Two weeks later
Guard Barracks, Arsenic City
The chamber smelled faintly of boiled onions and old parchment, though no one dared to speak of it. Two men sat across from one another in the candlelit gloom of the captain's office, hunched like conspirators.
Lord Elric Dane, ruler of Arsenic City, a man who once routed bandits and quelled a rebellion, now looked like a tax collector faced with a dragon. Across from him sat Vollen, the Captain of the Guard, whose helmet sat forgotten on the table beside a cup of untouched tea.
"So," Elric began cautiously, "what is the current state of the… guest?"
Vollen rubbed his eyes. "Relaxed. Almost worryingly so."
Elric blinked. "You mean the black-armored giant who melted a merchant's stall by sitting too close to the lanterns?"
"He's been walking the streets," Vollen said, "browsing vegetables, feeding stray cats, and—today, I kid you not—teaching children how to throw knives at apples. From a distance. With terrifying accuracy."
Elric let out a long, weary breath. "And the imposters?"
"We've caught five thus far. Most couldn't conjure a spark if you set their robes aflame. All of them pretending to be 'the one who banished the Abyss,' though none could even lift a sword properly."
"And spies?"
Vollen spread his hands. "None we can confirm. But too many cloaked travelers with 'innocent scholarly interest' have been arriving. The inns are full of eyes."
Lord Elric's voice dropped to a whisper. "So, let me understand: we have the Abyss Killer in our city, playing street juggler… surrounded by spies from nations that have long since forgotten diplomacy… and we're the poor fools responsible for keeping the peace?"
Vollen sighed. "Not to add to your burden, sire, but…" He slid a parchment across the table. "I'd like to formally resign."
"Why?!"
"I fear him."
"...So do I."
A long silence passed between them, broken only by the sound of a goat bleating somewhere outside.
Next Day
Elric and Vollen decided—foolishly—to take matters into their own hands. Disguised in humble cloaks, they spent the day trailing Kalem through the city.
They began at dawn, watching him emerge from the Bottled Ember Inn.
He bought bread. Not the expensive kind. Crusty street bread.
"See how he tears it with one hand?" Elric whispered. "That bread has the density of brick. He didn't even wince."
"Look at the way the baker bows," Vollen noted. "He fears him… but also gave him a cinnamon roll for free."
Kalem wandered toward the market square. There, he paused to inspect a potter's stall, lifting a glazed jug with the delicacy of a noblewoman handling glass.
"Wait—why is he haggling?" Elric asked. "He ended the Abyss! He could take the jug!"
"Apparently, he prefers fair trade."
Later, they watched him sitting beneath the Fountain of Thrice-Blessed Waters, tossing knives underhand into a stump he had dragged there from the firewood cart.
Children gathered. Some cheered. One tried to imitate the throw and nearly impaled a fishmonger's barrel.
"Is this… some twisted recruitment?" Elric hissed.
"No," Vollen muttered, "he just corrected the boy's grip and gave him a lesson in blade balance."
By midday, they had followed Kalem into a bookshop, out of the bookshop, to a tailor, and finally to a roof, where he sat motionless for an hour, just staring at the sky.
"We've watched madmen," Vollen whispered. "None behaved like this."
"Maybe he's just… tired," Elric offered.
"Or biding his time."
Their 'disguise' nearly fell apart when Kalem suddenly turned his head toward their hiding spot in the alley. They froze, breath held.
Kalem simply looked at the clouds again, then leaned back and yawned.
"...He knows we're following him," Vollen croaked.
"Yes."
"And he doesn't care."
"No."
"Should we stop?"
"Yes."
They fled.
That Night – Arsenic City's North Gate
The road to Arsenic was quiet at night. Most travelers avoided it after dusk, fearing both beasts and bandits.
So when a lone rider approached, the gate guards straightened.
The figure dismounted calmly, a tall man clad in traveling leathers and a cloak worn by distance, not fashion. His voice was level.
"Evening. My name is Garrick. I'm a historian. Hoping to pass through and perhaps gather some tales."
The older guard nodded. "Another scholar, eh? You'll find plenty of strange tales in Arsenic these days."
Garrick tilted his head. "Ah? And why is that?"
"You've not heard?" the younger guard asked, blinking. "The Abyss Killer's in town."
Garrick frowned faintly. "Truly? I thought that was just tavern talk."
"Well, it's true. And… word of advice? If you value your limbs, don't try asking him too many questions. Or selling him anything. Or looking at him for too long. Or—"
"Thank you," Garrick cut in with a polite nod. "I'll be careful."
As he entered the gate, the younger guard whispered to the older, "You don't think he's another imposter, do you?"
"No," the elder muttered, watching Garrick's gait vanish into the city mist, "that one walks like a man with purpose."