Monster Evolution System: I became a Rat-Chapter 73: A Village in far corner

Before the vast sky, the cohort beheld an innumerable landscape stretching endlessly before them. Within it lay the faint visage of a small cluster of buildings. They were rudimentary and plain in construction, far removed from the grand structures of the Mist City, which remained locked in another realm, unknown to any how long it had existed there.

Still, it was a sight they had longed for.

Katrina wept openly. "I am finally free."

Fea remained silent, yet her expression spoke more than words ever could.

The crewmen and James embraced one another in joy, laughing and shouting as they jumped, gripping each other’s arms as if afraid the moment might slip away.

Rosacer withheld any outward display of emotion, yet within him surged a quiet rush of joy and relief. The pressure that had weighed upon his heart began to ease as the distance between them and the Tombs of the Heroes steadily grew.

In his mind, he formed a hypothesis for the oppressive sensation he had felt within the tomb. The Mask of the Pharaoh, fused into his suit, might have been the cause. Perhaps the remnants of power lingering in the tomb had recognized the Mask and reacted to it, attempting to resist or oppose it. It was, he concluded, a plausible explanation.

Before he could dwell further on the thought, the Captain’s voice roared across the group.

"You don’t have to follow me anymore," he declared, addressing his crewmen.

It was evident. Most of them had sailed for the sake of the journey itself. They had never been a permanent crew. Many had learned to sail only weeks ago.

After brief farewells were exchanged, the group slowly dispersed. Some headed toward the village, others toward the road.

Fea and Katrina chose neither.

The Captain, his former crewmen, and Rosacer who moved toward the village. Rosacer, too, longed for rest.

Fea felt safer within the forest, alone. As for Katrina, a vampire remaining among humans would only invite danger.

The Captain and his crew were themselves mutated, their appearances barely normal. Unaware of how they might be perceived, they still chose to seek aid in the village.

Rosacer followed quietly behind them.

James turned back, his eyes red and glistening. "We made it, old man."

Tears streamed down his face as his lips quivered. "We finally made it... thank you, old man."

The Captain now explained the map and the route Rosacer had provided. One by one, the crewmen turned toward him, their eyes filled with admiration and gratitude.

One of them stepped forward, attempting to support him on the walk to the village.

Rosacer refused.

The village revealed itself gradually as they drew closer. Low wooden houses stood scattered along a dirt road, their roofs patched with old tiles and dried straw. Thin trails of smoke rose from chimneys, curling into the open sky.

The sky was the most beautiful sight of all, clear with patches of clouds scattered in between. The sweet, warm rays of the sun touched them gently, soothing as if the sun were massaging them with its warmth. And unlike the cold winds and foggy days in the Mist City, this place was filled with a sense of love for them.

"I’m throwing these damned vials away," one of the sailors muttered, opening his satchel and pulling out several glass vials filled with the sleepless potion.

Before he could cast them aside, James caught his wrist.

"Wait. We might be able to sell them in the village."

"Sell them?" another sailor scoffed. "Why would anyone here need this? We can sleep without worry now."

"What’s the harm in trying?" the Captain said, glancing at the vials. "An empty satchel won’t bring you much joy."

He did not say what lingered in his thoughts. That he, too, despised the potions. The bitter liquid they had been forced to drink to keep their eyes open, night after night. The taste alone reminded him of the Mist City, of fear and endless vigilance.

But with nothing to trade, it made more sense to keep all options open.

The sailor hesitated, then slowly returned the vials to his satchel.

Rosacer watched in silence.

Lost in his own thoughts now that they were out of danger, his mind wandered back to his choice to seek revenge and leave without her—Elizabeth. He hadn’t changed a bit since their time in the mist village; he was still the same cowardly, selfish bastard.

As the group drew closer, the village slowly revealed itself. It was modest and behind the times, where children played with sticks and stones, women worked patiently at wooden looms, and elders moved about with canes in hand. One by one, the villagers turned to look at the approaching group, their expressions distant and stunned by the sight of them.

The Captain raised a hand in reassurance, his stance unwavering.

"We’re travelers," he said in a calm, steady voice. "We lost our caravan... There was a bandit attack on us..."

The villagers exchanged glances.

The uneasiness could be felt in both sides.

The villagers’ eyes lingered with caution as they took in twisted limbs, skin folded by mutation, and faces molded into inhuman shapes.

Yet to surprise, no one raised a weapon.

After a moment, a middle-aged man stepped forward. His clothes were plain, his hands rough with labor.

"You can stay the night," he said carefully. "But you cause no trouble."

The Captain nodded once.

That was enough.

They were led to the edge of the village, where empty sheds and unused storehouses stood.

It wasn’t exactly hospitality, but it was a shelter. The exhausted sailors needed rest, so there was neither choice nor desire to complain.

The crew accepted it with gratitude.

Rosacer remained quiet, observing.

Just as the last villager stepped out of the shed, he turned toward James, who shared the space with him.

"What will you do now?" he asked.

James answered without turning back.

"I will travel. The whole world, I think. I want to see everything this world has to offer."

Then he asked in return, "What about you, old man?"

Rosacer grumbled softly, his voice low and heavy. "I do not know. I think I have already lost myself."

"Well, you will figure it out," James said calmly. "You were the one who told us about the whirlpool. Also, anyone cannot be lost forever."

He continued preparing the shed for sleep. Inside, there was a single bed meant for two.

After a moment of silence, Rosacer spoke again, almost to himself.

"Do you think I could liberate the Mist City from the Dungeon?"

It was meant as a rhetorical question, but James’s ears caught it. He turned sharply, eyes wide with astonishment.

He stepped closer, his extra limbs swaying awkwardly, movements he still could not fully control."Can you do that?" he asked, his voice unsteady, something fierce burning behind his eyes.

Rosacer lowered his head and shook it slowly.

"It is all right," James said quietly. "I wish it could happen too. But it seems impossible."

He turned back toward his bed.

Then he spoke again, his voice still filled with fire.

"I think you should still move forward for that wish. For someone like me, it is impossible. But people like you find a way. You always do. Just like when you saved us from drowning ourselves in the sea."

Rosacer didn’t replied, he chose to stay silent.

After resting, the group ventured out into the village. Most of them moved with hesitation. Only the Captain and Rosacer appeared outwardly normal, though even that was debatable. The Captain’s towering height alone made him imposing, his presence enough to unsettle the villagers.

So it was the Captain and Rosacer who went ahead, intending to speak with the locals and gather information.

They entered a small tavern near the center of the village. Inside, food and beer flowed freely. The air was thick with noise and warmth. Waiters and waitresses moved between tables, serving villagers and several outsiders who stood out immediately.

These strangers wore armor.

It wasn’t battered travel gear but well-kept armor, worn even inside the tavern as though they had no intention of taking it off. Their stance was easy, yet watchful.

Among them sat a man with golden hair and blue eyes. He looked handsome, almost regal, his presence commanding attention without effort. He raised his voice toward a villager serving him.

"So," he said casually, "where did you keep the monsters that arrived in your village today?"

The villager was a thin, balding man. His hands trembled as he bowed slightly.

"Sir, at the edge of the village," he replied, voice quivering. "Near the buffer zone, where the animals hunt."

The golden-haired man glanced toward his companions. None of them seemed interested.

He turned back to the villager.

"Do you want us to take care of them?"

The villager answered immediately, words spilling out in haste.

"They have not caused any trouble, sir. And I believe they will leave soon. We are not even providing them with food or water."

At that moment, the tavern door opened.

Rosacer and the Captain stepped inside.

The villager’s eyes flickered toward them, fear flashing across his face before he could suppress it.

The golden-haired man noticed at once.

"What is it?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.

The villager swallowed, then spoke truthfully.

"It is them," he said, pointing toward Rosacer and the Captain.