Chapter 507 - 474: Morne Gore

Chapter 507: Chapter 474: Morne Gore

"Is that... a fire?"

Roland’s question wasn’t born from unfamiliarity with fire itself, but from the scene before him.

Even though the distant sky was stained an ominous orange-red and thick smoke rose like a great pillar, the pedestrians on the narrow street they occupied maintained a bizarre "normalcy."

People would only glance up occasionally in that direction, their gazes a mixture of worry, numbness, and even a hint of fatalistic acceptance, before lowering their heads again to continue on their way or get back to their work.

There was no panicked flight, no gathering to gossip. It was as if the disaster illuminating the skyline was just another insignificant backdrop to a dull day.

Roland frowned, pulling his gaze from the distant blaze and letting it fall upon the endless stream of people around him.

Only then did he realize that the most shocking difference between the Lower City District and the Upper City District wasn’t just the squat, dilapidated buildings or the foul air, but...

The people.

In the streets of the Upper City District, most of the pedestrians were well-dressed members of races deemed acceptable by mainstream society.

Humans, Elves, Dwarfs, and the occasional Beastman or Half-Elf of distinguished bearing.

But the Lower City District...

It was a bizarre and dazzling melting pot of races.

Or rather, a sanctuary for the "others" who had been driven into the shadows.

"Are those... Demons?"

Avril’s voice was tinged with tension, her eyes fixed on several figures leaning against a corner, conversing in low tones.

Their skin ranged in color from deep red to purplish-black. Faint embers or frost seemed to cling to the tips of their horns and tails.

"Not Demons. They should be called... Tieflings? The descendants of mortal bloodlines intertwined with the fiendish power of the Nine Prisons. Look over there..."

Galvis lowered his voice, indicating with a slight lift of his chin.

"In the shadows of that alley, there are two cowering Ratmen—not victims of lycanthropy, the natural-born kind. I’ve only ever seen those things on a small island... Hey! That shadow that just flitted across the rooftop, was that a Bird Demon with an incomplete wingspan? Or some kind of half-breed?"

Ignoring the Minstrel’s astonished voice, Bronson narrowed his eyes, recording everything before him like a scanner.

"Goblins, Kobolds... even a few Half-beastmen and... is that a Half-Ogre? My gods, that Race is so rarely documented in the ancient texts, they actually exist?"

Just then, a deep voice spoke up.

"And Gray Dwarfs..."

Duraga’s breathing grew heavy, and he slowly clenched his fists.

But it wasn’t out of anger. It was a complex, oppressive feeling, something akin to commiseration.

Roland, however, said nothing, merely watching the scene in silence.

This place was like a "zone of racial impurity" and a "shelter for social outcasts," deliberately hidden beneath Silver Radiance City’s polished veneer of Order.

All the races and individuals considered "indecent," "difficult to manage," "a potential threat," or "of low value" in the Upper City District seemed to have been driven, contained, or allowed to gather in this bottom-rung region, where the sun could hardly reach, by some invisible, systematic force.

"Duraga..."

Having spent some time with the Gray Dwarf leader, Roland already understood his obsession with saving his people.

But now was definitely not the time for that.

So he gently patted the other man’s shoulder, pulling his thoughts back from his kinsmen.

"Look at that fire. It’s not that simple."

Roland raised his hand, pointing at the still-menacing blaze on the horizon as he took a deep breath.

The bizarre, burnt smell in the air—a mix of sickly sweet and acrid stenches—still clung stubbornly to everything, like a maggot on a bone, irritating the depths of his sinuses.

This was definitely not the smell of an ordinary fire.

"Remember that short article in the paper?"

Roland’s gaze swept over his companions.

"’Fire breaks out in the Lower City District, cause under investigation,’ and ’Third unnatural fire this month’... adding the one we’re looking at now, this is probably the fourth."

He kept his voice low, but on the noisy yet listless street, it was remarkably clear.

"No matter how much the Upper City considers the Lower City District to be ’marginalized’ or even a ’wasteland,’ it is still ultimately a part of Silver Radiance City."

"Would a city that prides itself on ’perfect Order’ and ’advanced administration’ stand by and watch a district suffer a series of fires of unknown origin in a short period without a thorough investigation and forceful intervention? It’s illogical. Unless..."

"Unless the fire itself, or the reason behind it, is something they don’t want investigated too deeply—something they might even be condoning or... actively covering up."

Avril picked up where he left off, her thoughts seamlessly connecting with Roland’s deduction.

"So..."

Roland nodded, his gaze sharp.

"This fire is a festering sore hidden beneath a polished surface. It might also be the key to breaking this temporal deadlock. We need to go take a look."

Their objective was clear, their doubts temporarily suppressed.

The group hesitated no longer, moving quickly toward the most intense concentration of fire and smoke.

The path to the fire was far more winding than they had anticipated, and far more...

...blatant in its exposure of the rot festering beneath Silver Radiance City’s splendid facade.

The buildings grew even more squat and dilapidated, the path underfoot alternating between muddy dirt tracks and cracked, unrepaired flagstones.

Sewage flowed sluggishly through ditches, gleaming with a suspicious, oily sheen.

The state of the residents was even more alarming.

Apathy was the overriding theme here.

A skeletal old man of an indiscernible race sat dazedly under the eaves, oblivious to several enormous, mutated rats gnawing on something unidentifiable at the corner of the wall.