The instant the voice reached his ears, Derrick froze solid, every inch of his skin drawing tight, hair standing on end.
How is he behind me?
How did he get into my room?
Cold sweat beaded on Derrick's forehead. His instinct was to whip around and look — but he caught himself immediately. It was something he'd learned since joining the exploration team: plenty of monsters lurking in the dark could kill you the moment your gaze met theirs, in this exact kind of trap.
But not looking didn't mean he was safe either. Derrick raised both hands, clasping them into fists in front of his chest, ready to activate his ability and strike at any moment, and only then, slowly, bit by bit, began to turn.
The room was steeped in deep darkness, impossible to make anything out — but in Derrick's eyes, two points of golden light swelled outward, forming a pair of miniature suns.
Through this "Light-Petitioner" ability, he saw a dark silhouette sitting quietly across the room. The shadow sharpened rapidly, revealing a head split vertically down the middle, hideous and terrifying to look at.
But it seemed to feel nothing at all, staring straight at Derrick with two eyes, one set into each half of that split skull. Its voice, once old and creaking, suddenly twisted, turning young:
"Where did you just go? Why do I smell something so familiar on you?"
The question sent every hair on Derrick's body standing on end at once. One single thought filled his mind: This "thing" knows I just went to Mr. Fool's Divine Kingdom for the gathering!
Derrick quickly raised his clasped fists from his chest to his chin, as if in prayer. The cramped room suddenly brightened, a pure beam of light, wreathed in flame, descending from the ceiling and striking the creature.
But the creature didn't seem hurt by the scorching light at all — it simply advanced slowly, twisted and lurching, straight into the beam. On that face split cleanly in two, the left half of its mouth curved open wide, while the right half stayed clamped shut.
"Tell me... where did you just go?"
"Where. Did. You. Go?!"
Derrick's face went pale. He said nothing, only continuing to pour spirituality into the beam, sustaining its holy power — and it was right then that the sacred beam suddenly thickened, and a silhouette that looked like a "Being of Light" burst free, lunging at the creature.
The next instant, the creature convulsed violently, breaking apart rapidly under the burning glare of the "Being of Light," melting away, dissolving.
Just as it turned nearly transparent, an eerie illusory figure abruptly appeared in its place — clad in a black classical robe, a pointed soft cap atop its head!
This illusory figure had black eyes, black pupils, a broad forehead, a gaunt face, and wore a monocle carved from crystal. The corner of its mouth curled slightly upward into a pleased smile — and then it dissolved away.
Derrick stood frozen. He recognized this illusory figure — it was unmistakably the Angel of Time depicted on the mural in the half-ruined temple!
A flood of questions surged through his mind, one after another: was that really the Angel of Time? Didn't the history books say it had once been Silver City's guardian, its steward? So why had it turned into a monster now, and why had it attacked him? Had that "familiar scent" it mentioned really been referring to Mr. Fool's Divine Kingdom? Did it know Mr. Fool?
"So close."
An old voice sounded, and only then did Derrick notice a tall figure standing nearby — hair streaked with gray, poorly kept, disheveled, deep and twisted old scars scattered across his face. This was the Chief of Silver City, Colin Eliade.
Derrick froze for a moment, then broke into relieved, startled joy, like someone who'd just survived a close brush with death: "Your Excellency, Chief!"
Chief Colin turned, looking at Derrick, his tone even. "You saw that illusory figure too, didn't you?"
"Yes — yes, I did."
"Did you recognize who it was?"
"The... Angel of Time?"
Colin sighed softly. "Yes. And no."
While Derrick scratched his head in confusion, Colin asked, "Why the sudden interest in the Angel of Time — enough to start collecting information about it?"
Derrick tensed at once. "It's — it's because I came across some information about it by chance, and when I wanted to know more, I found the history books had no record of it at all. That's what made me curious, and so..."
"..."
Colin fixed him with a steady stare, until Derrick lowered his eyes, unable to meet his gaze.
Just as Derrick was bracing himself to confess everything, Colin suddenly closed his eyes. "Your case has already gone through review. You don't need to stay here any longer. You're free to go."
Derrick blinked. "...All right."
Colin turned and walked toward the door, but paused just as he pulled it open, glancing back over his shoulder. "Come find me in three days. I'll give you some information on the Angel of Time."
"Thank you, Your Excellency!"
Watching the Chief leave, Derrick finally let out a breath of relief: just as he'd thought — after discovering the "anomaly" on him, the Chief hadn't just spared him harm, but had actually offered to provide information on the Angel of Time himself.
He really was exactly as Mr. Lovers had said — desperate enough for Silver City's future to grab onto any shred of hope he could find.
I will find a way to lead Silver City out of this place!
...
After "Cleya" returned to her room, Melissa headed back to her own to rest as well — though she didn't feel remotely sleepy. She sat by the window, alternating between resting her chin on her hand and staring blankly outside, and picking up an occult book to read carefully.
She rested her chin on her hand, closing the book, muttering quietly to herself: "I wonder when — and how — the person my teacher told me to wait for is going to show up."
"Why not just go find him yourself?"
Medici's figure emerged from her bracelet, arms crossed, humming in displeasure. "Do you have any idea you're just wasting time here?"
"Because I don't even know where to look."
"Tell me who you're looking for, and I'll take you there."
Melissa asked, puzzled, "But you've been sealed away there for over a thousand years. Are you sure you still know your way around out here?"
"..."
"Honestly, I don't know who to look for either." She shrugged. "My teacher just had me pass along information about the tomb you were sealed in to a contact in the Intis Republic. She said all I needed to do after that was be patient, and someone would naturally come find me eventually."
Medici pursed its lips. "Sounds like a lot of unnecessary mystery."
It was quiet for a moment, then suddenly asked, "Who exactly is your teacher?"
"Ugh, I've told you so many times already — I don't know who she is either..."
"Heh. She won't even tell you who she is, and you're still foolish enough to call her your teacher? Not afraid you're being sold off and helping count the money yourself?"
Melissa was quiet for a few seconds. "So what if I'm afraid? You don't think I actually have a choice here, do you?"
Medici was about to say something more, but suddenly its brow furrowed, turning to look in one direction. "Here's some advice for you."
"What?"
"Get out of here. Right now!"
"What's wrong?"
"Something dangerous just showed up."
"Is it that serial killer?"
Medici gave a cold laugh. "Calling her a serial killer is fair enough, I suppose — the number of people who've died at her hands has got to be in the thousands by now, maybe tens of thousands."
Melissa's pupils shrank. "!!!"
...
In the living room on the other side of the wall, Ikanser suddenly sat bolt upright on the sofa. Just a moment ago, he'd felt a frantic, spiritual warning surge through him.
He tried to stand, but his legs suddenly gave out beneath him, and he sank back down, immediately followed by an itch in his throat that sent him into violent, uncontrollable coughing, his chest burning as if it had caught fire.
A few seconds later, coughing broke out all around him, one after another, accompanied by the sound of bodies collapsing to the floor. Ikanser forced himself to move, crawling toward the door, his vision growing blurrier, his coughing more violent by the second.
Click.
Just as he came within a meter of the door, it swung gently open on its own, and a figure in a long black dress stepped inside. Barefoot, she strolled past Ikanser as if out for a leisurely walk, heading straight for the room where Klein was staying.
She was a woman of striking, exquisite beauty, though her eyes carried a hidden sorrow. If Klein had seen her, he would have recognized her immediately — the very same witch who had once slipped that sapphire ring onto his finger.
Clarisse.
To be continued…
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