While Rowan hovered in place, studying the black glove taken from Zilingus, the aftermath of the attempted assassination continued to unfold below.
Duke Nigen and his escorts finished stabilizing the estate and quickly followed the trail of destruction outside.
They found a small figure floating beside a corpse.
Silence fell.
Zilingus lay motionless.
Dead.
And standing beside him was an infant.
A dozen thoughts surfaced at once.
Was the child a host?
A reincarnated entity?
An unknown monster?
Friend or foe?
No one dared move, but every hand subtly shifted closer to weapons and talismans.
Then Duke Nigen broke the stalemate.
He stared carefully at the child’s face.
"...Are you the Barton couple’s baby?"
He rembered glancing at the child earlier that evening. The sa features. The sa clothes. The sa faint presence.
Rowan nodded.
"Yes. Which ans you already know I’m not your enemy."
The tension eased by a fraction.
Rowan could have vanished before anyone arrived.
He chose not to.
He had no need to hide in shadows and scrape by cautiously.
Both major churches already knew he existed.
There was no harm in letting the kingdom’s upper echelons know as well.
Allies were resources.
Resources ant options.
Understanding dawned across Duke Nigen’s face.
So the strange attention Jack Barton had received had never been about Jack at all.
It was about his son.
A child capable of killing soone who could rival top-tier operatives.
At minimum, this existence stood among the highest ranks of the supernatural world.
Possibly higher.
Before anyone could speak further, powerful gusts tore across the courtyard.
More than a dozen figures descended from the sky.
mbers of the Church of Storms.
At the forefront were Cardinal Ace Snak and Senior Deacon Redar Valentine.
Rowan recognized them instantly.
Among the group was another familiar presence.
Dark blue hair.
Weathered features.
Bronze skin shaped by endless ti at sea.
Alger Wilson.
The Hanged Man.
Alger’s gaze locked onto Zilingus’s corpse.
The tension he had carried for years finally loosened.
Zilingus had been a shadow from his past.
A reminder of blood, desperation, and a cri committed in youth that could never be spoken aloud.
With Zilingus gone, that past could finally stay buried.
Rowan raised a small hand.
"Good evening, Ace. Redar."
The two Storm clergy confird the situation with Duke Nigen, then turned back to Rowan.
"Good thing you were here," Redar said seriously. "Otherwise he might have escaped."
"Convenient timing," Rowan replied. "I’ll be trading him to Crestay for sothing useful."
A mont later, mbers of the Church of the Night Goddess arrived as well.
They lacked flight abilities and were slower.
Crestay stepped forward, inspecting the corpse.
"With his value, you can exchange this for a high-grade potion."
Rowan nodded.
Duke Nigen approached with a polite smile.
"To express my gratitude, I offer ten thousand gold pounds as reward."
It was both genuine thanks and an investnt.
Relationships with beings of this level were priceless.
Nearby, Alger listened, stunned.
So the one who killed Zilingus was... the baby?
Justice had reported that Mr. Strength was present.
Strength had confird it himself.
Which ant—
Alger’s eyes t Rowan’s.
The infant blinked once.
Then subtly ford a familiar hand sign.
A signal only Tarot Club mbers knew.
Alger’s heart nearly stopped.
It really was Strength.
Soul of an adult.
Body of a child.
How exactly that worked no longer mattered.
The problem was solved.
And that was enough.
Rowan glanced toward the manor.
"My parents are looking for . I should return."
A snap of his fingers.
A tiny fla blood in the nursery.
He looked back at Duke Nigen.
"Please instruct the nursery staff to keep tonight’s details confidential. I’d prefer anonymity for now."
Before anyone could respond, Rowan vanished in a flicker of fire.
He reappeared inside the nursery, settling neatly back into his crib.
The maid searching for him froze in terror and stumbled backward.
Seconds later, Jack and Chris rushed in.
Seeing Rowan safe and sound, they both exhaled in relief.
Neither of them knew what had truly happened outside.
Only that they had survived a night that would be whispered about across Beckland for years.
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