SSS Talent: From Trash to Tyrant Chapter 556 Chapter 556: Green Dust

Zafira's words held no doubt for Trafalgar.

Maintaining his pace, as if unchanged by the revelation, he lowered his voice so only she could discern it. "Turn left into the alley. I have an idea."

Zafira followed without question.

Beneath their cloaks, they proceeded, unhurried, revealing nothing. A sense of being followed lingered. Were they both targets? Or just him? The uncertainty remained.

They entered the alley.

From above, the man trailing them moved with alacrity. He sprinted across one rooftop, leaped to the next, and continued his pursuit from higher ground, his experienced footing sure and swift.

Reaching the rooftops overlooking the alley, he peered down.

The alley was narrow, grimy, and largely deserted. Broken crates lined one wall, their gaps alive with scurrying rats. Damp stone, scattered refuse, and the fetid scent of old rain and decay permeated the air.

Only a single hooded figure was visible in the entire length below.

One.

A nearly invisible thread spanned the alley, stretched taut between the walls, becoming apparent only when hit by stray light.

"Why is there only one?"

The question flashed through his mind, sharp and sudden, causing him to halt.

He scanned the alley again, more meticulously this time, searching for the second individual. Nothing. The corners remained vacant. The crates were still. The walls offered no new concealment.

Then, a cold, sharp sensation grazed his neck.

He reacted instinctively, a minimal shift, yet it was enough. The edge bit into his pale skin, drawing a thin line of blood.

A voice spoke from directly behind him.

"Why are you following us?"

It was Trafalgar.

He stood precisely behind the man, Maledicta held against his neck with sufficient pressure to make the answer obvious.

The tactic had been simple. Zafira's thread, stretched across the alley like a waiting trap, had been precisely utilized by Trafalgar. He'd launched himself off it with speed, ascending before the stalker arrived, and circling behind him while the man's gaze remained fixed below.

Now, they were alone on the rooftop.

The man exhaled slowly. "I wasn't following anyone."

Trafalgar's expression tightened slightly. The blatant falsehood felt almost more insulting than the pursuit itself.

He pressed Maledicta a fraction deeper.

The man froze.

"Fine," he conceded. "Fine. You win. I was following you. More specifically, you." A brief silence followed. "I have something I need to do with you."

Trafalgar harbored no trust for the man's words.

The stranger continued, his tone shifting to something more conversational.

"You know, I'd been hired for a job, and it would've been much easier if we were alone." A faint, humorless laugh escaped him. "So you really did me a favor."

That was the only warning Trafalgar received.

The man suddenly twisted, evading Maledicta's edge with a movement too practiced to be mere desperation. His hand rose swiftly. He blew sharply across his palm.

A cloud of green powder erupted outwards.

It dispersed into the air like smoke and dust, enveloping Trafalgar in a noxious haze. He raised an arm instinctively to shield his mouth, but the reaction was a fraction too late. The particles had already entered him.

His body responded instantaneously.

His muscles felt a sudden deficit, as if strength had been stripped away in an invisible layer. His pulse faltered. A strange heat surged through his blood.

Poison.

Trafalgar channeled power into his legs, recoiling sharply, clearing the edge of the green cloud before it could fully engulf him. Maledicta remained raised in his hand.

His body had weakened.

Not critically, not enough to incapacitate him, but the effect was undeniable. His Primordial Body absorbed the brunt of it, preventing complete debilitation, yet the damage was present. He felt it in the heaviness of his limbs, the altered cadence of his breath, and the subtle roughening of the mana within his Dantian.

The stranger emerged from the poison cloud with a relaxed grin.

"I'll admit, I didn't expect that." His voice now held open, unpleasant amusement. "The information I received stated you were at Flow Core. That dose should've left you face-down already." He rolled a shoulder. "Seems they undersold you. Good. That means I might actually enjoy this."

His intention was clear: to kill him.

Trafalgar stood his ground, Maledicta held defensively before him as dark-blue veins of mana materialized along the blade.

Names flashed through his mind in rapid succession.

Seraphine.

Maeron.

Rivena.

None seemed a perfect fit.

At least, not without direct indication. Had there been any significant movement within House Morgain, Caelum would have surely detected it, as he always did. This didn't render them impossible suspects, but it made them less probable.

Another possibility began to form.

A bounty was placed.

His SSS talent was now common knowledge. Far too many individuals were aware, and increasingly, they began to grasp the potential of what he could achieve if permitted to mature. Terminating him swiftly would undoubtedly attract the attention of the more unscrupulous individuals.

Or perhaps, a different motive was at play.

The potent poison continued its insidious work within him.

Trafalgar could now distinctly perceive its effects, less as outright pain and more as a disruptive interference. His limbs felt somewhat heavier than they ought to. The inherent strength in his legs didn't surge from the ground as fluidly. Even the mana coalescing around Maledicta seemed to acquire a jagged edge, as if the toxin sought to corrupt the flow before it reached the blade.

He made a soft clicking sound with his tongue.

Most vexing.

His grasp on the hilt intensified. The rooftop beneath his feet, the precise distance separating them, the breeze sweeping in from the port, the lingering silhouette of the poison cloud left by the assassin – he took it all in with a single, measured breath.

If the assailant believed that was sufficient to sway the outcome of the battle, he was about to discover a harsh reality.

Down below, Zafira witnessed the verdant gas spill over the roof's edge, and her expression shifted instantaneously.

"This is dire."

She took a deliberate step back, assessing the angle, the wall, the adjacent windows, and the delicate threads she had meticulously woven throughout the alleyway.

'I must ascend!'

Above her, a miasma of poison permeated the air.

And Trafalgar had already engaged in combat.