Reyn tested the three remaining icons, figuring out their functions. One turned out to be a camera—it allowed him to take photos of what he saw and save them in the built-in photo gallery, which was currently empty. The other one was apparently a dictionary-translator, though Reyn wasn't entirely sure—nothing happened when he activated it; maybe he just hadn't figured out how to use it.
The last icon was the most interesting—it was a music player! Reyn loved music. As a child, his mother had even forced him to learn piano, and though he wasn't much of a pianist, he had picked up some understanding of music. Sometimes, when out with friends or colleagues at karaoke, he'd even sing a couple of songs to applause.
He opened the player and found about a thousand songs in it—all the ones he'd once downloaded to his Earth phone. It was a big surprise for Reyn. Eagerly, he selected one of the tracks. A familiar melody played, Reyn got lost in it, and suddenly a sharp longing for Earth and everything left behind washed over him. It made him a little sad.
After listening to a few more songs, Reyn sighed quietly and turned off the player. The sky outside the window was already starting to lighten.
Reyn hadn't slept all night, but he felt surprisingly energetic and refreshed. After breakfast in the tavern hall, he stepped out onto the street.
Iceberg and Ramsey were dead, so now he could safely return to his rented apartment. However, the bag of money, the sword, and the shotgun were too conspicuous to carry around the city. So Reyn decided not to check out of the tavern yet, leaving his things hidden in the room until better times.
Right now, he needed to stop by the apartment and show his face to the landlord, or the man might report his prolonged absence to the city hall, which could lead to unnecessary trouble.
He took a public bus back to his apartment in the Los district. On the first floor, he knocked on the landlord's door. A heavyset middle-aged man in pajamas, with a newspaper tucked under his arm, opened it. Seeing Reyn, he scowled disapprovingly:
"Hello, Reyn," he said. "What happened? Did the pipe burst again?"
Reyn had already called him twice about leaking pipes—it was a chronic problem in their apartment building. The structure was several decades old, the pipes long rusted and worn out, but replacing them entirely cost a fortune, and the stingy landlord wasn't willing to shell out.
"Good morning, Mr. Lenny," Reyn smiled. "Rent's due the day after tomorrow, but I might be busy and away those days, so I figured I'd pay early."
With that, he handed the landlord the prepared 120 copper foxes.
Hearing it wasn't about the pipes, Lenny softened immediately. He gladly took the money and nodded:
"You could've waited a couple days, no big deal. But early is even better. I'm just having breakfast, Reyn—want to join?"
"Thanks, Mr. Lenny, but I've already eaten," Reyn refused firmly and said a polite goodbye.
This landlord was notorious for his stinginess on the whole street, though he liked to play the generous host. Had Reyn accepted the breakfast invite, Lenny would've found a way to deduct the cost from something later.
Back in his third-floor apartment, he found a thin layer of dust—no one had lived here for nearly half a month.
"To live here again, I'll have to clean up."
In half an hour, Reyn had the whole room spotless, then washed up and changed into clean clothes. He was just about to head out to find an alchemy shop and take the Soul Test when his super hearing picked up a conversation on the street.
"Koshem Street, 115. Captain, we're here."
It was a clear female voice, belonging to a woman no older than thirty, confident in tone. Her movements clanged with metal—she was clearly in armor. Her steps were heavy and resounding, very different from normal ones, easy to pick out.
A low male voice replied:
"That's the building, right? Let's go up. Third floor, apartment 308."
This man's steps, by contrast, were extraordinarily light and nimble, like a cat's.
Reyn froze. His apartment was number 308! Were these two here for him? He instantly focused on the sound sources: the light and heavy footsteps were already coming from the first-floor hall—they'd entered the building and were heading quickly for the stairs.
From the sound of their steps, both were superhumans. Escape was out of the question. Plus, this was the third floor—a jump from the window would mean injury, and he wouldn't get far.
"I can't run no matter what—that'd be as good as admitting guilt."
Reyn's thoughts raced. They were probably authorities. They'd traced the country house owner to Iceberg. They'd likely already visited the fencing school, learned Reyn was his assistant, and now come for questioning.
"They're acting remarkably fast," Reyn thought. "Tracked me down in just a few hours. Must've found that evil god altar—explains the rush."
He mentally thanked himself for not bringing the money and shotgun to the apartment; otherwise, there'd be way more problems now. With a force of will, he calmed down. A knock came at the door.
Reyn opened it calmly. Outside stood a man and a woman. The man looked mid-thirties. Dressed in a black leather jacket and pants, holster on his belt, wide-brimmed fedora like a cowboy hat on his head. Ordinary features, just a slightly hooked nose, a few shallow wrinkles on his forehead. Bushy brows hung over a pair of dark, deep-set eyes. Behind him stood a female warrior in full armor.
Tall, with a pretty face and golden hair in a ponytail. She wore elegant silver armor, the hilt of a two-handed sword visible over her shoulder. Her breastplate bore an emblem of golden scales—the sacred symbol of the God of Justice.
"Level Four Ranger, but with a Spiritual Rifle like a Marksman! And a Level Three Paladin woman!" Reyn instantly identified their classes with his Soul Eye, but feigned surprise on his face:
"Gentlemen, you..."
The man pulled a card from his jacket pocket.
"I'm Pollock from the Demon Extermination Squad of the Bureau of Public Security," he introduced himself. "This is my partner, Frida. My ID."
He didn't hand the card to Reyn, just flashed it for a couple seconds and pocketed it. An ordinary person wouldn't have caught anything, let alone dared question an authority figure.
The Bureau of Public Security in Longsand was like Earth's police. Regular law enforcement were called constables. The Bureau had a special unit—the Demon Extermination Squad—handling demon-related cases and forbidden cults. All members were superhumans, usually five to ten of various professions, always operating in groups.
The ID flash reminded Reyn of Earth movie scenes. If Pollock had yelled "FBI, freeze!", he might not even have been surprised... Suppressing an inner smirk, he faked alarm and swung the door wider:
"Gentlemen, please, come in. How can I help?"
Pollock entered the room, while the paladin woman Frida stayed outside the threshold. She gave Reyn a long, appraising look, then looked away. Pollock glanced around the modest furnishings—nothing much to inspect.
"You know Fern Iceberg, right?" he asked.
"Yes," Reyn answered honestly. "I was his assistant, but only worked half a month."
"Why so short?" Pollock pressed.
"There it is," Reyn's insides went cold, "the one spot I could slip up." He didn't know what Iceberg had told the fencing school after his "disappearance." Probably nothing, just acted like he didn't know where he'd gone. But there was another possibility: Iceberg might've reported that Reyn couldn't handle assistant duties and was fired.
Seeing Reyn's hesitation, Pollock frowned.
"It's very important," he said sternly. "I advise telling the truth, or we'll have to take you in for questioning."
"No, no, don't!" Reyn waved his hands in panic. "Sir, I'll tell you everything. Half a month ago, at night, Mr. Iceberg and Ramsey found me. Told me to grab a weapon and come on a big job, promised I'd get rich. But warned there might be killing. I got scared and, when they were distracted, ran. That same night, I left town and hid in a village for days. Only dared come back this morning."
Reyn's answer mixed truth and fiction. He deftly sidestepped the direct question about his departure reason, avoiding contradiction with whatever the fencing school might've said.
Pollock didn't react, just stared at Reyn. Under his gaze, Reyn lowered his head in feigned fear, body trembling slightly.
"So you managed to escape," Pollock said finally. "Resourceful. But why didn't you report to authorities?"
"I... I didn't dare," Reyn replied timidly. "And I had no proof." He looked up. "Sir, did they catch Mr. Iceberg?"
"He's dead," Pollock said flatly. "So's your classmate Ramsey. Both were in a forbidden cult. Consider yourself lucky you didn't get dragged in."
"Oh..." Reyn faked shock, then hidden relief.
Seeing his reaction, Pollock seemed to lose interest in the interrogation. He turned and left the room, gesturing to the paladin woman:
"Let's go."
Reyn watched them until they vanished on the landing, then closed the door. He wiped his forehead—his palm was wet. Reyn couldn't help admiring his own acting and shook his head:
"For saving your own skin, you'll do anything!"
Downstairs, as they left the building, Pollock and Frida continued their talk.
"Frida, notice anything?" Pollock asked quietly.
"No, Captain," she replied. "My mental scan showed normal. He's an ordinary human, no connection to the evil god."
"Then forget him," Pollock grunted. "Though the kid clearly held back. Not a superhuman, but escaped a Level Two Shadow Warrior—something's off. But if he's not cult-related, whatever. No point digging further, don't scare the young man for nothing."
Their footsteps faded into the distance. Reyn felt mixed emotions, but mostly belated fear. He committed the two superhumans' names to memory.
***