Chapter 19: Sealed Artifacts

Chapter Nineteen
Sealed Artifacts

“We are guardians, but also a group of poor wretches forever fighting danger and madness.”

The corridor beyond the window was enclosed. The stone walls were cold. Inside the room, lamplight shone bright and yellow. In such surroundings, Dunn Smith’s repeated words lingered in the air, striking Klein’s heart again and again, leaving him momentarily unable to speak.

Seeing Klein fall silent, Dunn shook his head and smiled.

“Disappointed? Beyonders are not quite what you imagined, are they? We walk alongside danger at all times.”

“If there is gain, there must be a price,” Klein replied after settling from his earlier shock and choosing his words with care.

He truly had not expected that beyond the dazzling, extraordinary aspect of Beyonders, the aspect that set them apart from ordinary people, there would also be such hidden dangers. Yet perhaps because he had only heard descriptions and had not personally experienced them, or perhaps because he himself had already been drawn into this whirlpool and might at any moment encounter something bizarre, his fear, unease, worry, and dread soon sank to a controllable level.

Of course, thoughts of retreat still inevitably appeared, tangled and unwilling to leave.

“Not bad. Mature and rational…”

Dunn finished the last mouthful of coffee and added another sentence.

“Also, Beyonders are not as powerful as you might think. Low-sequence Beyonders—heh, why use 1 to represent the highest grade and 9 the lowest? It goes against intuition and logic. When we usually say low sequence, we mean low grade, high number, the starting end of the sequence chain.

“Right. Where was I? Yes. Beyonders are not as powerful as you imagine. The ‘power’ of low-sequence Beyonders cannot match firearms, let alone cannons. It is simply that in certain respects, they are more wondrous than guns and artillery, and harder to guard against. If you ever have the chance to become a Beyonder, you must carefully consider what I have said today. Do not choose rashly.”

Klein gave a self-mocking smile.

“I do not even know when I will have the opportunity.”

If such an opportunity truly appeared, he felt he would not miss it. Consuming the wrong potion or a potion above his level were dangers that could be avoided to the greatest extent. The primary risks lay in the subtle influence carried by the potion itself, and the unknown dangers one might hear or see after one’s inspiration improved.

For the former, there was the experience of generation after generation of predecessors to consult. As long as he did not anxiously or recklessly seek promotion, but instead steadily mastered the power, the probability of losing control should remain comparatively low. Moreover, his aim was mainly to resolve the potential danger before him, understand the essence of mysticism, and find a way to transmigrate back. He was not aiming for some high-sequence “position.” If losing control truly became easy, he could simply avoid advancement, remain at his original sequence, and rely on knowledge to plan his “return home.”

As for the latter danger, that needed even less explanation. Klein remembered vividly the murmurs and whispers that nearly drove him mad and made his head feel ready to explode when he used the luck-changing ritual. That was not something he could avoid merely by refusing to become a Beyonder. Since that was the case, he might as well acquire a little power with which to fight back.

Thinking through this, Klein felt the advantages and disadvantages become so clear that more than half the thoughts of retreat vanished.

Dunn picked up his pipe again. A hint of amusement showed in his gray eyes.

“As for that matter, I cannot give a precise answer. To become a Beyonder, first, you must obtain enough merit. Perhaps tomorrow or the day after, you will interpret some crucial ancient document, or perhaps you will provide very useful opinions for one of our cases. Second, it depends on whether those above have new thoughts. No one can say for certain.”

“Very well. I believe you now have some understanding of Beyonders and will not make impulsive choices in the future. Now I will introduce the civilian work of our Nighthawk team.”

He stood, paced to the door, and pointed in the direction opposite Chanis Gate.

“We have an accountant, and another person responsible for purchasing necessities, receiving materials distributed by the church and the police department, and serving part-time as a coachman. They are both professionals and need not rotate. They rest every Sunday.

“The remaining three civilian staff are Rozanne, Bright, and Old Neil. Their work includes receiving visitors, cleaning rooms, writing case documents and item request lists, and guarding the armory, materials, and archives storage. They strictly record entry, exit, borrowing, and returns. Each has one rotating rest day per week, aside from Sunday. There are also night duty and rest rotations, which they arrange among themselves.”

“I will do the same things as Rozanne and the others?”

Klein put away his thoughts about Beyonders and confirmed the duties of his own “post.”

“No. You do not need to. You are a professional.”

Dunn smiled.

“For now, you have two tasks. First, every morning or afternoon, go out and walk around. Focus especially on the roads between Welch’s residence and your home.”

“Ah?”

Klein looked bewildered.

What sort of “work” was that?

Was it very professional?

Dunn placed both hands in the pockets of his black windbreaker and said, “After confirming that you truly lost your memory, the case of Welch and Naya is considered closed. Likewise, the Antigonus family diary has completely disappeared. We suspect that at the time, you may have left with it and hidden it somewhere on the way home. That is why we found no clues at your house. It may also be the possible reason you did not ‘commit suicide’ at the scene, but at home.

“Although you were affected by the mysterious and have entirely forgotten that portion of memory, the human spirit and brain are wondrous. Perhaps some traces remain. Daly’s methods as a Spirit Medium could not obtain them, but that does not mean they absolutely do not exist. Perhaps in familiar places, at key locations, you will experience a sensation that you have seen something or done something there before.

“That is the gain we are hoping for.”

“I understand.”

Klein was enlightened.

The Nighthawks’ deduction regarding the diary’s whereabouts was indeed reasonable.

Among the people present at the time, only he was still alive. Only he had both the time and the “motive” to take the diary away and hide it along the way.

“If you can find that diary this way, you should obtain enough merit to become a Beyonder,” Dunn Smith encouraged him, indirectly revealing that the diary was fairly important.

“I hope so,” Klein said with a nod.

Dunn returned to the previous topic.

“Second, you may take one rest day each week. For now, you can decide which day yourself. When you are not outside, go to the armory and read the documents and classical texts we have preserved. That is work for a historian. Once you have read through them all, you will begin rotating with Old Neil and the others.”

“All right. No problem.”

Klein secretly breathed out.

It was not anything too difficult.

At that moment, Dunn turned halfway and pointed to the black iron double door carved with seven sacred emblems.

“This is Chanis Gate, named after Archbishop Chanis, the founder of the modern Nighthawk system. Beneath the central cathedral of every major city, there is one.

“It is guarded in rotation by official members of the Nighthawks. Inside there are at least two internal church ‘keepers,’ as well as countless traps. You must never approach it casually, or you will be tainted by misfortune.”

“It sounds formidable,” Klein commented.

“Behind it are several areas. Certain sequence potion formulas and various mystical materials are stored there. Heretics, mutants, cultists, and members of hidden organizations are temporarily imprisoned there as well. Heh. In the end, they will be sent to the Sanctuary,” Dunn introduced casually.

The Sanctuary? The headquarters of the Church of the Evernight Goddess in the Kingdom’s northern Winter County—the Cathedral of Serenity?

Klein nodded slightly, as if in thought.

“In addition, it holds copies of various highly classified documents and ancient texts. Once your clearance rises, perhaps you will have a chance to read them.”

Dunn pondered briefly, then continued.

“On the lowest floor behind Chanis Gate, there are also some Sealed Artifacts.”

“Sealed Artifacts?”

Klein chewed over the words.

It sounded like a proper term.

“Among the extraordinary items we have collected and obtained, some are too important, too wondrous. If they fell into the hands of the wicked, they would cause tremendous destruction. Therefore, they must be kept strictly confidential and strictly guarded. Even we ourselves may only use them under specific circumstances. Moreover…”

Here, Dunn Smith paused before continuing.

“Moreover, some of these things are extremely special. They themselves possess a certain ‘living’ quality. They tempt their keepers. They influence their surroundings. They escape on their own. They cause catastrophic consequences. They must be controlled with absolute rigor.”

“How wondrous,” Klein said with feeling.

“The Nighthawk headquarters divides these Sealed Artifacts into four grades. Grade 0 means extremely dangerous: highest priority, highest confidentiality. Not to be inquired about, not to be spread, not to be described, not to be spied upon. They can only be sealed beneath the Sanctuary.”

Dunn explained in detail.

“Grade 1 means highly dangerous, usable only in limited ways. Its confidentiality level is diocesan bishop and Nighthawk deacon or above. Central cathedrals at diocesan headquarters such as Backlund may keep one or two of them. The rest must be handed to the Sanctuary.

“Grade 2 means dangerous. Use cautiously and sparingly. The confidentiality level is bishop and Nighthawk team captain or above. The central cathedrals of major cities may keep three to five. The others are sent to the nearest Sanctuary or diocesan headquarters. Grade 3 means somewhat dangerous. They must be used carefully, and application for use requires an operation involving at least three people. Their confidentiality level reaches official Nighthawk members.

“In the future, when you see relevant documents, the numbers will tell you what they represent. For example, 2-125 means Dangerous Grade Sealed Artifact Number 125.”

As Dunn spoke, he suddenly turned, walked back into the room, and pulled a sheet of paper from the bottom of a drawer.

“Right. Take a look at this. Three years ago, a newly appointed archbishop lost control. Somehow, he broke through layer after layer of protection and mysteriously vanished with a Grade 0 Sealed Artifact. Memorize his photograph. If you discover him, do not startle him, do not disturb him. Come back and report. Otherwise, you will die in the line of duty one thousand percent.”

“What?”

Klein took the sheet of paper and discovered that it had no heading, only a black-and-white photograph and a few lines of text.

“Ince Zangwill, male, forty years old, former archbishop, failed advancement to Gatekeeper, tempted by devils and fallen into evil. Escaped with Sealed Artifact 0-08. Distinguishing features…”

According to the photograph and description, Ince Zangwill wore a pure black, double-breasted clerical robe and a soft hat. His hair was dark blond, and his pupils were so blue they seemed nearly black. He had a high, straight nose, tightly pressed lips, and features like a classical sculpture, without the slightest wrinkle. His most striking mark was that one eye was blind.

“The description of the fallen man is detailed, but for the Sealed Artifact there is only a code name…” Klein honestly expressed his first impression.

“That is why it has the highest level of confidentiality. Search instructions regarding Sealed Artifact 0-08 are conveyed orally, never in writing, and even then only a little is known.”

Dunn sighed.

“0-08 looks like an ordinary quill pen, but it can write without needing ink. That is all.”

Dunn did not say any more about the matter. Following the gold chain on his black windbreaker, he drew out a splendid pocket watch of the same color, snapped it open, and glanced at it. Then he pointed outside the door.

“I have told you what I should. Go to the armory and find Old Neil. Have him arrange your document reading. He is not an ordinary civilian staff member. He was once an official member, but he grew old and, without obtaining promotion, his health declined. He is no longer suited to handling cases. Yet he is unwilling to become an internal keeper or simply rest at home. He only wishes to keep company with documents and classical texts.”