gun and step in front of the door, preparing for another round of shots.
But just then—
Boom!
A deafening explosion blasted the door off its hinges, slamming it into Delber.
Crack! Crack!
The sheer force crushed his ribs as he was thrown from the second floor.
"Cough... cough..."
Blood spurted from Delber’s mouth as he struggled to breathe. Several of his ribs had been broken, but he ignored the pain. Instead, he lifted his head with great effort, eyes fixed on the second-floor room.
He needed to know what had just happened.
Was it a bomb?
Or something else?
But when he finally saw inside the room, he was stunned.
Because... it was a bathroom.
Even though it was now in complete disarray, Delber was certain—it was a bathroom.
And in an instant, a memory flashed through his mind: a news article from two days ago.
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A resident had gone to the bathroom at night, lit a candle, and was blown to pieces when an explosion occurred.
Back then, he had laughed, mocking the person’s stupidity for not ventilating the room.
But now that he was the one in that situation, Delber found himself unable to laugh.
Especially when he saw the barrel of a gun aimed at him.
"Wait, I—"
Bang!
Before he could finish his sentence, Goethe pulled the trigger.
The bullet pierced Delber's forehead. His eyes widened in disbelief as he fell lifelessly to the ground.
Goethe exhaled deeply, as if the encounter had drained his strength. Standing there catching his breath, he failed to notice the blade silently emerging from the fog behind him.
The weapon glinted dully, hidden under layers of cloth, making no sound as it approached his back.
Then—
Clang!
A sharp metallic clash rang out as the attack was blocked. Goethe remained unscathed.
In one fluid motion, he turned and flung his hand outward.
A fine white mist suddenly filled the air.
It was... flour.
Within the cloud of dust, a shadow appeared, someone covered in the powder, their wide eyes filled with shock.
They had never expected their perfect strike to fail.
Then, his nose itched, and his eyes stung...
Achoo!
With a loud sneeze, the man lurched forward.
Pepper!
There was pepper mixed in with the flour!
Of course, that wasn’t the most important thing. The key point was that at this moment, Goethe had already picked up the revolver Delber had dropped.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The shadow in the mist tried to dodge, but with less than seven steps between them, there was no time to escape.
Blood bloomed across the man’s body.
Then, he collapsed.
As he fell, the mist instantly dissipated.
But Goethe didn’t step forward immediately. Instead, he fired three more shots—one to the chest, another to the other side, and the last to the forehead.
Afterward, he calmly reached for the bullet belt on Delber’s body, reloaded the revolver, and fired three more shots at the fallen figure.
Only then, after confirming the man was truly dead, did Goethe dare to approach.
When dealing with the unknown, one could never be too careful.
So, instead of touching the corpse directly, he used a broken door plank nearby to prod the body.
The plank wasn’t the most convenient tool, but it was long enough to keep a safe distance.
Throughout the process, Goethe kept his gun raised, ready to fire at the slightest sign of movement.
The dead man had an ordinary face, wore unremarkable clothing, and wasn’t particularly strong. His fingers were smooth, with no calluses someone who would blend into a crowd without drawing any attention.
"Did someone like this really wield such Supernatural power?"
Doubt crept into Goethe’s mind.
And at that moment—
"No need to doubt."
"He was the one using the mist-concealing ability."
"However..."
"He was merely an apprentice."
A voice sounded from the doorway.
Goethe immediately raised his revolver.
Standing at the entrance of No. 13 Guta Street was a man dressed in a black tailcoat over a crisp white shirt.
Facing the barrel of Goethe’s gun, the man calmly adjusted his neatly layered lapels, then removed his hat with a gentlemanly grace and gave a courteous bow.
"Good evening, Mr. Goethe. My name is Morey."
"I specialize in handling matters like these in Lustre."
"Also..."
"Nice armor."
Introducing himself, Morey nodded approvingly at Goethe.
Seeing that he had been seen through, Goethe no longer bothered pretending. He took off his coat.
Beneath it, two frying pans were strapped to his chest and back, acting as makeshift armor.
Holding his coat in one hand, Goethe lowered his gun.
Not because he trusted Morey’s words immediately, but because he had noticed Swart running up from behind him with a flattering smile plastered on his face.
The sheriff was bent over, grinning like a chrysanthemum.
Even though the wet stain on his trousers was clearly visible.
Noticing Goethe’s gaze, Swart didn’t even flinch as he explained, “I rolled into a puddle while dodging an attack just now. Accidentally got wet.”
Goethe chuckled, not believing a word.
He knew full well what had happened.
But at that moment, his attention returned to the man calling himself Morey.
Under Goethe’s gaze, Morey reached into his coat and pulled out a pocket watch. He glanced at the time, frowned, and after a brief two-second pause, finally spoke—
"We have a little time left, just enough to discuss a few things..."
"Do you understand your current situation?"
Then, without waiting for Goethe’s reply, Morey continued in a rapid-fire manner, as if racing against the clock.
"Your situation is rather complicated. Normally, your memory of tonight would be erased—"
"Of course, memory erasure isn’t without side effects. In the coming years, or perhaps even longer, you’d suffer from insomnia, loss of appetite, memory lapses, emotional instability, and general mental decline. But at least... you’d still be alive."
"However, you just killed that guy’s apprentice. He will definitely come after you for revenge!"
"Fortunately, I happen to be hunting him down. But he’s like a rat in the sewers, cunning, vicious, and an expert at hiding."
"So..."
"I need bait!"
"And you, Mr. Goethe, is the perfect bait!"