"Alright, next, we just need to ask him who the killer is."
After finishing casting the spell, Allen raised a hand and wiped the fine sweat beading on his forehead.
The moment his words fell, a sharp sound of air being torn apart split the night. Shaw suddenly erupted on the spot, his figure darting forward like a ghost across several steps, attempting to subdue Allen.
"Speak—" his voice carried a bone-chilling coldness. "Who are you?"
Although Wren had his suspicions about Allen, his body moved on instinct. He stepped sideways, forcibly placing himself in front of Allen, raising his hand to block the dagger Shaw thrust forward.
Clang!
Metal collided, sending out a few sparks as the two quickly exchanged several moves among the grave mounds.
Only after shielding Allen did Wren inwardly curse himself for being an idiot.
Had he been pretending to be Allen's retainer for so long that he'd actually turned stupid?
This guy had just used necromancy—and you're still protecting him?
Stella was not to be outdone. Though her small face had turned deathly pale, she still pulled out a round engineering grenade from her pocket, her little hand gripping the ring, ready to yank the fuse at any moment.
"Shaw, stop!"
Varian's voice rang out suddenly, carrying unquestionable authority.
Shaw's figure halted, his assault abruptly ceasing. He stepped back half a pace, though the dagger remained in his hand, his gaze fixed on Allen with vigilance.
In the surrounding darkness, several lurking figures also restrained themselves—it was SI:7 agents, arrows already drawn, awaiting only a command.
The mass grave fell silent once more, with only the sound of the night wind rustling through the wild grass.
Varian stepped forward a few paces, the moonlight falling across his young face.
"Mr. Prestor." His voice was calm, yet carried pressure. "Why can you use necromancy?"
Allen took a deep breath.
He had long prepared an answer to this question.
"As you know, the mad king of Alterac, Aiden Perenolde, once cooperated with the Horde."
Allen met Varian's gaze, speaking at a steady pace, his expression composed. "Those green-skinned monsters shared some… rather peculiar spells with him. Although my family does not approve of the mad king's actions, records of those spells were scattered. By chance, I happened to come across part of them."
He paused, spreading his hands in a candid gesture. "But I've only learned a little that isn't too evil. For example, this—it's called 'Speak with Dead.'"
He pointed at the corpse that was still sitting upright.
"I'm merely awakening a dead person and having a brief conversation with him. Nothing more. We can ask him five questions, and after that, he will return to his eternal rest. If you truly don't believe me…"
He looked at Varian again, his gaze sincere. "Then you may ask the questions yourself."
Allen waited.
He waited for the system's persuasion check notification.
Yet nothing happened.
Varian simply stared at him for a few seconds, then, to everyone's surprise, nodded.
"I believe you."
He turned to Shaw, his tone leaving no room for objection. "Lower your weapon. Shaw, you will ask him who the killer is."
Allen was stunned.
Just like that… he believed him?
Shaw was also taken aback, but he quickly sheathed his dagger, took a deep breath, and walked up to the corpse.
Under the moonlight, the corpse's hollow eye sockets faced him. The stench of decay lingered in his nose. Shaw suppressed the discomfort in his heart and spoke: "You… are you the captain of the guards of the De Montmorency family, Harvey Granger?"
Harvey slowly turned his head, the motion like that of a rusted machine.
"Yes." His voice was hoarse, as if coming from the bottom of a deep well. "I am."
Shaw let out a long breath and turned to look at Allen. "Four questions left, right?"
"Yes." Harvey nodded.
Shaw jerked his head back in shock. "No, no, I wasn't asking you!"
He then turned back to Allen to confirm, "Did that count as one question just now?"
"Yes." Harvey nodded again in affirmation.
Shaw slapped his forehead with a crisp smack.
"Friend," his voice trembled slightly, "please only answer when I'm speaking to you, alright?"
"Alright." Harvey nodded.
Wren, watching from the side, couldn't help the twitch at the corner of his eye. Finally unable to hold back, he put his hands on his hips and questioned Shaw: "Why do you add 'alright?' to the end of every sentence?"
"I don't." Harvey shook his head.
After saying that, it seemed as though he had completed some kind of mission. He suddenly fell backward—
Thud.
Lying stiffly back into his coffin, without the slightest trace of life.
The mass grave sank into deathly silence.
The night wind swept past, the wild grass rustling. In the distance, an owl hooted, as if mocking something.
Allen, standing to the side, delivered a timely follow-up, his tone as calm as if he were commenting on the weather: "Alright, where's the shovel? I think we can keep digging."
...
Some time later.
In front of another grave mound, Shaw was digging alone in silence.
The shovel plunged into the soil again and again, his movements fast and forceful, as if venting something.
Under the moonlight, his expression was so dark it looked like a storm was about to break.
He regretted it deeply.
To have performed a farce with a corpse in front of Varian, wasting all their limited question opportunities completely.
He took a deep breath and continued digging.
Finally, the shovel struck the coffin. He pried open the lid and stepped aside.
Varian walked forward, placing a hand over his chest toward the corpse inside the coffin, offering a quiet apology.
Then he turned to Allen, a trace of helplessness in his eyes.
"I think… it's better if you ask this time."
Allen nodded without saying much, stepping forward once more toward the corpse.
He closed his eyes, and the low, obscure incantation flowed once again from his lips. Those ancient syllables drifted through the night wind, carrying a presence that did not belong to the living.
The corpse trembled, then sat up.
Allen thought for a moment. He felt that Shaw's earlier method of confirming identity had actually been correct.
After all, this was a mass grave. If they dug up the wrong person, not only would the answers be useless, they might even mislead the direction of the investigation.
"Are you a guard of the De Montmorency family, David?"
"Yes," David answered.
Allen nodded.
"Who killed you?"
David fell silent for a moment.
Those hollow eye sockets stared at the night sky, as if recalling something.
"I didn't see clearly," he said.
"Then, near the De Montmorency family's villa, did you see any orcs?"
"No."
Allen fell silent for a while.
He changed his angle.
"On the day you died, were there any outsiders in the De Montmorency family's villa?"
David sank into silence again.
Time passed second by second. Just when Allen thought he would not answer, he spoke: "Yes."
"That day, three distant relatives came," his voice came in fragments, as if piecing together shattered memories. "The master's… cousin's family… stayed overnight…"
He paused for a long time again.
Then he said, "Also…"
"Also the tutor… the master hired… for the young lady."
Allen's heartbeat skipped.
"What is the tutor's name?"
David struggled to recall, then finally spoke: "Stalvan…"
His voice grew fainter and fainter, like a candle in the wind.
"Stalvan Mistmantle."
After saying the last word, the faint light in the corpse's eyes completely extinguished. It fell backward, lying once more in the coffin, returning to eternal silence.
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