Monster Evolution System: I became a Rat-Chapter 99: Smoking Transaction.

With stars shining in the skies, the Magus, bearing the weight of eons of wisdom, slowly encompassed the forests and cities within a matter of hours. He traveled through space, cutting through time as he went. And when the stars grew faint beneath the shadow of the rising sun, he reached Vermis.

Before him, the guards stood ready, vigilant against any unwelcome guest.

But unfortunate for them, they could not catch him. The Magus raised his staff once more and passed by them as though he were nothing more than a drifting wind.

The wind settled around him once he cleared the inner district.

Vermis was only beginning to wake.

The sky had gone from black to a pale bruised blue, and the last stars were fading like embers pressed under ash. A few lamps still burned along the streets, their flames small and stubborn. Somewhere nearby, a cart wheel creaked. A dog barked once, then thought better of it.

The Magus stopped beneath a narrow archway between two stone houses. The walls were damp from the night air. Moss grew between the bricks.

It was quiet enough.

He reached inside his robe and brought out a small wooden box.

It fit neatly in his palm. The lid was scratched at the corners, the grain of the wood worn smooth by time. He held it there for a moment before opening it, as if bracing himself for something heavier than wood and parchment.

Inside lay the letter.

Folded carefully. He opened it.

He lifted it out and unfolded it slowly. The paper gave a soft, tired crackle. The ink had not faded, though it no longer carried the sharp black it once did. 𝚏𝕣𝐞𝗲𝐰𝕖𝐛𝐧𝕠𝕧𝚎𝚕.𝐜𝚘𝗺

He did not read the words this time.

Instead, he closed his eyes and let his thumb trace along one of the lines Amara had written.

She had pressed hard when she wrote. The indentation was still there.

He could feel it.

He lowered himself to one knee, resting the base of his staff against the stone. The early light brushed over the rooftops and slid down the walls, reaching him in pale strips.

He placed the letter against the head of his staff and exhaled slowly.

The air shifted, and his lips quivered as he began to chant.

The very air now seems to grow attentive.

He let his awareness stretch outward.

Then he felt the pulse of the city. The faint tremor of movement through stone and soil. People waking. Thinking. Worrying. Planning.

He sifted through it patiently.

Years ago, he might have done this with force, tearing through space and prying secrets from walls. But age had taught him something gentler.

He searched for her presence the way one searches for a remembered scent.

Nothing at first.

Only strangers. So many strangers.

He adjusted his focus, narrowing it.

Minutes passed.

A baker pushed open a door nearby, flour dusting his sleeves. A pair of apprentices hurried down the street, whispering. The world continued, unaware.

Then—A thread.

Faint, barely there beneath the hum of the waking city.

He froze.

There it was again.

"South-east!"

He opened his eyes.

The feeling lingered, subtle but certain.

"It’s definitely her," Magus murmured under his breath.

He folded the letter carefully and returned it to the box. This time, he did not hesitate.

"She is expecting me," he murmured, more to confirm it to himself than anything else.

The sun finally broke over the rooftops, casting long gold across the street. The city began to breathe properly now.

The Magus rose, leaning lightly on his staff.

He paused for a moment, then stepped forward, and somehow the gap between him and the southern ridge closed faster than it should have.

And somewhere near the old aqueduct, already expecting him, Amara waited.

Magus appeared in front of Amara in a single second, his large, pot-shaped belly shifting as if it were bellowing a greeting of its own.

Amara offered a small smile when she saw him.

"Magus Sankat, how are you?" she asked, bowing as she spoke.

Magus laughed. His broken, crooked teeth showed, and a thin yellow mist leaked from between them. Instinctively, Amara pinched her nose.

Magus narrowed his eyes, but said nothing.

Amara slowly removed her fingers from her nose, regaining her composure as if nothing had happened.

"I assume," she said calmly, "you did not cross half the continent merely to laugh in my face."

Magus grinned, wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his sleeve. "Alright, straight to business."

With the mage in front of her, she turned to adjust.

Amara shifted the cloth bag hanging from her shoulder.

"We stole it," she said.

Magus tilted his head. "So?"

Amara turned and began walking toward the lower market district of Vermis.

Magus followed, his heavy steps strangely quiet for a man of his size.

They stopped before a modest antique stall shaded by a faded red canopy. Old coins, rusted blades, cracked goblets, and chipped statues lay arranged across wooden boards.

The shopkeeper, a thin man with narrow eyes, glanced at them.

Amara stepped forward.

"Good morning," she said.

The man gave a stiff nod. "Morning."

Without wasting time, Amara reached into her bag.

She carefully brought out a silver lamp.

It wasn’t big, small enough to hold in both hands. The silver gleamed, untouched by rust, with delicate engravings spiraling along its surface. Tiny crests lined the rim, faded with time but still clear to anyone who knew where to look.

The Royal Crest of the Ernest Empire.

The shopkeeper’s eyes sharpened.

Magus stood behind her, silent, watching.

"I am selling," Amara said calmly.

The man leaned closer. "Where did you get this?"

"A fair question," she replied, "but it’s none of your business."

The shopkeeper paused for a moment before reaching out to examine the lamp, his fingers lingering just above the crest.

"This is from the Royal Ernest Empire," he muttered.

Amara said nothing.

Magus smiled faintly, enjoying the tension.

"It is authentic," Amara continued.

The man swallowed.

"How much?"

Amara named a price.

The shopkeeper’s face twitched. "That is robbery."

She met his gaze evenly. "I know."

Magus chuckled softly behind her, the faint scent of sulfur drifting once more into the morning air.

She then turned toward Magus and said, "Now, is it fair?"

The Magus looked at the lamp, then at the trembling greed hidden behind the shopkeeper’s eyes.

He nodded once.

Without warning, he lifted his staff and gave it a short, careless wave. A thin stream of gray smoke slipped from its tip and curled around the shopkeeper’s head. It settled over his face like morning fog.

The man blinked.

His expression loosened. The sharpness drained from his eyes. His jaw slackened slightly, as though he had forgotten what he had been thinking about.

Magus stepped forward calmly and took the silver lamp from his unmoving hands.

The shopkeeper did not resist.

He simply stood there, staring ahead in a quiet daze.

Magus turned toward Amara. With another tap of his staff against the stone, a small leather pouch formed in the air and dropped neatly into his palm. It was heavy. The faint clink of coins inside confirmed it.

He handed it to her.

Amara took the bag without a word, weighing it quickly in her hand.

The Magus gave her a short nod.

Then the air warped once more, and his body started to fade at the edges, like ink swirling away in water.

"The smoke will not last more than twenty seconds," his voice echoed faintly as he faded. "Leave quickly."

And just like that, he was gone.

The smoke around the shopkeeper was already thinning.

Amara did not hesitate.

She tightened her grip on the pouch and slipped into the moving crowd, her steps steady but swift. Within seconds, she had blended with the merchants and buyers, just another traveler passing through Vermis.

Behind her, the shopkeeper blinked hard.

He looked down at his empty hands.

For a moment, confusion flickered across his face.

Then he shook his head, as if waking from a strange, brief dream.

In a dark room above the market, behind half-broken wooden shutters, Gringha and Rosacer watched everything.

The light from outside barely entered. Dust floated in the thin beam that cut across the floor. From there, they had seen the exchange.

Rosacer’s fingers rested against the edge of the window.

He muttered, "Who was that mage? He looked strong."

Gringha replied without any change in tone, "A monster. A monster that was locked in the mountains for crimes against humanity."

Rosacer’s eyes narrowed slightly.

"But how did it escape?" Gringha added, his tone unchanged.

Rosacer, internally, was still trying to locate the mage using his aura as a hint, but he could not pinpoint it.

Gravely, both of them had already realized that if the mage had not truly intended to pay and had chosen to attack Amara instead, they would not have been able to do anything to stop him.