Chapter 43: Moving Away (1)
As the night shrouded Nexaria in its starry veil, people began retiring to their homes. Adrian pulled his hoodie out of habit as he treaded through the cobblestone streets.
He no longer needed to hide his face to cover his deformity. However, he still had enemies lurking in the shadows and couldn’t afford to have his identity leaked. That’s why his hoodie was still his best friend... until he left Nexaria for good.
Lamplights flickered as he made his way towards the store to sell the loot, casting an amber glow on the worn buildings. Despite the run-down condition of the slums, he often spotted people laughing their hearts out, but it didn’t take long for him to spot someone fighting in some corner for the pettiest of reasons.
While people of the Central City might be repulsed and threatened by the unpredictability of the slums, Adrian had grown used to it. Maybe it was because his own heart was in a similar, unpredictable state.
However, he wasn’t the only one with an unpredictable heart. Red was feeling the same way. How could he not when, even though he knew who Victor’s killer was, he was unable to find him?
With a deformed head like the Chimaera, it shouldn’t have been tough to locate him. Unfortunately for Red, the person he sought proved smarter than him and had covered his tracks well.
Besides, Red wasn’t exactly known for his tracking skills, either. It had always been Timothy’s field of expertise. The thought of asking Tim for help briefly crossed Red’s mind, but he quickly brushed it off.
"Asking Tim for help meant asking the entire guild," Red spat out his frustrations. "And involving the guild means no revenge for me. No... I have to do this myself! Only killing that bastard with my own hands would bring me peace."
Usually, the attire would help him look for someone, but the gear of the Chimaera in the footage was way too common in the slums. Unlike the central city, where everyone wore pristine clothes, torn and tattered clothes were most common in the slums.