Chapter 44: A Lion Uses Full Strength Even Against a Rabbit

Chapter 44: A Lion Uses Full Strength Even Against a Rabbit

Finally, Dorian stopped beside the letter.

He bent his back and extended his right hand. His fingers trembled slightly as he pinched the edge of the paper and picked it up.

This time, Dorian read very carefully, word by word, from the beginning. At times, he seemed enlightened. At times, he was lost. At times, doubtful. At times, pained.

The letter Forsi had sent was not long. It took him only three minutes to read it twice in full, after which he sank into a long silence.

Sunlight entered through the window, spilling over the overturned table.

Dorian Gray Abraham’s lips suddenly moved, but in the end, no sound came out.

Through the paper, he quickly rubbed it between his right thumb and index finger, causing the letter to ignite with crimson flames.

After doing all this, Dorian packed his belongings, put on a disguise, and left the house he had rented. Using an identity he had prepared earlier, he went elsewhere.

Once he settled down, he sat beside the desk and stared at a brass ornament, no one knowing what he was thinking.

As the sunlight became increasingly scarce and increasingly dim, Dorian’s eyelids stirred. He gave a long, slow sigh.

Then he spread out letter paper, picked up a fountain pen, and wrote while thinking:

“…I am very pleased to see that you digested the Scribe potion within a few months. This means you truly have the possibility of becoming a demigod…

“…These are the acting principles of a Traveler as I understand them, but you must remember that everyone’s personality differs. In practice, acting will always vary somewhat, and cannot be copied completely… This does not mean other people’s acting principles are wrong. Rather, they may cause enormous conflict within your heart and affect your mental state… Sometimes, appropriate adjustments may slow the speed of potion digestion, but they will be more beneficial to you. You must remember: acting is merely a tool, not a ruler…

“I look forward to the day you completely digest the Traveler potion. I will prepare the corresponding materials and a gift for you.

“…As for the matter of the Abraham family’s curse mentioned by that gentleman, I am very interested… I believe you should have noticed long ago that I have conducted certain research in this area. Otherwise, you would not always be asking me related questions…

“I hope you can understand it further…”

After finishing the reply, Dorian Gray Abraham closed his eyes briefly and quickly folded the paper.

…

January 1351. Backlund’s New Year was much quieter than in the past.

Inside the basement of a house in West Borough, several candles swayed with yellowish flames, illuminating the altar, chairs, and round table arranged around them.

At the edge of the light, in a place extremely dark and sunken, a human figure seemed to exist and not exist. Sometimes it swayed, sometimes it stretched. It was thin and without depth, like a shadow that had come alive.

Suddenly, this figure spoke in a low voice:

“You arrived earlier than I expected.”

Beside the candles, where the firelight was brightest, a figure swiftly outlined itself.

This was a man wearing a mysterious-looking black robe. His brown hair was slightly curled, each strand stiff. His eyes were deep, as though hiding countless things.

He was one of the Aurora Order’s five great saints: the Saint of Secrets, Botis.

Botis smiled.

“For me, distance is not a problem.”

He then pulled out a chair, sat down, and said to that long, narrow shadow, “Have you investigated everything clearly? Did you find anything abnormal?”

The shadow, almost merged with darkness, answered in a low voice, “There is no problem.”

“Truly?” Botis instinctively doubted such a definite answer. “Kesma, could this be a trap?”

Kesma, the Aurora Order’s Dark Saint, slowly shook his head.

“The target is extremely cautious. She absolutely did not expose herself deliberately.

“If she had not been seeking to purchase a cursed item from an ancient wraith, we would have had no way of discovering that she might have a connection to the Abraham family.”

The Saint of Secrets Botis spoke as though thinking aloud:

“A cursed item from an ancient wraith. That is one of the main ingredients of the Scribe potion. I remember the Abraham family does indeed have extra Asman Brains… Heh. They are unwilling to directly provide a Scribe Beyonder characteristic and hope to conduct some kind of test. That is indeed the Abraham family’s style. Put simply, they do not trust enough.”

The Dark Saint Kesma did not echo Botis’s words. He continued on his own, “Even when she sought to buy the main ingredient of the Scribe potion, we originally did not find it problematic. After all, not every believer understands the corresponding mysticism knowledge. But she has also been asking certain questions related to Apprentices and to the Abraham family.

“She has truly been cautious in this regard. The Beyonder circles where she purchases materials are not the circles where she asks questions. Different matters are handled in different circles. Sometimes, she even hires other gathering participants in advance to raise her requests for her.

“If we had not had people in several of those circles and had not eventually summarized the information, we would never have noticed her.”

The Saint of Secrets Botis nodded slightly and asked instead, “Why not act directly? Why call me over?”

Within the shadow, darkness stirred as the low voice answered, “The situation in Backlund is becoming more and more tense. The Nighthawks, Mandated Punishers, and Machinery Hivemind squads are conducting round after round of cleanups. We are being watched very closely.

“If I handled this matter, things would be fine if no accident occurred. But once an accident did happen, I have not grazed a Secrets Sorcerer and might not have time to leave.

“Moreover, aren’t you the one most interested in the Abraham family?”

Botis laughed.

“I have no interest in them at all. I only want them all to die.

“The most important thing in ensuring one’s own safety is to strangle revenge in the cradle. That is my philosophy.”

As he spoke, this Saint of Secrets took a crystal ball from the inner pocket of his black robe.

The crystal ball was neither bright nor translucent. It looked as though deep night had been poured into it.

As Botis stroked it with his palm and moved his lips, points of brilliant radiance rose within the strange crystal ball.

They were like star sand, slowly rotating to form a complicated scene.

“Acceptable…” Botis glanced at the crystal ball he held in his right hand and nodded lightly.

He immediately looked toward the “ghostly shadow.”

“Tell me more specific intelligence.”

After learning that a Beyonder gathering belonging to a certain circle would take place tonight and that the target might appear, the Saint of Secrets Botis stood up and said to the Dark Saint Kesma, “I need to make some preparations in advance.”

No sooner had he spoken than he opened his right hand, lifted it gently, and closed his five fingers.

The region where he stood instantly twisted and vanished.

The candles, firelight, round table, and chair originally in that location also vanished, leaving only the floor tiles and ceiling.

After a while, shadows stirred there, and everything returned.

Compared to before, the Saint of Secrets Botis showed no difference. Yet the Dark Saint Kesma’s figure had unknowingly separated from the darkness.

He looked at Botis and said in a deep voice, “Your caution exceeds what is necessary.”

“But that is not a bad thing. I hope to resolve the problem before anyone else notices,” Botis answered with a smile. “You come as well. Hide in the shadows and support me. Do not appear directly. Once you detect anything abnormal, leave at once.”

“…All right.” The Dark Saint Kesma slowly walked out of the shadows.

He looked very young, and all his facial features were excellent. Yet his face seemed veiled by a faint curtain of darkness.

After he drew close to Botis, Kesma vaguely heard one illusory chewing sound after another by his ears—gnawing, biting, digesting—coming from no known place. He sensed a kind of undisguised malice and hunger.

This made even him, a demigod, unable to stop himself from shivering.

The Dark Saint’s gaze froze for a second. Shock and astonishment were hidden within it as he looked toward Botis’s face.

Botis curled the corners of his lips and revealed a somewhat cruel smile.

A few seconds later, one of them used Teleportation, the other merged into shadows, and they left the house one after another.

…

At the border between Backlund’s East Borough and Bridge area, inside a run-down apartment building, within several connected ground-floor rooms that had once belonged to a cheap hotel.

When Botis walked out of the spirit world, the Beyonder gathering still had two or three hours before it began, and no one had arrived yet.

He looked around, taking in the chairs and messy long tables.

After observing the environment, Botis walked toward a corner. His right hand moved as if tugging a curtain.

That region was immediately enveloped by shadow, then twisted, and finally vanished.

Because there had originally been no objects there, and no objective marker by which to measure it, no one would discover that a piece of space was missing. They would merely feel as though the distance between the wall and themselves had shortened slightly, while careful inspection would reveal nothing wrong.

This was a Secrets Sorcerer’s Spatial Concealment.

Using this ability, they could divide one place into two, hiding part of it away. Only by passing through a specific “Door” could one enter.

At that moment, within the concealed region that had been split away, the room existed normally. There were floor tiles, a ceiling, and a cockroach scurrying in panic.

The cockroach charged all the way to the dividing line, only to be blocked by unfathomably deep darkness.

After looking around, the Saint of Secrets Botis’s gaze stopped on a transparent vortex in midair.

This was the “Door.”

Every concealed space necessarily had a “Door.”

Botis thought for a moment, reached into the inner pocket of his black robe, took out a mirror, and fitted it into the Door’s position.

The mirror twisted slightly, swiftly reflecting the scene outside.

Chairs and long tables were messily arranged. No one was present.

In this way, through that mirror, Botis began monitoring the location of the Beyonder gathering.

Time passed, minute by minute, second by second. Beyonders dressed in various disguises to conceal their identities arrived one after another.

Among them, a hooded figure habitually chose the corner by the window. She took out a palm-sized notebook with a copper-green outer shell and casually flipped through several pages, as though reviewing the important points she intended to ask about later, or checking whether her own preparations were sufficient.

Behind her and to the side, embedded in the wall, was an utterly ordinary mirror.