Tova Street.
Sibar Tavern.
"That damn tailor, hasn't he brought his daughter for medicine yet today?" A plump pig-headed orc reclined in a chair, his deep voice asking.
Beside him, two human girls who looked only eight or nine years old were massaging his shoulders and legs, fear evident in their eyes.
"Yeah, boss, that tailor hasn't come to buy medicine for two days. Could it be... he's already dead?" A dog-headed orc, resembling a bartender, said.
"Dead?" Sibar sat up, a smirk appearing on his face. "That's a possibility. This old man can't handle withdrawal symptoms. If he's not dead, he would have come begging by now. His daughter is so charming. Tonight, go to his house and bring her to me."
"But what if he's not dead..."
"Then let him die. A worthless dead tailor, the only thing of value left is his daughter." Sibar reached out and caressed the face of the little girl beside him, his smile becoming more sinister.
"Boss, I understand." The dog-headed orc nodded in understanding.
...
Night fell, and the Abyss shrouded in darkness became eerily silent.
Occasionally, the roar of monsters could be heard from above the Abyss, instilling fear in people's hearts.
Intermittent screams and shouts added a dangerous touch to the night.
In the clinic's main hall, Charlotte looked at the wooden cages he had built with satisfaction.
Ten shoebox-sized wooden cages were arranged in two rows, with a small door in the same direction and iron bars for easy observation.
Each cage housed a small white mouse, most of which huddled in the corners, trembling.
"Hey, which one is Jerry?" Charlotte rubbed his chin, lost in thought.
"They all look the same. It's hard to tell," Vivian approached and carefully observed the small white mice in the cages.
At that moment, Anna jumped onto the cages and tapped the second one. Looking at the expressions on Charlotte's and Vivian's faces, she seemed to be watching foolish humans.
"This one?" Charlotte leaned closer and took a careful look. Indeed, this particular small white mouse was slightly fatter than the others, indicating that it had been well-fed at the clinic these days.
Charlotte and Vivian both gave a thumbs-up to Anna simultaneously.
Charlotte moved Jerry to the first cage in the front row and waved his hand. "From now on, they will be called Jerry No. 1, Jerry No. 2, Jerry..."
"Boss, your naming is too random," Vivian complained.
"Names are just codes; they won't mind," Charlotte said, moving the cages to an empty room on the second floor, temporarily turning it into a laboratory.
"It's getting late. You should wash up and rest," Charlotte told Vivian and then closed the bedroom door with a bang.
He changed his loose casual robe into a tight black suit, fastening the sleeves and pant legs with straps to prevent any mishaps at critical moments.
Taking a piece of black cloth, when Charlotte picked up the scissors, he hesitated.
Should he cut it into a triangular bandage to cover his mouth or cut it into a long strip with two eye holes to cover his face?
Traditional techniques should not be discarded. In the end, Charlotte simply folded the cloth into a triangular bandage and covered the lower half of his face.
Then, Charlotte put on the Judge's black robe, pulled up the hood, and carried the Judgment Sword, concealing it beneath the ample black robe.
Unfortunately, there was no mirror in the room; otherwise, Charlotte would have loved to admire his appearance.
Fully armed, Charlotte opened the window slightly and carefully observed the movements outside.
Tonight was unexpectedly quiet, with no orcs causing trouble. The long street was shrouded in persistent darkness, and only the scattered oil lamps hanging in front of a few shops resembled the eyes of beasts in the mist.
After waiting for a while, Charlotte slowly opened the window, propped himself up on the windowsill, and gracefully descended to the ground like a nimble cat. He closed the window behind him.
As soon as his feet touched the ground, he lightly stepped forward and entered the alley next to the clinic.
The street of the Abyss was not limited to the two rows of houses on the main street. Each street had numerous alleys, and most of the residents lived in these unknown alleys. There were also a few shops that couldn't afford the high rent on the main street and chose to open in the alleys.
Charlotte sprinted along the alley, consciously practicing the flash of inspiration he had learned in the mysterious space. This open space was more suitable for practicing footwork.
He tapped his right foot on the ground, and his body suddenly shot forward. Accompanied by a blurred figure, he crossed a distance of five meters in a single step, instantly appearing in front of the locust tree at the mouth of the alley.
Charlotte gripped the sword handle in his hand, resisting the impulse to draw the sword in one swift motion.
Now, he was completely certain that all the training in the mysterious space had been imprinted in his body, and there was no need for further practice.
The countless life-and-death battles, beheading hundreds and thousands of heads, had earned him valuable combat experience.
His martial skills had no flashy techniques; they were true killing techniques.
Taking a deep breath, Charlotte once again concealed himself in the darkness and headed toward Tovards Tova Street.
Compared to Baka Street, Tova Street appeared much livelier.
Bonfires were lit in various places on the street, and magic potion peddlers openly sold their potions, both on the main street and in the flowing alleys, day and night without rest.
In the dark corners of the street and the alleys, addicts lay everywhere.
Some had quietly died, while others, in the throes of withdrawal, had no money to buy magic potions and were painfully banging their heads against the walls.
No one pitied them because they were already too preoccupied with their troubles.
Even before they died, some people would come forward and strip them of their belongings. Even a tattered piece of clothing would be taken clean.
Charlotte concealed himself in the shadow of a stone pillar, watching an orc approaching with an oil lamp in hand from not far away.
He had just been to this alley earlier today, and he had already familiarized himself with the escape routes. Once he succeeded, he would ensure he could leave immediately.
At the entrance of the distant alley stood two Black Magic Guards, responsible for protecting the potions from being snatched away by those who had lost their sanity.
Tova Street had been operated by the Jadeson family for many years and was under the control of the Black Magic Guards. Incidents of potion robbery rarely occurred, and few addicts had a chance to escape from the guards. Once caught, they would suffer a fate worse than death.
So the orc responsible for selling the potions had a box hanging in front of him, displaying dozens of bottles of potions. He held an oil lamp in one hand and hummed a tune as he strolled through the alley.
Occasionally, when a resident opened the door to purchase potions if their payment was too slow, they would be subjected to a barrage of insults. The scolded residents didn't dare to retort and would hurriedly retreat with their potions, keeping their heads down.
The pouch hanging from the orc's waist was heavy with money. He became even more pleased with himself, and his tune became more cheerful.
At that moment, a shaky figure approached him. A low and trembling voice said, "Buy... buy potions..."
"Old man, hurry up or I won't sell them to you," the orc stood still, his face full of mockery.
The figure stumbled and reached him, and from the footsteps and hunched posture, it seemed to be an old man. He fumbled in his black robe as if searching for money.
The orc raised the lamp in his hand and caught a glimpse of the person's face covered with a black cloth under the hood. He froze instantly.
The newcomer didn't take out any money; instead, he extended a black longsword.
Just as dark as the night.