Chapter 167: Sacred Relic

Chapter One Hundred Sixty-Seven
Sacred Relic

“Very well.”

Crestet Cesimir nodded and leaned forward slightly.

“Then swear upon the sacred relic.”

As he spoke, he bent and lifted the silver-white suitcase by his feet.

Sacred relic? The one that earned him the title Sword of the Goddess?

Klein looked with considerable curiosity at every movement the high-ranking deacon before him made.

Crestet set the suitcase upon his knees. His dark-green eyes turned deep black in an instant.

He lifted his right hand and pressed it downward. Something on the surface of the violin-case-like silver-white suitcase immediately shattered and dissolved, withdrawing like a tide.

Almost in the same second, Klein felt all the surrounding radiance drawn away—drawn into that suitcase.

Thus, he saw the alchemy room plunged into darkness. Aside from the elegant gas lamp behind its metal lattice and the silver-white suitcase with flowing light upon it, the scene became exceptionally strange.

Snap!

Amid a crisp sound, Crestet Cesimir, one of the nine high-ranking deacons and a core figure among the Nighthawks, opened the suitcase, revealing the pure white bone sword placed inside.

Yes—a bone sword. The moment Klein saw that short sword, less than a meter long, his intuition told him its main material was bone.

Inside the alchemy room where gas lamps burned silently yet gave off no light, the short sword radiated a pure white, lustrous glow. It was like the moon hanging high in the depths of night, soothing the heart, like a lighthouse marking the way through a storm.

Its surface seemed pure and flawless, but with careful observation, one could see layers upon layers of symbols and signs densely packed in its depths. Those mysterious patterns had become an indivisible whole with the sword itself.

Klein studied the sacred sword. Suddenly, he discovered that he could not move his eyes away.

His gaze had been drawn into it. His brown eyes slowly lost their luster.

At that moment, Crestet lifted the suitcase slightly, moving the pure white short sword away from its original position.

Klein jolted awake, finally breaking free from a nightmare in which he had watched wide-eyed yet had been unable to avoid anything.

He shifted his gaze to the side and asked solemnly, “Your Excellency, do you need me to place my hand on this sacred sword?”

“Yes. Come over,” Crestet said, his voice like the recitation of a bedtime story, like the humming of a lullaby.

Klein stood, eyes angled away, and moved over one small step at a time. Because it was too dark, he could not even see the high-ranking deacon’s legs or the slightly old leather boots on the man’s feet.

“Stop,” Crestet said calmly.

Klein halted where he stood. With the corner of his eye, he quickly glanced at the pure white bone sword, then fearfully looked away again.

Following the memory of that single brief second, he bent his back, extended his right hand, and accurately pressed it upon the sacred sword.

A cold yet not piercing sensation passed through his skin and into his mind, calming all distracting thoughts and worries in an instant. It was like arriving at a quiet village after noise and clamor, sitting on a rooftop, smelling the scent of harvest, and silently gazing up at the night and the stars.

“Recite after me,” Crestet said in a deep voice.

“All right.”

Klein nodded.

Then he heard the high-ranking deacon before him switch to Hermes.

“Evernight Goddess, nobler than the starry sky and more eternal than eternity;

“I swear to You by my true name and my spirituality.

“I, Klein, from this moment onward, shall never reveal the corresponding details to anyone who does not know of the acting method.

“Should I violate this oath, I accept Your punishment.

“Please bear witness to my oath.”

Klein gathered his thoughts and, following High-Ranking Deacon Cesimir, solemnly recited the oath once in Hermes.

Faintly, indistinctly, he felt that between himself, the pure white bone sword, and some existence infinitely far away, a subtle, hidden connection had been established.

Withdrawing his right hand, he drew a crimson moon on his chest.

“Praise the Goddess!”

“Praise the Goddess!”

Crestet smiled and made the same gesture.

Then, with a snap, he closed the lid and pressed his right hand heavily and slowly down upon it.

The darkness was lit up in an instant. The gas lamp light once again filled the room.

Klein saw High-Ranking Deacon Cesimir’s eyes, which had been dyed deep black, recover their dark-green color at the same moment.

He stepped backward and sat in his high-backed chair. Frowning slightly, he asked in puzzlement, “The acting method?”

Crestet cleared his throat. Instead of directly answering the question, he smiled and said, “What I am about to tell you may confuse you. You may find it difficult to understand. But I will not explain why, because this involves the Church’s secrets.”

When I become an archbishop or high-ranking deacon, I will be qualified to know…

Klein looked at Cesimir opposite him, whose high collar hid his chin, and silently answered first in his heart.

“Only when you become an archbishop or high-ranking deacon—only when you become part of the Church’s core—will you be permitted to know,” Crestet emphasized.

Klein hurriedly nodded with solemn seriousness.

Crestet set the silver-white suitcase back beside his feet, crossed his right leg again, and said, “Across a long history, generation after generation of talented Beyonders in the Church gradually explored methods for avoiding loss of control to the greatest extent.

“And the core of this method lies in the potion’s name. It is not only the key—it is also the lockpick.”

Seeing Klein’s seemingly thoughtful expression, Crestet continued, “We discovered that potion names all point to certain types of groups, while the corresponding groups each possess similar, unique patterns of behavior. Put simply, a potion’s name contains certain specific rules. Different potion names contain different rules. When we strictly follow the rules contained within our own potion, the risk of losing control falls to the lowest possible level.”

“Similar to my Seer’s code?” Klein seized the opportunity and asked.

This is not even as easy to understand as the explanation I gave to Justice and the Hanged Man…

At the same time, he silently criticized.

“Yes.”

Crestet gave a confirming answer.

“When we follow the corresponding behavioral rules, we seem to become the type of group described by the potion’s name. In other words, we are ‘acting’ as the profession pointed to by the potion’s name. Mm, this is the acting method. You must remember: everyone’s spirituality is special and unique. Compared to someone who has consumed the same potion, the core of the behavioral rules you need to follow will not change, but the corresponding boundaries each have their own traits. They will not be identical. Therefore, the experiences of others can only serve as reference.”

That is indeed an important point I did not know and had not discovered…

Klein spoke with genuine sincerity.

“Thank you for your reminder. I will remember it.”

Crestet smiled.

“These are all experiences accumulated generation after generation.

“After using the acting method, what we do to the potion is not merely mastery, but digestion—like digesting the food we have eaten. When you truly digest the potion and digest its remaining mental influence, you will obtain a unique, wonderful sensation. Do you understand?”

“I understand. Digestion. That word is very fitting…” Klein said, pretending to be thinking.

After Crestet gave another detailed explanation, Klein considered his words and asked, “Your Excellency Cesimir, since the names of potions are the key—the lockpick—then how did the earliest Beyonders obtain those names? I heard they were recorded on the Blasphemy Slate?”

“Yes. That statement is correct,” Crestet answered frankly. “But what was recorded on it were ancient names. Afterward, the evolution of potion names came partly from divine revelation and partly from the summaries of Beyonders themselves.”

Klein nodded slowly. Pressing his lips together, he asked, “Your Excellency Cesimir, since the acting method is so effective, why does the Church not tell every Nighthawk?”

“I said before: this is one of the Church’s secrets. When you become an archbishop or high-ranking deacon, you will understand the reason.”

Crestet answered solemnly.

“Very well. Return upstairs for now and notify the other Nighthawks. Have them come down one by one. I will carry out the final step of the examination.”

This is to ensure Frye and the others cannot leak the acting method either?

Klein rose thoughtfully, gave his farewell according to the etiquette among Nighthawks, and left.

He passed through the corridor, followed the stairs upward, and returned to Blackthorn Security Company. There, he saw Dunn waiting near the underground entrance, quietly sniffing his pipe. No one knew how long he had been there.

The corner of Klein’s mouth rose. He took the initiative and said, “There should be no problem. His Excellency Cesimir asked me to notify Frye and the others to come down one by one for a talk.”

“Mm. That is the final step. It also means no problems appeared in the earlier parts,” Dunn said, putting away his pipe.

He went to the Nighthawks’ recreation room and repeated the matter.

Watching Frye and Siga walk down into the underground, Klein suddenly remembered something. He hurriedly said, “Captain, should we also switch out Royale, who is on rotation at Chanis Gate, Leonard, who is monitoring the asylum, and Kernli, who is on leave?”

Dunn froze. He pinched the corner of his brow.

“I forgot…”

He paused, then gave a low laugh.

“But the matter will not be too complicated. One benefit of a high-ranking deacon personally conducting the examination is that there is no need to telegraph the Sanctuary or go through complicated paperwork back and forth. He can give the conclusion on the spot and provide you with the Clown potion formula and main ingredients on the spot.”

“That is not bad.”

Klein could not restrain his anticipation for what was about to happen.

…

An hour and a half passed. After Kernli, whose expression was grave but clearly confused, walked out of the alchemy room, Klein was called down into the underground again, once more facing High-Ranking Deacon Crestet Cesimir, Sword of the Goddess.

This time, the dark-green-eyed, golden-brown-haired Excellency was no longer sitting. He stood there, allowing the underground chill to stir his black windbreaker faintly.

Both of Crestet’s collars were raised high, hiding his chin in shadow.

Looking at Klein, he smiled slightly.

“Nighthawk Klein Moretti, in the name of the Goddess, I solemnly inform you that you have passed the Sanctuary’s examination.

“Congratulations. With your merits, you may now obtain advancement and become a Sequence 8 Beyonder.”