Chapter 75: Mutation

“Martha, is this really going to work?”

Nighttime, a high-rise in the center of A City.

White Li stood at the edge of the rooftop.

The night wind tangled her long hair, and her tail drooped behind her.

She let out a yawn, squeezing a bit of moisture from the corner of her eye, then wiped it with the back of her hand.

“Ah—every single day we dump slimes, and then that guy shows up for a few minutes and burns them all down…”

She turned the bag in her hand upside down and shook it.

The round little things inside fell out like dumplings into a pot, carried by the night wind toward every direction of the city.

“Just follow Madam’s orders.

Asking why isn’t your job.”

Martha stood half a step behind her, hands folded in front.

“Fine, fine.”

White Li pouted and shook her head.

‘All this overtime…

During the day, Martha spreads slimes all over the city, and at night it’s the two of us doing it together.’

‘Morning, night, weekdays, weekends.’

‘I feel like I’ve become a slime wholesaler.

I could do the whole routine in my sleep with my eyes closed.’

But every time she did it for long, the Blazing Knight showed up.

A sweep of flames, and all the slimes evaporated—neat and clean.

And he was getting faster, almost like he was chasing a new monster-killing record.

White Li even suspected that Martha was a mole, trying to level up the Blazing Knight.

Otherwise, there was no explanation for why she kept tirelessly dropping slimes to lure him out.

It couldn’t be just to wear him down, right?

She could take out this garbage slime herself with one punch.

What could it possibly consume?

Stamina?

Endurance?

Or…

“Gurgle gurgle—”

As White Li thought, the bag in her hand grew light.

The last slime slipped out of the opening, tumbled in the air, and fell toward the ground.

A flapping sound.

She shook the empty bag at Martha, the hollow fabric rustling in the wind.

“I’m done here.”

Martha glanced at White Li and gave a slight nod.

Then her eyes narrowed, and she looked alertly into the distance.

A spark of fire was rapidly approaching from the horizon, growing brighter and closer.

Martha stomped her foot.

The shadow beneath her began to ripple like water.

“Time to go.”

The darkness spread from her feet, flowing over White Li’s toes.

“Oh.”

White Li pinched her nose, took a deep breath, and slowly sank into the shadow as if diving.

Before long, a silver-gray figure appeared on the rooftop, his gaze sweeping across the empty terrace.

Lin Du stood up and looked toward the city lights in the distance.

‘Gone again.’

The next morning.

The sharp ring of a phone jolted the device half an inch across the table.

Lin Du clicked his tongue in annoyance, fumbled on the surface for a moment before grabbing the phone, and pressed the answer button.

“Sorry, Lin Du.”

The Chief’s voice came through the receiver, edged with exhaustion.

“A new one appeared.

The previous methods won’t work.

We’ll have to trouble you again.”

Lin Du sat up in bed, rubbed his eyes, and tried to wake himself up, but his head still felt like it was swimming in glue.

“Appeared again?

I understand.”

He hung up, put the phone on the nightstand, and looked down at his right arm.

Jet-black scales had replaced the original transparent ones, spreading from his wrist all the way to his upper arm.

Each scale was the size of a fingernail, with sharp edges.

He reached out and touched them—smooth, hard, like the surface of a lizard or a snake.

No warmth, no sensation, as if they weren’t part of his body.

The scales refracted different colors in the light.

Something not human was growing from beneath his skin.

Lin Du held his arm up to his eyes, turning it over to look at the scales.

‘The erosion is getting worse.’

Lately, small Strange Persons had been appearing and causing destruction with increasing frequency.

He lowered his arm and stared at the ceiling.

The first slimes that appeared couldn’t be killed with ordinary firearms; only fire could damage them.

The Containment Team’s flamethrowers barely worked—inefficient, but at least manageable.

By the time the second wave of slimes appeared, normal flamethrowers were useless.

Their bodies were denser, more heat-resistant.

The team’s equipment only raised a puff of smoke, not even burning through their skin.

And by the time the team applied for upgraded gear, the slimes had evolved again.

It was as if they were deliberately upgrading—each time a little stronger, each time just above the team’s equipment ceiling.

The opponent’s intention was clear: make him come.

Make him transform, make him fight, make him activate the power in the wristband again and again.

He could still handle the drain.

Back when he first became a Knight, he’d faced worse situations—even fought for three days straight without rest.

But back then, he didn’t have these scales on his arms.

The opponent seemed to know his condition, knew he was slowly turning into something not human.

So they kept luring him into transforming, accelerating the erosion, pushing him toward the abyss.

Lin Du clenched his fist.

He understood what they meant.

He knew perfectly well what he was doing, and what the consequences would be.

But he had no choice.

Because he was a Knight—the hero protecting this city.

This city his father loved.

This city he had promised to protect.

Lin Du threw off the covers and got out of bed.

He walked to the wardrobe, opened the door, and took out a long-sleeved shirt.

He put it on, buttoned it one by one, then folded the cuffs back and fastened the top button.

The dark scales on his right arm were hidden by the fabric—from the outside, it looked like an ordinary arm.

Lin Du glanced at himself in the mirror inside the wardrobe.

His hair was a mess, with faint dark circles under his eyes.

He took a deep breath, looked away from the mirror, and picked up the wristband from the nightstand, fastening it around his wrist.

Lin Du pushed open the door and leaped off the corridor’s edge.

“Transformation!”

Flames surged, and the silver-gray armor materialized in the morning light.

He fell through the air, his toes touching the ground—it should have been a clean landing.

But this time, his knees suddenly buckled.

“Cough… cough…”

He braced himself against the nearby wall to steady himself, a wave of discomfort washing over him.

A faint headache began to throb, as if something was slowly expanding inside his skull, pressing against his consciousness.

He shook his head, gritted his teeth, and pushed himself upright.

He walked to the motorcycle parked at the curb, swung a leg over, and twisted the throttle.

The bike’s system detected his identity and started automatically.

The dashboard lights flickered on, and the engine let out a low growl.

But his vision grew blurry.

The scene before him was covered by a layer of red film, spreading from the edges toward the center.

Streetlights, buildings, the distant sky—all stained with an unnatural dark red.

Something whispered at the edge of his consciousness, a voice that did not belong to him but grew clearer by the second.

‘Burn… everything… to ash…’