Monster Evolution System: I became a Rat-Chapter 100: Elias-Ashmole

In the dark of night, a shadow shifted in an unnatural manner as a man stepped out of it, his face completely hidden. It was unnerving. His movements were subtle, his eyes almost artistic.

A flame flickered in the darkness, pale as death itself, and from it emerged another figure, just a meter away from the shadowed man.

Stepping out of the pale green flame, Rosacer cried out to the shadowed figure, "Gringha, where is she?" 𝑓𝑟ℯ𝘦𝓌𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝑐ℴ𝓂

Gringha replied, "She is coming."

He paused for a second, then asked instead, "You, mage?"

Rosacer did not reply.

The silence between them became awkward and heavy.

Amara finally emerged from the darkness as well. She held two pouches in her hands, carefully trying not to jiggle whatever lay inside them.

As she came closer, she tossed the pouches toward Gringha and Rosacer. "Here!"

Without letting the pouches hit the floor, they each caught the one nearest to them.

"Count it. They are exact!" she called out, crossing her arms as she waited.

Gringha did not check. He merely tossed the pouch a couple of times before slipping it inside his cloak. Rosacer, however, opened his to inspect its contents, then began counting them on the spot.

When he finished, he turned toward Amara and gave a confirming nod.

Amara finally heaved a sigh of relief.

She continued, "Luckily, nobody is on to us right now. But both of you must leave this city as soon as possible. The security forces will be hiring investigators from outside."

She turned toward the darkness and, with a silent step, called out, "For the next job, I will contact you in Elias-Ashmole-Land."

As she spoke, she disappeared back into the shadows.

Without delay, Gringha turned to Rosacer. "The land of alchemy. We had better pack up before we leave."

Rosacer replied, "I still have some work left here."

Gringha scoffed. "It is too late to reconsider running."

"Now that outsiders are involved, we do not stand a chance if we remain in the city during the investigation. It will be a miracle if they do not track us all the way to Elias-Ashmole City."

Rosacer did not argue further.

He left Gringha beneath the thinning veil of night and took the narrow streets alone. The city had begun its slow descent into dawn. Lamps guttered. Bakers opened shutters. A few early merchants dragged carts across the cobblestones, aware that their streets were already under quiet siege by fear.

The library stood at the far end of Scholar’s Row.

With snake-like glass covering its surface, the light, if it had fallen, would have given it a serpentine, coiling look.

Rosacer pushed the heavy door inward.

The familiar scent of dust and old parchment greeted him.

The librarian, still awake and engrossed in his book, barely noticed as Rosacer passed by and headed up the stairs to the upper floor.

Near the arched window stood Eren, hunched over a ledger. His unnaturally white hair fluttered, as though a window had been opened to let the breeze in.

Eren did not look up.

"You are early," he said calmly.

"I need information," Rosacer replied.

"That’s something new," Eren said, laughing.

Rosacer stepped closer. "Elias-Ashmole City. Or Elias-Ashmole-Land. What do you know?"

That made Eren pause.

He lifted his gaze slowly. "That’s easy."

"Somehow, now you’re just looking for something normal," he added.

Eren studied him for a moment longer, then closed the ledger with deliberate care. "Follow me."

They moved through a corridor Rosacer had rarely entered, past locked cabinets and restricted collections. Eren stopped before a shelf marked with a faded brass plate: Transmutative Histories.

He pulled down a thick volume bound in cracked green leather.

"Elias-Ashmole," Eren began, setting the book on a reading table. "Originally a settlement founded by practitioners of proto-chemical studies. Alchemists, if you prefer the romantic term."

Rosacer flipped the cover open.

Inside were maps, diagrams of strange apparatus, and sketches of towers built in circular formations.

"It was a city as well as a testing ground," Eren continued. "Many experiments took place there, in a place where laws were more flexible for enthusiasts."

"And little for the poor folks that settled there."

"What about their governance?" Rosacer asked.

"The Council of Crucibles. Seven seats. Each held by a master of a different discipline. They valued secrecy above all else."

Rosacer traced a finger along a map. The city was isolated, surrounded by marshland and low hills. Only two main routes led in or out.

"Why do they call it the Land of Alchemy?" he asked, studying the map.

Eren adjusted his collar. "Because Alchemy might not have been born there, but it certainly flourished there."

Rosacer looked up. "Have you been there?"

Eren’s lips curved in a faint smile. "I’ve only read about it. Not much of a traveler."

He turned a few pages.

"There were rumors," he continued, voice lower now, "that Elias-Ashmole was built upon an older foundation. Something predating recorded history. An underground network of chambers."

"For what purpose?"

"For corruption maybe."

Rosacer’s eyes sharpened. "Corruption?"

Eren closed the book softly.

"Dark Messiah’s descent."

A silence hung between them.

"What does a deity’s descent have to do with corruption?" Rosacer asked.

"I don’t know, it’s more of a rumor that this ancient deity once tried to change the world order so he could come into existence from non-existence, leaving behind his unimaginable world."

Rosacer’s expression darkened.

"Are there still remnants of this ancient deity?"

"Nope, it was just a rumor born from some mythical tales told around the campfire," Eren finished.

"There were never any traces, only tales of what was happening. A sculptor from the East was their leader, and he carved tunnels and statues in the hope of succeeding in bringing about the descent of the dark messiah."

Rosacer stepped back from the table.

"Sculptor," he said quietly. "Who was the sculptor?"

Eren considered the question carefully.

"From the east," he said at last. "A man came, dejected from life, looking almost non-human. But soon, his artistic flair won the hearts of the West and many others. He began to heal, regaining his lost happiness, and his art reflected it—at least sometimes it did."

"While his stay in the Royal Ernest Empire, something unusual occurred, and the blame fell on him. From that moment, he carved a new path for himself, aligning with a God—perhaps a being from a place even Gods feared to tread. Armed with hidden knowledge, The Sculptor transformed and waged war against anything that crossed his path. But in the end, the combined might of the Blackened Sun Emperor and the Royal Ernest Bastard Prince brought down the forces of the unknown God, defeating them at last in the capital of Wehenmer."

Eren, as if realizing something mid-thought, added, "Also, this was the same time a new Nightmare God appeared, Colossus Mikhrown."

Rosacer gave a faint, humorless smile.

"I was headed to Elias Ashmole."

Eren’s gaze sharpened slightly. "You are leaving."

"It seems so."

"But I’ll be back—the seal hasn’t been broken yet."

Rosacer turned toward the exit.

"I’m not sure when I’ll be back," he said. "So, maybe expect an early return."

As he reached the door, Eren spoke once more.

"Rosacer."

He paused but did not turn.

"In Elias-Ashmole, everyone is an enemy, and without some sort of background, you’re never really safe. Be careful who you trust, especially if they seem a little too kind for your own good."

Rosacer inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment and stepped back into the waking city.

The sun had risen fully now.

Gringha seemed to know Rosacer would be coming back from the library, so he waited at the entrance. As Rosacer came into view, he extended his arm and said, "Let’s move, partner."

"The time has come."

The library’s glass reflected the light like the coils of a moving snake.

Rosacer’s eyes drifted toward them, flaring as he thought of the Elias-Ashmole—hiding the information he had been seeking for ages: the coming of the Dark Messiah, why he had been chosen as his blessed after the Sculptor, and the true identity of this mysterious Sculptor.

He pledged inwardly that he would hunt down the maker of his destiny, and the wound the thread of fate binding them. Turning his gaze back to Gringha, who waited for him, he offered a faint smile before stepping forward.

"Huh?" Gringha looked puzzled, but then he went on. "Weird guy."

In the hazy, darkened city, thick with grime and oil, the scent of machinery hung heavy. An alchemist bustled about inside his lab, surrounded by herbs and the taxidermy of various animals. A furnace-like heating machine clattered and roared, making the alchemist hesitant to approach—yet at last, he did.

As the lid of the scorching furnace creaked open, something molten within shifted and twitched, as though returning to life.

The alchemist cried out as the thing before him began to move. "I did it, Victor!"

"I did it...."