What could it be?
Shawn frowned deeply, and as he looked up ahead, he couldn’t help but freeze for a mont.
Hank.
The heavy rain outside had stopped, and at the corner of the stairs, in the darkness of the shadows, Hank stood smoking in the corner. Smoke swirled around, obscuring his face. It seed as if he was waiting for Shawn here, because as soon as Shawn stepped out of the underground corridor, Hank imdiately lifted his head.
"Hank?"
Shawn looked at the exhausted middle-aged man ahead, and with a slightly puzzled expression, said, "Weren’t you chasing those cultists?"
"Why are you here?"
Hank had been hunting those cultists for nearly a week, and he shouldn’t suddenly return at this ti unless he encountered so trouble.
Smoke swirled in the shadows.
Hank slowly lifted his head, seemingly with a trace of regret in his eyes, his pupils filled with bloodshot streaks. He took a deep drag of his cigarette, gazed steadily at Shawn in front of him, and slowly stepped out from the shadows.
He looked no different than before.
But he had no shadow!
In an instant, Shawn’s pupils contracted. It was as if he thought of sothing and instantly looked up at Hank in front of him, saying gravely: "Hank! What exactly happened?"
Hank revealed a bitter smile and said softly: "You can indeed see ."
He was dead.
Aside from strong beings in the Shadow Sequence, only ghosts have no shadows.
Shawn found it hard to accept, but he knew what he was seeing couldn’t be a lie. Hank might be dead, what appeared before him was a ghost or perhaps a remaining thread of spirituality.
"I don’t have much ti left."
Hank took a deep drag of his cigarette and calmly said, "They’ve already started moving. Tonight. I’ll guide the way for you!"
"Pay attention, follow the direction of the light."
Hank gazed at Shawn in front of him, surrounded by swirling smoke, and slowly said: "Can I ask you for a favor?"
A chill gust swept by.
Shawn looked at Hank’s ghost before him, was silent for a mont, and nodded, "Go ahead."
An Investigator’s intuition far surpasses that of ordinary people, which also ans they can easily gain a touch of power from the Spirit Realm, like the headless Lantern Bearer of the University City. Hank’s spiritual body found Shawn in so way. Shawn didn’t know exactly what happened to Hank, his spirituality hadn’t entirely dissipated, he was in a state between life and death, a true ghost should have little spirituality remaining.
But Hank was still very lucid now; a freshly dead ghost should be confused and bewildered.
Hank tossed the cigarette butt away and said softly, "I wish to ask you to help take care of my wife and children in the future."
Shawn nodded firmly, "Alright."
After receiving Shawn’s reply, Hank smiled relieved, waved his hand, and his figure retreated into the darkness, calmly saying: "Then, I’m leaving."
"Pay attention to the direction of the light!..."
"If you have the chance, please tell my daughter that her father wasn’t a madman or a monster, he was a hero!..."
Hank was as carefree as ever.
His figure disappeared into the darkness with a smile, leaving Shawn standing silently in place.
Suddenly.
In the southwest direction of Dorne City, a dull thud resonated, followed by a rising beam of light. It seed like a beacon guiding the way, instantly attracting the gaze of countless Night Watchers.
.........
In a dark, cold underground chamber.
Bloodstained remnants surrounded the altar where the cultists previously perford their ritual. In this cramped space, piles of dozens of grim and terrifying cocoon figures filled the area. So had completely lted, their flesh turned into a viscous dark red fluid. So were undergoing transformation; a humanoid silhouette could be seen within the cocoon shells, but they were no longer human in form. So had completely grown insect-like limb organs.
At the central position of the altar, a white cocoon resembling a silkworm’s pulsated. Inside, a hulking humanoid silhouette could be seen; it was being reborn within death.
Shed the old self, embrace the new self.
The Moth Deity’s blessing favored him, allowing him to live anew within death, reconstructing his flesh anew, recondensed the body and drew the scattered spirituality back into the reborn shell.
—Feathered Light Chaser!
The Moth Deity was an entity without concepts of good and evil. Its existence represented a phenonon in the world. Light Chaser, whether it’s the light of darkness or the light of hope, the Moth Deity only favored those who ’chase the light.’
Those who possess courage, and tirelessly pursue the light, ultimately receive the Moth Deity’s blessing.
It represents chaos and change; chasing light is its instinct.
The Moth Deity does not care about the life and death of mortals. It has no sense of good or evil, but wherever it arrives, due to its dominion over life, all living things are transford into half-human, half-insect monsters.
The Old Ones do not care about humanity, only about the laws of the world.
They rarely stoop to regard ants.
Rip!
Above the altar, a limb like the joint of an arthropod tore through the solid white cocoon. Amidst the oozing dark red viscous liquid, a grotesque, fearso humanoid head erged. It bore so resemblance to a human figure, faintly reminiscent of Hank in the past, but its eyes were insect compound eyes, it had no nose, only two facial cavities, and its lower jaw had transford into a sharp insect mouthpart. With the faint rustle of trembling wings, a pair of white moth-like wings erged from the breaking cocoon.
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