Secret World of Occultists
Chapter 71: Deliver Judgment

Chapter 71: Deliver Judgment

Sunday, Aug 10th 1030.

It was close to 10:00 p.m., and the sun had already set, coloring the sky dark.

The oil lamps inside the building started to come to life one after another, and the lamplighters began moving across the streets, manually lighting the gas street lamps.

Lamplighters were working-class men often hired by municipal authorities or gas companies. They wore heavy wool coats, flat caps, and sturdy boots as they went around in the evenings to ignite lampposts and extinguish them at dawn.

A group of three young men, wearing flat caps and frock coats, walked past an old lamplighter, sneering and making jokes at him.

The old man silently did his job, reaching for the top of the lamppost and igniting the gas flame. He then turned to the three men, looking at them with a dry expression.

Seeing the fine coats and trousers they had on and then the flat caps they had donned, the old man knew that these people were part of the Marrowmen.

Only the Marrowmen would pair flat caps with tailored coats. It was supposed to be symbolic of them rising from the gutters of Newport and living lavish lives as middle-class men.

Seeing the men follow behind a young girl, the lamplighter knew that their intentions weren’t kind.

However, in the end, he shook his head and turned the other way around. There was nothing he could do about it.

This neighborhood as well as a few others in the vicinity was run by the Marrowmen. They were the rulers here. To go against them meant courting death.

Not even the constables did anything to stop them, so how could he, an old and crippled veteran of war, do something?

He had a family to feed, after all.

So just like most people in this neighborhood, he too turned a blind eye to their deeds. All the while feeling guilty and ashamed inside as his heart twisted.

Suddenly, the old man’s gaze landed on a young lad dressed in a finely tailored frock coat and a top hat walking towards him.

Who is this young man? The lamplighter frowned.

He doesn’t look like someone who would visit this neighborhood.

It was a clean-shaven young man of eighteen years of age. He had dark blond hair and deep blue eyes. His immaculate appearance to the way he carried himself made him look like a proper Albion gentleman.

When they crossed paths, the young man turned to him and gave him a nod of acknowledgment. Then, he right walked past him, seemingly following the three Marrowmen.

Realizing this, the lamplighter reached out for him, his mouth opening and closing several times, almost as if he wanted to stop the young man from doing something stupid.

But in the end, the words couldn’t come out of his mouth. His shoulders slouched and he turned around, walking towards the next lamppost.

He had a job to do, and wouldn’t bother involving himself with anything that was even remotely related to the Marrowmen.

Such was the fear that this gang had managed to drive into the hearts of the poor and helpless people of this neighborhood.

But that all ended today.

Abel took calm and steady strides as he followed behind the three Marrowmen.

He knew them. He knew them very well.

After all...

They were the ones who had killed him.

The old him.

When he saw them enter a dark and secluded alley, pursuing a teenage girl, his eyes narrowed and the grip around his cane tightened.

He then silently entered the cobbled alley as well.

Ready to deliver judgment!

...

"Now then, where’s the fire, lass?" One of the three men slapped his hand against the brick wall, blocking the teenage girl’s path with a grin.

"Please..." the girl’s lips quivered. "I just want to go home."

"Why not stick around for a bit of fun, eh love?" Another man, blond-haired, blocked her from the other side, cutting off her escape.

"What’s this you’re clutchin’? Let’s have a look." The third man snatched the paper bag the girl was holding.

"Please, no!" The girl yelped. That was the groceries that she was going to take home for her parents and siblings. "Please... sir!"

"Please, what?" The third man revealed a sly grin. "Oh, this? You want this back, do you?"

The girl nodded, tears forming in her eyes. However, she held it in as she tightly clutched her hands.

"So how’s this, then? You stay the night with us." Said the man, leaning in. He licked his lips and whispered, "We’ll be real gentle... promise."

"Oi, Reggie, what’s the plan then? We takin’ turns or what?"

"Ain’t we sharin’ like usual, mate?"

Hearing the three men speak such vile things right in front of her caused the teenage girl to break down. Tears streamed down her face and she clasped her hands, "Please, please, sir! I just want to go home!"

"We’ll see you home, don’t worry," said the man, taking a step closer with a smirk. "Tomorrow, mind."

Before things could escalate any further, the group of men suddenly heard the sound of footsteps.

They frowned. This was a secluded alley, and if any passerby saw what was happening there, they would turn away once they realized who these men were judging by their appearance.

Yet, someone had dared to enter the alley.

The blond man named Reggie turned to look at the entrance of the alley. But he was slightly taken aback seeing the newcomer’s clothes.

A man wearing such fancy clothes did not belong in this neighborhood.

"Fuck off, will ya?" Reggie snapped, his eyes flashing.

However, Abel calmly made his way inside the alley and stood a few meters away from the group.

He looked at the faces of all three men and was reminded of the night he, or rather the previous Abel, was assaulted by them.

Three of them had ganged up on him and continued to pummel him despite his cries for mercy.

Yet, they never stopped.

He could still remember their smirks and grins as they violently thrashed him. They continued to throw punches and kicks until the previous Abel had breathed his last.

Now, that Abel finally confronted these men again, his blue eyes flashed with fury. But he soon took deep breaths to calm down.

’Remember this, Abel. Anger clouds the mind and dulls the blade. Keep your fury caged, or it’ll be the end of you.’

He recalled the Commander’s words.

Then he took off his top hat and looked the three men in the eye. He made sure the dim light in the alley illuminated his face enough for his killers to see.

His lips slowly curled into a cold smile. "Good evening, gentlemen," he said.

"Remember me?"