Chapter 113: The Authority of the “Moon”

Chapter 113: The Authority of the “Moon”

The red-nosed man rushed several steps to the safe, took a wireless telegraph receiver and a codebook from a hidden compartment, then crouched there and rapidly translated the news of Charlie Rake’s accident into a telegram. With crackling sounds, he began transmitting it.

Meanwhile, inside the building where Rake’s Bookstore was located, the brown-skinned maid rolled up her sleeve and poured a bottle of indigo liquid over her left arm.

The skin there immediately changed color. Beneath the indigo, however, streaks of black light protruded, like wandering nematodes.

These streaks of black light quickly converged into a bizarre face half the size of a palm, with eyes as small as grains of rice and a mouth as large as a saucer.

“Charlie Rake has met with an accident,” the maid said to the face on her arm, enunciating every word.

Every word she uttered seemed to gain its own shape, becoming indigo-colored entities that protruded between her mouth and her arm.

Immediately afterward, those words, as though written into being one after another, intertwined and were wrapped in smoke of the same color.

At that moment, the strange face on the maid’s arm actually opened its mouth little by little and inhaled the indigo smoke and words together.

All abnormalities vanished after that. Only the patch of skin on the maid’s arm had yet to recover its original color.

Outside the window, in the darkness, a tiny, ordinary bat flapped its wings, shifting from stillness into motion and flying to who knew where.

…

On another street less than five hundred meters from Rake’s Bookstore, above a restaurant specializing in Southern Continent cuisine, one tiny bat after another flew out from the darkness, gathering together and rising into thick smoke.

The smoke and the bats seemed to be only illusory. In the blink of an eye, they disappeared, leaving behind only the figure of a man dressed in a tailcoat but without the matching hat.

This man was tall, thin, and exceptionally upright. His hair was light, close to silver, and his eyes were crimson, as though blood was hidden within them. It was the Sanguine count, Mistral.

He raised his left hand, on which he wore a ring set with a deep-blue gemstone, touched his slightly ostentatious cravat, and looked down at the restaurant whose doors had long since been closed.

“The two pieces of intelligence both ultimately converged here.”

No sooner had Mistral finished speaking than a figure outlined itself before him. She wore a deep-black court dress and a small soft hat of the same color. Her hair was pale gold, her eyes blue, and her face pale, like the most exquisite doll.

The trees along the street below suddenly swayed softly, and the light from the gas streetlamps flickered at the same time.

“A Puppet.” Count Mistral nodded slightly, recognizing Sharron’s identity and status.

Sharron did not look at him. Gazing at the restaurant’s second floor, she said,

“There are residual traces of worship toward the Mother Tree of Desire.”

“Then there is no problem.” Mistral turned in midair and nodded toward the region where the darkness was thickest. “Lord Nibais, please seal this place.”

An aged, deep sigh sounded immediately afterward. A pair of wings covered in dark membranes and filled with countless patterns and symbols suddenly stretched out from that patch of darkness. They grew larger and wider, fully enveloping the surrounding area within two or three seconds.

The restaurant sank at once into abnormal darkness, as though it had been moved out of the real world.

Mistral did not hesitate further, nor did he directly attack. He took out a bronze box inlaid with several rubies and removed an object from within.

It was a transparent glass sphere shaped like an eyeball.

Then this Sanguine count’s expression twisted slightly in pain as he let the glass sphere leave his fingers and fall downward.

In the darkness, the glass sphere emitted specks of light by itself. As though attracted by something, it continuously adjusted its direction in midair.

In the end, it fell into a certain room on the second floor of the restaurant.

A blazing, brilliant white light erupted. It was as if a “sun” had risen inside that room, illuminating everything and causing all filth, degeneration, evil, undeath, and darkness to melt away rapidly.

“Huh…” Mistral, who had already closed his eyes, suddenly furrowed his brows and let out a puzzled sound.

He had not sensed any resistance from within the restaurant!

Sharron, whose gaze had already shifted from looking down to looking straight ahead, showed no change in expression, but the pale-gold hair bound tightly beneath her hat seemed to tremble almost imperceptibly.

After that “sun” rose, it quickly “set.” The blazing white light sank helplessly into the darkness.

Because this was an item targeting evil spirits, the building housing the restaurant itself had not suffered any real damage. Count Mistral opened his eyes and looked for two seconds. Then he reached out his right hand and abruptly grabbed upward.

The darkness above the restaurant instantly came alive, transforming into illusory shackles that bound the entire roof.

Amid teeth-aching creaks, the roof was forcibly pulled up by the shackles and suspended in midair.

With that obstacle gone, Mistral and Sharron both clearly saw the situation inside the target room.

A wireless telegraph receiver sat on a square table covered with a tablecloth. Beside it lay the translated telegram. Opposite it, on the floor, there was an indigo, charred mark.

On the other side of the room stood an old piano. Its bench was brown and seemed to have just been moved.

On top of the piano was a glass of red wine. Soaking in it was a flesh-colored, sticky, bizarre little person.

The remaining furnishings and decorations were like those of an ordinary home, except for some extra herbal powders and spilled essential oils and hydrosols.

Through the revelations she could directly obtain from the spirit world, an idea vaguely appeared in Sharron’s mind:

The people here had only just left!

Before she, Count Mistral, and Marquis Nibais could make any response, the red wine soaking the flesh-colored little person began emitting hazy, clear radiance.

That light swelled instantly and became bright, forming what appeared to be an enormous “red moon” inside the room.

The “red moon’s” glow dispelled the darkness in this region, giving the participating demigods the feeling that they were standing on the ground and looking up at the sky.

Sharron’s blue eyes seemed to freeze for an instant. Her left hand suddenly lifted, turning lightly to reveal a dark-red ornament resting in her palm.

The ornament was shaped like a full moon. One scarlet gemstone after another was embedded around its edges, while its center was covered in moon symbols and many mysterious marks.

This was the Crimson Moon Crown that Sharron had obtained with Sherlock Moriarty’s help. It constantly released tranquil radiance, allowing its holder to become immune to the effects of the full moon.

However, the “red moon” inside the restaurant was not merely a full moon. It was closer to a blood moon, perhaps even beyond one. Because of that, indescribable spiritual power was born, making the area isolated by Nibais’s enormous wings appear bewitching and deeply silent. Even while holding the Crimson Moon Crown, Sharron could feel the malicious thoughts within her expanding, and could sense unimaginable changes brewing inside her body.

She instinctively wanted to transform into an evil spirit and hide inside objects like roadside trees and gas streetlamps, but reason stopped her impulse, because the illumination of that “red moon” left no blind spot.

At that moment, Count Mistral saw his stomach swelling bit by bit. He felt the pulse of life slowly gathering within him, trying to take shape.

As an extraordinary creature that could borrow the power of the “moon,” he had not prepared any additional method to erase the effects of a blood moon. He had originally thought that, in such an environment, he would be filled with joy and able to unleash his full strength. He had never imagined the situation’s transformation would be so strange and far beyond his expectations.

He felt that if this continued, he would give birth to a new life—an evil, terrifying life whose origin was unknown.

The authority of the “Moon” itself contained reproduction and proliferation!

At the same time, across the pair of enormous bat wings that had covered the surroundings and created the darkness, dense white hairs sprouted one after another, looking especially horrifying.

Nibais gave a low grunt, and cracks appeared in the seal over this region.

Several streets away, Emlyn White was boredly rubbing the Oath of the Rose ring set with a deep-blue gemstone when he suddenly obtained Count Mistral’s current senses. He saw what Mistral saw and heard the sounds Mistral heard.

Some of Count Mistral’s feelings and thoughts, after accumulating for a long while, also passed into Emlyn’s mind. With only a brief distinction, he was so frightened that he sat bolt upright. His expression twisted, his stomach churned, and he had the urge to vomit.

Klein’s true body was relying on Creeping Hunger and hiding in the shadows outside the restaurant, while the marionette he controlled, Qonas Kilgor, had long since infiltrated the darkness created by Nibais. Using Distortion, he had bypassed the isolation and maintained the connection of the Spirit Body Threads.

At that moment, under the illumination of that illusory “red moon,” he discovered in astonishment that even a marionette—something essentially dead—seemed to possess a tendency toward self-reproduction.

And that new life would inevitably be a child of the Mother Tree of Desire!

This… this is similar to certain manifestations of Lilith, the Sanguine progenitor in the mythology of the City of Silver, and of the Primordial Moon that Emlyn mentioned… As expected, the Mother Tree of Desire has already grasped part of the Moon’s authority and infected it into something especially bizarre, even more bizarre than it originally was… Klein was about to swap positions with his marionette, enter the range of the red moon’s illumination, and take Miss Sharron away through Teleportation when an indescribable joy suddenly rose in his heart.

It was the joy of seeing a flower in one’s own garden slowly bloom amid the dawn mist after a long night. It was the joy of leaving a great metropolis for the outskirts, breathing fresh air in rain-washed woods, and seeing mushrooms grow. It was the joy of all things flourishing and new life descending.

Every strand of white hair on the huge bat wings covering the surroundings fell away. Count Mistral’s slightly protruding stomach shrank back. Sharron, who had been bitterly holding on with the Crimson Moon Crown, seemed to have a far more relaxed gaze.

Immediately afterward, the “red moon” inside the restaurant rapidly dimmed, as though someone had drained away a great amount of its radiance.

Finally, the “red moon” disappeared, and everything returned to normal.

Was that the Sanguine duke, Olmer, making his move? Klein nodded thoughtfully and continued hiding in the shadows.

Mistral restrained his angry expression, looked down at the restaurant, and said in a deep voice,

“The target seems to have detected something in advance…”

“Not very far in advance.” Sharron combined the situation at the scene with the revelations she had obtained from the spirit world and gave her answer.

A strange glimmer appeared in Mistral’s crimson eyes. After observing and analyzing for several seconds, he said,

“The people here left almost at the same time we arrived. They left behind that glass of red wine and that strange doll.

“This trap does not seem to have been prepared in advance. It is closer to a temporary arrangement…”

At this point, Mistral looked toward Sharron.

“How were they able to detect the danger so promptly?”

With a calm expression and unchanged tone, Sharron answered,

“Not because of the Mother Tree of Desire.”

This evil god still could not infuse too much power into reality, so it was difficult for Her to give an early warning.