170 Nightstalkers
Lumian brandished Hedsey’s dagger, a sly grin forming on his face.
“I’ve got a question for you.”
“You could’ve co straight to . No need for all this,” Ait instinctively tried to stall for ti.
With a quick glance, he scanned the room from the corner of his eye, but there were no lifeless bodies to be found.
Based on his combat with Ciel, Ait knew it was impossible for the other party to eliminate ten ard thugs without a single one escaping.
In fact, even Ait himself wouldn’t dare to face the encirclent of ten revolvers in such a confined space. He might take down three or four of them, but he would surely et his demise.
If Ait, with his abilities, couldn’t pull it off, there was no way Ciel—who he believed to be sowhat weaker and reliant on cunning strategies—could achieve such a feat.
Given the circumstances, Ait assud most of his ten subordinates had fled, while a few might have sought assistance from the Black Scorpion.
With this realization, a strong desire to survive surged within Ait.
As long as I don’t anger Ciel and can buy myself six to seven minutes, there’s a good chance I’ll be saved!
“If I hadn’t done this, how else could I have crossed paths with you, considering my relationship with your Poison Spur Mob?” Lumian deliberately created the illusion that he didn’t intend to spill blood.
He raised the dagger, emphasizing his point.
“Enough with the gas. Answer my questions. You know I’m not a patient person. If you refuse or lie, I’ll end your life right here. I can always ask ‘Baldy’ Harman later. After all, there are plenty of folks in your Poison Spur Mob who know about those matters.”
Lumian had compelled the mobsters to depart, not only due to the situation but also to seize control of the situation.
If he didn’t make Ait believe he still had a fighting chance, prying answers from him in a short amount of ti without employing mystical ans would be futile.
A person who clung to hope would fear death all the more!
Ait promptly responded, “Alright!”
He resolved to divulge so information, delving into the details, hoping to hold out for those crucial six to seven minutes.
Naturally, he contemplated whether Ciel might abandon the inquiry at the last mont and execute him. Yet, aside from cooperating, Ait had no other choice. He could only hope the information he shared would be valuable enough to captivate Ciel’s interest and prevent an untily demise.
About three minutes… Lumian silently counted the seconds and posed his next question.
“Have you encountered Louis Lund?”
Ait hesitated.
In a swift motion, Lumian swung the dagger, piercing Ait’s shoulder and eliciting a gush of crimson blood.
Ait, his expression contorted, felt the unyielding ruthlessness emanating from Lumian and sensed the specter of impending death drawing near. Fear gripped his heart.
He blurted out, “Yes! Wanted posters for Louis Lund can be found in Salle de Gristmill and many other places. The mont I laid eyes on him at the Boss’s hideout, I recognized him.”
Ait realized he couldn’t rely on silence and hesitation to gain more ti. That would only lead to uncontrollable consequences.
Lying was also risky since he couldn’t be certain which questions Ciel was using to test his honesty.
In comparison, offering convoluted yet seemingly valuable information would be more likely to appease the other party.
As expected… Lumian was delighted.
Having confird the connection between Louis Lund and the Poison Spur Mob’s “Black Scorpion” Roger, Lumian had achieved his objective for this operation. The remaining questions were just an added bonus. It would be nice to get answers, but it wouldn’t be a deal-breaker if he didn’t.
“Why did he go to ‘Black Scorpion’ Roger?” Lumian inquired further.
Ait shook his head.
“I’m not aware of the specifics, but I’ve heard that the lady Louis Lund is loyal to has arrived in Trier. She wants our Poison Spur Mob and their respective spheres of influence to coordinate efforts and avoid conflicts.
“Our boss, with the approval of Mada Moon, took charge of the liaison.”
“Mada Moon?” Lumian never expected another Mada Moon to enter the picture.
He didn’t even know what was happening with Mada Night.
“Mada Moon is the one the Poison Spur Mob swears loyalty to. Well, our boss has ntioned that she’s not just a Mada anymore, but a Lady who Births Deities. We often offer prayers to her. I haven’t seen her myself; only the Boss and Baldy have.”
Not Mada… From Mada Moon to Lady who Births Deities… Had she received more boons and elevated her status? Lumian nodded in understanding.
“What’s the relationship between Mada Moon and Mada Night?”
“They both belong to an organization called the Nightstalkers. Mada Moon appears to be the leader, or at least a significant figure at the leadership level.” Ait provided a convoluted description of what he knew.
A secret organization that believes in so hidden existence? Lumian redirected the conversation to the matter that intrigued him the most.
“Will Louis Lund visit ‘Black Scorpion’ Roger again?”
“He’ll likely co back next week to check if everyone has followed through on their agreents and if any adjustnts are needed. I don’t know the exact timing,” Ait honestly responded.
I’ll have the chance to reunite with Louis Lund on Avenue du Marché next week? And I’ll be stationed there permanently after Sunday! Lumian felt a surge of delight and excitent.
He then pressed on, asking,
“What kind of power does ‘Black Scorpion’ Roger possess?”
“H-he’s a Heretic Spellmaster,” Ait stamred instinctively. “Our boss said it himself. The essence of a Heretic Spellmaster is using their life force to cast spells. It can be their own life force or soone else’s, but it seems they need to be controlled beforehand.”
So he truly is a Heretic Spellmaster… Truly wicked and cruel… Lumian recalled the battle with the midwife.
Observing Lumian’s lack of surprise, Ait felt a sense of relief for not lying. He continued, “I’ve witnessed him using a few spells. One is a peculiar curse, another involves manipulating blood, then there’s a kind of black fla that weakens people, and finally, he has so effects on corpses and ghosts. I don’t know much else.”
There’s at least one more—the ability to create a ‘turf’ filled with undead creatures, allowing him to share damage and mysteriously teleport… Lumian silently muttered, his gaze fixed on Ait, gesturing for him to continue.
Ait steeled himself and spoke.
“Our boss also ntioned that if we perform well, he might receive more boons and beco a Sower.”
Having said that, Ait regretted his decision not to choose a boon back then and instead opt for a potion. It had caused his progress to be hindered by the need for ingredients and other factors. The hope of reaching Sequence 7 seed distant.
As long as one contributed enough and their body could withstand it, they could attain more boons.
A Sower? A symbol of abundance and life? Hmm, when Mada Pualis was still Pulitt, he had many illegitimate children. He was despised by countless people in the Dariège area, to the point that his family had to disown him and pretend he had gone missing… Could this be a manifestation of a Sower’s powers? Did Pulitt lose control under the influence of the boons? And after becoming a Sower, it appears that he underwent a gender transformation. Is that the level equivalent to the Madas, or is it one Sequence higher than them? Lumian’s mind raced with nurous thoughts.
Observing Lumian’s expression, Ait continued speaking.
“I don’t know what cos after Sower. All I know is that Wilson is a Villain, equivalent to Sequence 9. Harman is a Gardener, and his strength is similar to mine, but he possesses extensive knowledge of botany. He can create potions with magical effects. Yes, he has a potion that temporarily hardens his skin like tree bark. I tried slashing him with a knife, but he only suffered minor injuries. He also has dicines to treat various illnesses and injuries.”
So, becoming a Heretic Spellmaster requires being a Gardener. No wonder the midwife used those giant scissors as a weapon… Fortunately, I obtained this information. If I had assassinated “Baldy” Harman without giving him ti to react, he wouldn’t have used his body to shield Fallen rcury… Targeted intelligence is truly valuable… Lumian sighed with a mix of emotions.
Ait pondered for a mont and continued, “Harman once ntioned that the spiritual monsters born from trees and flowers beco highly frightened when they see him since he is a Gardener and responsible for their pruning.”
Ait, who was trying to buy more ti, quickly brought up another topic.
“Our boss ntioned that among the unrecognized paramount beings, only three can bestow godhood without much difficulty. One is the Great Mother of our faith, another has ‘Desire’ and ‘Tree’ in its na, and the third appears to be a mysterious fog. As for the other beings, if they wish to grant godhood, they have to perform a very, very complex ritual that would easily be discovered and destroyed.”
The Mother Tree of Desire? What sets them apart from the being with the na Inevitability? Why can they bestow godhood without the need for an extensive ritual? Heh heh, I wonder what will happen when a Gardener encounters a Fallen Tree Spirit, the latter undergoing a suppression brought about by their inherent order in the hierarchy? Lumian’s thoughts raced, and he suddenly changed the subject.
“Who is the candidate for parliant you support?”
“It’s Hugues Artois from the Enlightennt Party.” Ait’s anticipation grew as he noticed that quite so ti had passed.
If those rascals hurry, they’ll et the Boss!
Ait, who was waiting for Lumian to ask about the Poison Spur Mob’s recent plans, suddenly saw the other party raise his right hand and swing his dagger.
With a soft sound, the dagger pierced Ait’s temples and stirred them a few tis.
Ait’s mouth hung open in horror, and his eyes grew desperate and unfocused.
With a thud, he collapsed, no longer drawing breath.
Lumian left the dagger lodged in Ait’s head and swiftly bandaged his wounds. He then stowed away his belongings, shouldered the lifeless body, and pushed open the room’s window before leaping down.
Since it was only the second floor, his landing was steady, and he broke into a run.
Instead of taking the most direct route, Lumian opted for a detour through Rue du Rossignol, making his way to Avenue du Marché.
The late-night atmosphere offered scarce street lamps, casting a pitch-black darkness that seed to consu anyone on the road.
It took Lumian over two minutes to carry Ait’s corpse to the entrance of Salle de Bal Brise.
The two mobsters guarding the entrance were about to halt him when they recognized Ciel’s face.
As a result, they ceased their interference and allowed him to enter.
…
In the second-floor café, Louis approached Baron Brignais’s side, carrying a stack of papers, a black revolver, a bayonet, and a bag of bullets.
“Baron, I have everything prepared for Ciel.”
More information and weapons.
Baron Brignais nodded.
“Send them to Auberge du Coq Doré tomorrow morning.”
After issuing the instructions, Baron Brignais spoke with anticipation, “I wonder what kind of performance he will stage for us and when he will make his move. Do you think he will choose ‘Hamr’ Ait, ‘Baldy’ Harman, or ‘Short-legged Candlestick’…”
Before Baron Brignais could finish his sentence, the sound of approaching footsteps interrupted him.
The mobster guarding the first-floor entrance wore a terrified expression as he addressed Baron Brignais, “C-Ciel is here! He—he’s carrying soone—or rather, a corpse!”
At that mont, Lumian erged from the staircase, a smile on his face. His steps seed heavier than usual.
“That is?” Baron Brignais looked at the lifeless body trailing behind Ciel, a mixture of confusion and seriousness on his face.
Lumian tossed the corpse to the ground, clapped his hands, and grinned.
“‘Hamr’ Ait.”
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