Monster Evolution System: I became a Rat-Chapter 85: Daybreak

Morning’s gentle light fluttered against Rosacer’s eyelids, forcing them open in reluctant surrender. He winced and rubbed his eyes with the heel of his palms before letting out a quiet breath.

"Morning," he muttered as he pushed himself upright.

He had slept well. Too well. His body felt light, his mind clear, and for a fleeting moment, he almost felt fulfilled. The sensation unsettled him more than exhaustion ever had.

Rosacer summoned his inventory. The familiar list unfolded before his eyes, faint and translucent. The carving knife seal pulsed dully, its hunger unresolved. It still required a sacrifice.

"I should probably check the traps on the way," he murmured.

He rose slowly, scanning the campsite. Nothing had been disturbed. No footprints. No broken branches. The mountain remained silent, watching. He turned toward the rising sun, its warmth brushing his face, then checked his inventory once more. The foxtail herb rested safely within.

With a flick of his wrist, space folded.

Rosacer reappeared beside the small shop where he had purchased the traps. The sudden displacement made passersby flinch, but no one challenged him. He crouched, retrieving the traps with practiced efficiency. One rat still twitched weakly inside.

Without hesitation, he crushed its neck and pressed the body against the carving knife seal. The sigil drank greedily, its dull glow sharpening for a moment before settling back into dormancy.

"One down," Rosacer whispered.

He left the rest of the traps untouched and headed straight for the Adventurer’s Guild.

The guild hall was already busy. Voices overlapped, metal clinked, and notices were being torn down and replaced. Rosacer ignored it all and approached the instructor’s desk, placing the foxtail herb on the surface.

Michael looked up, surprise flickering across his face. He inspected the herb carefully, then nodded.

"I will begin the third phase once the others return," he said. He stood and gave Rosacer a firm pat on the shoulder. "Wait until then."

Rosacer did not move.

"They are dead," he replied calmly.

The words landed heavier than a shout.

Michael’s brows knitted together. "What do you mean?"

"A white-furred monster roams Hermit Mountain," Rosacer said. His voice did not waver. "I saw it kill them. Their bodies are still there. Mangled."

For a moment, the instructor simply stared at him. Then he inhaled slowly, visibly forcing himself to regain composure.

"So... right," Michael said at last. "I will send adventurers to retrieve the bodies."

His gaze lingered on Rosacer, searching for something. Fear, perhaps. Doubt. Guilt.

He found none.

"Thank you for informing us," the instructor said.

Rosacer inclined his head and turned away.

As he stepped outside, the morning no longer felt warm.

Behind him, the guild erupted into hurried movement, whispered speculation, and hurried orders. Ahead of him, the city carried on as usual.

Rosacer turned toward the serpentine-scaled building. The library.

He was here to meet the so-called man named Eren.

Before him rose walls of glasslike scales, each plate catching the morning light and refracting it into faint hues that slid across the stone floor. He paused, once again taking in its quiet magnificence, before stepping inside.

The air within was cool and dry, heavy with the scent of parchment and dust. Rosacer approached the librarian’s desk.

"Is there anyone named Eren here?" he asked.

"Yes," the librarian replied without hesitation. "Upper floor."

Rosacer inclined his head in thanks and turned toward the hallway. As he did, he glanced back. The librarian had already returned to his registers, attention withdrawn as if the exchange had never happened.

He faced forward again and entered the hall. This time, instead of walking straight ahead, he turned toward the staircase leading upward. He climbed slowly, counting each step in his mind, grounding himself in the rhythm.

At the top, the upper floor opened into a quiet, circular chamber.

Shelves lined the walls from floor to ceiling. Only one person occupied the space.

A man with pale skin and pale white hair stood near the far shelves, dressed in vibrant layered fabrics uncommon in the western lands. The colors clashed slightly, as if chosen without regard for harmony.

Rosacer approached him.

"Eren?"

The man slowly raised his head. His eyes lingered on Rosacer for a moment too long before he closed the book in his hands. When he spoke, his voice reverberated faintly across the empty floor.

"Yes. That’s me."

One eyebrow lifted in mild curiosity, an unspoken invitation.

Rosacer met his gaze. "Rosacer. An adventurer and a traveler. I am looking for information regarding the Pre-Unification War."

"Ah," Eren interrupted, his voice perking up. "The Dawn God cultists, right?"

He nodded to himself. "A fascinating piece of history. For us, at least." His expression softened as he glanced at Rosacer. "For eastern folk..." His voice trailed off, regret flickering briefly in his eyes.

"Well anyway," he continued quickly, regaining composure, "the crux of the matter is this."

He tapped the cover of his closed book.

"This religion was one of them. You know what I mean." Eren winked.

"The triplets. They waged war against one another because they were," he coughed, clearing his throat, fingers tightening on the book, "ambitious."

"Ahem. Yes."

"Battles. Slaughter. Gods killing gods. But they also wished to spread." His lips curled upward. "So they did. The east was promising. New land. New people." He looked at Rosacer with open enthusiasm. "Ideal, really."

"That," Eren said softly, "was when the war reached its peak."

He smirked. "By whom, you ask."

Without waiting, he struck his chest with a closed fist. "Of course I will answer."

"Curse," he said, laughing. "Surprised?"

He leaned closer. "Sure, a witch holds no power against a god. Not directly." His eyes gleamed. "But she was clever."

Rosacer listened in silence.

He could not fully follow the man’s tangled explanations, the way facts bled into speculation and excitement. Still, he did not interrupt. Something told him that stopping Eren now would mean losing the thread entirely.

So Rosacer remained still, letting the words flow.

Hoping that, eventually, meaning would surface from the chaos.

"Heh... heh," Eren laughed softly to himself.

Then he grew still.

"I am ashamed, young man," he said, turning fully toward Rosacer.

"The Dawn God was... restrained, at first. At least they hid their tracks well." His fingers tapped lightly against the spine of his book. "They came to the east wearing promises, speaking of fulfillment and protection." His voice darkened. "And who does not desire that?"

"So they flourished. Briefly. With minimal bloodshed." His eyes narrowed. "But faith demands proof. And proof, eventually, demands sacrifice."

"The purge followed."

Eren exhaled slowly.

"And then came the Moon God’s followers. Yes... well, it was not their first arrival in the east, but this time it was not a whisper or a pilgrimage." He spread his hands. "It was an occupation."

"The last of the triplets arrived soon after. The Greed God." A faint smirk tugged at his lips. "Not to spread belief. More like an exile. They had already lost the struggle in the western continent."

Eren turned toward the window, gazing down at the city far below.

"That," he said quietly, "was the Pre-Unification War. The east gained new gods... and lost many of its own."

His voice rose, sharper now. "People should remember that."

He faced Rosacer again, eyes intense.

"A god is not something that should be followed blindly. A god cannot sit upon the plane of morality." He tapped his chest once. "Morality is created by man. Lived by man. Broken by man."

"Only man loses something by standing upon it."

He paused.

"A god is always winning."

Silence stretched between them.

Then Eren straightened. "That is all. The arrival of the Dawn and Moon Gods. The purging of the eastern gods. The creation of their sects and power structures."

Rosacer finally spoke. "The hero Lopis Lemon was a follower of these gods?"

Eren smiled faintly, though it did not reach his eyes.

"Lopis and the other heroes existed for the people, not for the gods. So no, I would not call them evil." He tilted his head. "Perhaps misguided. Perhaps used."

He sighed. "The Greed God is hated, even though it barely has anything left. A few influential families, yes. But very few."

"They are far more peaceful than the Dawn or Moon." He coughed lightly. "That alone should have earned them favor."

His gaze sharpened. "Yet the people still turned away from them."

Eren leaned closer. "Some eastern gods were not truly gods at all."

Rosacer frowned.

"They were closer to abnormal humans," Eren continued, "beings with power great enough to challenge gods themselves. Strange, is it not?"

He nodded to himself. "Jkoi Maysee is an example."

Eren lifted an eyebrow. "Do you know about the Older Gods?"

Rosacer shook his head.

Eren laughed, softer this time. "The Older Gods can also be considered abnormal humans. They were not gods in the truest sense." His fingers traced the air, as if outlining a throne. "But they once sat upon it. And when the new gods arrived, history adjusted."

"So they became ’older gods.’"

"They are still powerful," he added. "Very powerful."

He turned back toward his book.

"Killmonarch of Dahak Setra," Eren said, voice lowering. "Worshiped by the Headhunters. Called the God of Destruction." He paused. "He could be considered the leader of the Older Gods."

The book opened with a soft rustle.

"And that," Eren said without looking up, "is where things stop being history."