Chapter 134: More Than a Minute Has Passed

Chapter One Hundred Thirty-Four
More Than a Minute Has Passed

Captain, that is exactly the question I hoped you would ask!

Klein nodded seriously.

“I feel better. I even think I could pass the Sanctuary’s examination right now. It is a kind of experience and confidence that cannot really be described in words.”

Thinking that his previous answer might have been a little vague, he could not help adding, “Perhaps the name of the potion truly is the key. When I strictly act as a diviner according to the ‘Seer’s code’ I summarized, everything becomes wonderful and easy. Mm, I can now activate spirit vision through a more concealed method.”

Dunn’s brows creased faintly. His gaze seemed to draw inward, as if he were muttering to himself in thought.

“The name of the potion…”

After more than ten seconds, he looked back toward Klein and said, “Do you need to go home and tell your family? Sunday is the second day after your Chanis Gate duty. You should have had rest today.”

Considering that Elizabeth was his sister’s friend, and that he himself had promised to resolve the problem within a week, Klein answered without difficulty, “There is no need to waste time that way. After we set out, we can have the carriage make a detour past Daffodil Street.”

“Very well. Go find Frye. I will fill out the application form and retrieve Sealed Artifact 3-0782.”

Dunn pointed toward the lounge diagonally opposite.

Frye was a Corpse Collector and did not possess the abundant energy of a Sleepless. When he had free time, he often took a short nap.

Filling out the application form himself, signing it himself, and retrieving it himself… Captain, there is a loophole in our management system…

Klein grumbled inwardly but said nothing. He picked up his hat, left Dunn’s office, and knocked on the opposite door.

After three rounds of knock, knock, knock, Frye opened the door and looked at Klein, unable to hide his confusion.

“Is something the matter?”

Because he had just been napping, his hair was somewhat disordered and his shirt was not quite neat. His cold, gloomy temperament was abruptly diluted by quite a bit.

And yet, and yet, he still looks like a dead man who just crawled out of a coffin…

Klein hid his smile and answered with utmost seriousness, “There is a case involving a wraith. The Captain hopes to have your help.”

“All right.”

Frye instinctively raised a hand and smoothed his disheveled hair, instantly turning once more into that frigid figure others dared not approach.

After he had dressed properly, the two of them sat in the reception-area sofas for barely seven or eight minutes before they felt the surroundings grow warm and pure, as though they were receiving the sacred radiance of the sun.

Immediately afterward, they saw Dunn Smith walk out from beyond the partition, holding an ancient-looking badge about half the size of a palm.

The badge was dark gold. Upon it had been carved the symbol of the sun, line after line extending outward toward its edge. This was Sealed Artifact 3-0782 from the Intis Republic, originally called the Mutated Sun Sacred Emblem.

Intis was the country that Roselle had tossed from an empire into a republic, then from a republic back into an empire. Now, it had established a stable republican system. It stood on the western coast of the Northern Continent, divided from the Loen Kingdom by landmarks such as the Sea of Intervals and the Hornacis mountain range.

Because the Church of the Eternal Blazing Sun had held the mainstream position from the founding of Intis onward, suppressing the Church of the God of Craftsmanship until the latter renamed itself the Church of the God of Steam and Machinery, the country was also known as the Land of the Sun.

“Let us set out. Frye, you will drive. Cesare cannot endure the Sacred Emblem’s purification for that long,” Dunn instructed steadily.

Cesare Francis was the civilian staff member responsible for purchasing and requisitioning supplies. He also served part-time as a carriage driver. But he was an ordinary person and could not remain within fifteen meters of Sealed Artifact 3-0782 for longer than one hour. From Zouteland Street to Lamud Town, as far as Klein knew, the trip would take at least two and a half hours. That did not include the detour to Daffodil Street.

“All right.”

Frye did not decline. He simply checked again to see whether he had missed any personal items.

…

When the sun’s afterglow dyed the spire of the town church gold, the Nighthawk team’s carriage, after making its detour around Daffodil Street, finally arrived in Lamud.

This town stood northwest of Tingen. Many buildings still retained pre-steam-era traits. Almost no factories existed here. It served as the trade hub for all nearby villages.

After parking the carriage in the corresponding space at the town inn, Dunn glanced at the barber shop opposite and said, “I asked the local residents just now. From here, it takes only fifteen minutes on foot to reach the abandoned castle on the mountain. It is said to have belonged to the lord who ruled this place at the end of the Fourth Epoch. Later, something unknown happened and it became what it is now. Of course, those descriptions can only be classified as folk tales.

“Mm. We will go now, resolve that wraith before dark, then take turns guarding 3-0782, keeping it away from ordinary people.”

A full three hours had passed since Dunn obtained the Mutated Sun Sacred Emblem. The limit for Beyonders was drawing closer. Before long, they would have to separate and leave one another time to recover.

“Understood,” Frye answered briefly.

“No problem.”

Klein quietly touched the Slumber Charm and Requiem Charm in his pocket.

The three Nighthawks, all wearing thin black windbreakers and black silk hats or felt hats, crossed the town streets and followed a forked road toward the nearby hill. Along the way, weeds grew wild and shrubs clustered thickly, but the road itself was fairly broad, nearly wide enough for two carriages to pass side by side.

Before long, they saw an old castle whose outer wall had collapsed. Green plants climbed over the surviving exterior walls, while exposed stone was mottled in many places.

Before they were even close, Klein felt a biting chill. Gooseflesh rose abruptly over his arms.

“There is indeed a wraith,” Frye said while looking at the castle, his tone without any fluctuation.

Dunn turned his head and glanced at a certain newly initiated Nighthawk. Smiling, he said, “Relax. With 3-0782 and Frye here, a wraith will not cause too much trouble.”

He held his specially made revolver in one hand and the Mutated Sun Sacred Emblem in the other, then took the lead, walking toward the ruined castle.

Klein followed closely behind, ready at any moment to pull the trigger, throw his cane, or use a charm.

Whooo! Whooo! Whooo!

When Dunn was less than five meters from the castle, and when things like the broken stable and the well came into Klein’s sight, a wind so cold it could be called shrill blew out from within, as if rejecting the arrival of uninvited guests.

The three Nighthawks did not stop. They continued forward. Warm, pure sensation gradually drove away the chill and occupied the castle’s front.

They stepped over piled stones and passed through the collapsed outer wall, slowly entering the castle whose main door had long vanished. Their feet landed on broken floor tiles.

Collapsed stone pillars and moss spread across a rather broad castle hall. Yet the windows were narrow and set high in the walls, making lighting a difficult matter and leaving the place dim and gloomy.

This is also a trait of ancient buildings from the end of the Fourth Epoch and the beginning of the Fifth…

Klein, acting like a fake historian, instinctively made that judgment and quietly activated spirit vision.

Just then, an illusory yet piercing roar erupted. Dense black fog suddenly spread from nowhere, resisting the erosion of warmth and purity.

A tall figure soon emerged inside that black fog. He wore black full-body armor and carried a greatsword ordinary people could scarcely swing.

This wraith was exactly the same as the one Klein had seen in Elizabeth’s dream. Two flame-like red lights penetrated the slits of the visor, staring coldly yet angrily at the three Nighthawks.

“You have disturbed my slumber! You must repay this with blood and flesh!”

He suddenly stepped forward, closing in on Dunn at once. The greatsword in his hand chopped downward with tremendous weight.

Dunn had already retreated nimbly. He raised his hand and fired a shot.

Clang!

The silver Demon-hunting Bullet actually failed to penetrate the illusory black armor. It struck the surface and gave off a crisp but unreal sound.

Klein and Frye stepped aside at the same time. One held his gun in one hand and aimed at the two fiery points of light where the black-armored knight’s eyes should be, then squeezed the trigger. The other’s eyes turned deep, tranquil gray-white as he studied the wraith intently.

The black-armored knight roared again, took great strides after Dunn, and swept out with his greatsword.

Bang!

The greatsword failed to cut Dunn, but it still sent him flying. He slammed heavily beside the doorway and spat blood.

With a clang, 3-0782 fell to the ground. The wraith, wearing iron boots, could hardly wait. His right foot kicked out, sending this dangerous emblem that continuously purified everything around it flying out through the castle gate, beyond the fifteen-meter range.

Klein, whose earlier shot had failed to hit, saw this scene and felt both worried and tense. Yet he also felt strangely detached, as though he were examining the changes before him from a higher, calm, rational perspective.

Bang!

He fired again. The silver Demon-hunting Bullet struck the wraith’s visor with a metallic clang, throwing up sparks, but failed to cause any obvious damage.

“The right-hand glove!”

Just then, Frye, usually icy and gloomy, shouted. His tone was filled with urgency.

Before his voice had even faded, Frye himself raised his revolver and aimed at the iron glove on the wraith’s right hand.

Bang! Bang! Almost instinctively obeying Frye’s words, Klein pulled the trigger, firing a silver Demon-hunting Bullet at the same time.

This time, the wraith did not use his armor to take the hit. Instead, as though already prepared, he raised his greatsword and easily deflected the two bullets away.

Clang! With one step, he charged at Klein with the speed of a sprint and slammed directly into him.

Klein flew backward. He saw his own chest cave in and saw himself vomiting blood, yet he felt no pain at all.

He abruptly understood, fell to the ground, rolled, and screamed.

Suddenly, the castle, the wraith, the collapsed pillars, and the moss covering the ground shattered strangely. Everything returned to the moment when black fog filled the hall and the black-armored knight had just appeared.

The only difference was that Dunn’s fists were clenched, his body half-bowed, and his gray eyes had become dark and deep.

As expected. Everything earlier was a dream. The Captain pulled the wraith, me, and Frye into his dream at the same time. But because I am special, I can remain awake and rational…

Klein discovered that he still stood two meters to Dunn’s right. He had not vomited blood, nor had he screamed.

At that moment, Dunn straightened, looked at the wraith that was about to strike, and spoke calmly.

“More than a minute has passed.”

The wraith froze. Immediately afterward, he let out a shrill scream. Black fog began steaming endlessly from his body, as though he had received a death sentence.

Corpses and ghosts below the level of an evil spirit could not exist for more than a minute within fifteen meters of the Mutated Sun Sacred Emblem.

Damn, Captain, you are so cool!

Klein, watching from the side, nearly blurted out a shout of “666.”

Dunn had not used his dream ability to kill the wraith through home-field advantage. He had only used it to delay time.

Within the warm, pure sensation, the black fog evaporated rapidly, and the chill gradually disappeared. Before long, the wraith knight wearing full armor and dragging a massive greatsword turned completely transparent and merged into empty air.

Clang!

A black iron glove fell to the ground, its surface covered in a bit of white frost.

Klein was just about to ask the Captain whether they should pick up the “drop,” but as his gaze swept past, his spiritual intuition was abruptly stirred.

The step separating the castle hall from the dining room seemed to hold a powerful yet illusory pain and filth, calling to him.