The April sun was warm, its rays so drowsy that Edward, seated in the courtyard, began to feel sleepy. He simply laid Groselle's Travels—a book he had flipped through countless tis out of boredom—across his face and, lulled by the sun's hypnotic embrace, remained lying there until dusk.
The entire day passed, calm and uneventful.
It was not that Edward had nerves of steel or was utterly fearless. It was simply that waiting idly like this was unbearably dull. Otherwise, he would not have pulled out Groselle's Travels, a book he had read so many tis that he could recite it cover-to-cover.
Why that particular book?
Naturally, because of its invincible defensive power. In the original story, Klein had once used it to withstand a strike from the Abomination, Suah, and erged unscathed.
As a Sequence 4 Spiritcaster, Edward possessed impressive regenerative powers and vitality. But if his head were obliterated, he would still be left gravely injured—if not outright dead.
Most importantly, if things turned dire, he could sar it with blood—well, the original text had said "bodily fluid," so even spit would do. In that case, wouldn't people with the habit of licking their fingers to turn pages risk getting pulled in imdiately? Regardless, retreating inside at a critical mont could buy him more ti.
As night fell, Edward left for a nearby restaurant, ate a al, and wandered back only after eight o'clock. He sharpened his spirit, ready for the enemy's arrival.
Yet again, the night was "peaceful."
———
Thus, ti slipped into the third day—the final day of his commission.
The newspapers reported no new "gas explosions" or mysterious deaths. Intis had not convened another gathering to announce fresh casualties. Yet Edward was certain: beneath the calm surface, waves were building.
By noon, he sensed soone intruding upon his False Reality. The labyrinth he had woven posed little difficulty for the intruder…but it had bought him just enough ti to complete his "pray to myself, answer myself" setup, allowing him to maintain the special state where he could cancel the summoning at any mont and return to the Sefirah Castle.
A few minutes later, the door creaked open.
An old man of seventy or eighty rushed in, his face lined with panic.
"Quick, help ! Soone's chasing ! Who's on guard here? It's —Coward!"
Coward?
Edward, concealed in invisibility, arched an eyebrow. Hadn't he withdrawn already?
He flicked a coin. Heads—truth. The old man wasn't lying.
Just then, another intruder broke into the False Reality.
An intense sense of danger swept over Edward. He instantly retreated backwards, phasing through the wall. At once, countless nearly invisible threads filled the villa like an intricate spiderweb.
Shiiing!
In the next second, the centuries-old house was sliced into innurable fragnts and collapsed with a thunderous roar, sending dust billowing into the sky.
The old man burst out of the debris, cursing furiously, "Damn it! Weren't we supposed to support each other? You ran faster than ! Cough, cough!"
A fit of coughing overtook him. When he pulled his hand away from his mouth, it was sared with fresh, scarlet blood. With a swift Theft, he reappeared a thousand ters away.
The mont his feet touched down, a rain of pitch-black flas poured from above. He quickly used Theft again, swapping places with a tree outside the black inferno's range.
Then, twisting his body, he clawed at the air.
A stunning woman in a long white dress materialised out of nothingness—stunned. In the sa instant, the old man turned invisible and vanished.
Edward's brows furrowed tighter and tighter as he witnessed this.
Wasn't this witch far too brazen? To act so wantonly in broad daylight, before the eyes of ordinary citizens—did she truly feel no fear of the Intis royal family, the Church's angels, or their Sealed Artifacts?
The witch, deprived of her target, was visibly enraged. She alighted gracefully upon the ground, and before the stunned, curious gazes of nearby civilians, she unleashed a billowing, thick, yellow mist.
Edward recognised it instantly. It was the very sa plague-laden fog the Lady Despair of the future had once unleashed upon Backlund during the Great Smog.
Within monts, those around her doubled over in violent coughs, collapsing in agony and confusion, their lives snuffed out swiftly in despair. The others who realised what was happening fled in panic, but none could outrun the spreading fog. They fell like wheat before a scythe.
"…"
Fury burned hot in Edward's chest.
He was no saint like Klein, but neither could he stand by while a Beyonder slaughtered ordinary people in front of him.
"Damn that Coward!"
He cursed under his breath and reached out toward the witch. Magnify combined with Theft—he attempted to steal her disease powers.
It failed.
His action, however, imdiately revealed his position to the witch. Invisible threads crisscrossed like a web around him. But before they could tighten, scorching flas consud them.
Casting aside his Cloak of Invisibility, Edward shot southeast, streaking toward the city outskirts.
The white-robed witch gave chase without hesitation.
A few minutes later, Edward crossed Trier's walls and reached the desolate wilderness beyond.
He spun in midair, halting abruptly. Ancient gears turned within his eyes, and silver-white lightning crackled forth.
BOOM!
The next instant, accompanied by surging silver-white serpents of lightning, terrifying thunder crashed down with a brutal, tangible aura of destruction, striking toward the white-robed witch whose aura had suddenly weakened.
Crack!
In the mont the lightning hit her, the witch's body turned into nothing more than a snapped staff. Her true form reappeared hundreds of ters away—but another bolt of thunder, long prepared, crashed down. The mont she erged, she was swallowed whole by the silver-white storm.
Though she invoked her Mirror Substitute again, she could not fully escape the lightning storm. When she reappeared, half her body was charred black, and she staggered to her knees.
Terror filled her pupils. Had she not clawed her way back to demi-god strength at the very last instant, she—fallen to Sequence 5—would have been reduced to nothing but a charred husk!
Escape!
This was the only thought in the witch's mind as she turned to flee at full speed.
Edward was about to give chase when he noticed her hair turning white at a rate visible to the naked eye. Her skin withered into the brittle dryness of age. Then her legs gave way, and she collapsed to the ground, transford into a decrepit old woman.
Her pupils overflowed with the terror of death as the light in her eyes faded rapidly, until at last, all signs of life vanished.
"Chasing , were you?"
The old man—"Coward"—dropped his invisibility and stood beside the witch's corpse, his face full of satisfaction. He glanced at Edward in mild surprise. "First you steal, then you unleash a lightning storm…A Secrets Sorcerer? Are you Number Eight?"
Edward remained wary, his tone flat. "Why couldn't I be a Shepherd?"
"Hah! The Twilight Hermit Order would never allow a Shepherd among their ranks."
…Unexpected, but not unreasonable.
"You quit, didn't you? Then why are they still after you?"
The Coward seethed. "I did quit. But I was so furious at the ti that I took that bronze rod from their underground stash. Who knew it would drag into this ss?"
"Then how did you know there was a Twilight Hermit Order mber in that villa just now?"
"Hunter told —before he died."
"…"
So, after leaving two nights ago, Hunter sought out Coward again? Or…was Coward lying?
Either way, Edward had no intention of entangling himself with him. "Enough. The one chasing you is dead. Run while you still can."
"Heh, I don't need you to tell twice."
The Coward chuckled, then pulled a bronze rod from his coat. "You want this? I'm afraid if I keep it, it'll only bring more trouble. Better I hand it off to you."
He tossed the staff lightly through the air. Edward caught it with his Invisible Hand, suspending it in midair.
"Consider this as owing you a favour. I'll pay it back soday."
With that, the Coward faded back into invisibility and vanished.
Edward frowned, staring at the bronze rod held aloft in his Invisible Hand. After pondering briefly, he teleported to the front of the Intis Royal Palace. He hurled the bronze rod forcefully toward the palace's highest point, then sketched a retreating arc as he faded from sight.
The staff shot hundreds of ters upward—but suddenly, as if striking an invisible wall, it plumted straight down into a pale, slender hand.
Dressed in a black gown, Krismona caught the staff and examined it curiously. Her face lit up with surprise. "Mama, didn't you always say pies don't fall from the sky? Who could be so generous, handing a gift the mont I arrive?"
Her lively voice held a trace of suspicion. "Are we sure it's safe?"
Krismona turned the staff over once more, up and down. "Doesn't seem like there's anything wrong with it."
"Then pocket it for now."
She spun the staff in her hand, tucked it into the pouch at her waist, and strolled lightly toward the palace. "I really wonder what awaits us inside."
"So exciting."
———
Edward returned to 11 Yadin Street.
By now, the Church of the God of Steam and Machinery's Machinery Hivemind had taken over the street. So mbers were dealing with the civilians who had perished in the plague, while others worked to comfort survivors and search the area.
Edward imdiately spotted two familiar faces—the future archbishop, Horamick, and his captain. Both wore heavy expressions.
Because of Space Concealnt and False Reality, the original scene of the attack—the villa at No. 11—remained unnoticed. To outsiders, it still stood intact, as if nothing had happened.
Hesitating briefly before the ruins, Edward finally raised his hand. "Reparo Maxima."
In an instant, the shattered debris began to rewind as though ti itself were turning back. Within half a minute, the wreckage reassembled into the villa's pristine form.
He stepped inside, flipped a coin to confirm safety, then ended the summoning and returned to the Sefirah Castle—before descending back into reality once more.
Walking to the bay window on the second floor, he gazed down at the busy Machinery Hivemind operatives. Doubt gnawed at him: even when a demigod-level Beyonder had gone on a killing spree, why hadn't the Church of the God of Steam and Machinery's archbishop appeared?
Could it be…the Church and Intis had struck so kind of agreent—not to interfere in this matter?
But why?
On what grounds could Intis persuade the Church?
"Eh?"
A hoarse, elderly voice suddenly sounded behind him. The Coward had returned, his wrinkled face full of astonishnt. "Didn't think you'd know the Snake of rcury—enough to record His Reboot." ɴᴇᴡ ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀʀᴇ ᴘᴜʙʟɪsʜᴇᴅ ᴏɴ novel•fire
Edward's heart jolted. How had this man appeared so silently? Even with the stolen witch's Invisibility, his spiritual intuition should have sensed him!
"I knew it," the Coward went on, smiling faintly. "Since you moved out the residents ahead of ti, there's no way you'd sit by and let a Demoness massacre ordinary people. Hah. Such fascinating humanity."
He then plucked out a crystal-carved monocle and perched it over his right eye.
"Mhm…you can't use that special ability to return to the Sefirah Castle at will anymore, can you?"
———
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