Chapter 170: The Copper Whistle

Chapter One Hundred Seventy
The Copper Whistle

Klein turned toward the Captain’s office and saw the door standing open. Dunn Smith was leaning back in his chair, quietly sniffing his pipe.

His gray eyes swept over Klein, and Dunn adjusted his sitting posture.

“Your condition is very good. You do not look at all like someone who has just consumed a potion.”

“Perhaps that is the benefit of advancing after completely digesting the previous potion,” Klein said. He casually closed the door behind him, pulled out a chair, and sat down.

He and Dunn both knew about the acting method. Bound by no oath when speaking with each other, they could discuss the relevant issues normally. Yet in this moment, both men tacitly avoided saying too much. After that brief exchange, silence fell upon them at the same time.

After thinking for a moment, Klein asked, “Has His Excellency Cesimir left?”

“Yes. As a high-ranking deacon, he has other matters to attend to.”

Dunn paused for several seconds, then said, “Mm. He took away the pair of red eyes Old Neil left behind.”

Klein was both surprised and bewildered.

“Why?”

Dunn lifted his coffee, took a sip, and remained silent for quite a while before saying, “We cannot deceive ourselves. A teammate who has lost control has, in truth, already become a monster. And I have told you before: when monsters die, they leave behind objects in which extraordinary power has accumulated. If those objects are uncontrollable, or if they have all sorts of problems, then they must be sealed. Mm, that is one of the sources of Sealed Artifacts. The internal rules of the Nighthawks state that items left behind by teammates who lost control must be stored in another location, so that their companions are not stimulated by them.”

“A rule that can be understood,” Klein answered with a rather heavy nod.

Then, suddenly, he keenly realized that the Captain had omitted one possibility. Puzzled, he asked, “What if the object left behind by a ‘monster’ after death is controllable?”

Dunn looked at him. His gray eyes were deep as the quietest night.

With a sigh, he said, “You do not want to know the answer.”

…

Klein froze. Then, abruptly, he understood a certain possibility.

Ordinary monsters left behind extraordinary materials, which were used to mix the corresponding potions.

Then what about monsters formed from Beyonders who had lost control?

If the things they left behind were controllable, would they also be treated as extraordinary materials…?

At that thought, an intense nausea surged within Klein. He could not help turning his head and dry-heaving several times, his vision blurring because of it.

That really is a chilling guess… but it is very likely close to the truth, close to the answer!

In that instant, he gained an even deeper understanding of words like “to resist the abyss, one must bear the abyss’s corrosion” and “We are guardians. But we are also a group of poor wretches forever fighting against danger and madness.”

Could this be one of the reasons the Church hides the acting method? A certain degree of recycling? But that would make the upper ranks themselves deviate from the Church…

Klein clearly sensed the changing expression on his own face.

Seeing his reaction, Dunn suddenly smiled. Within his gray eyes, faint points of light flickered.

“You may think of it from the better side. Our companions continue to accompany us in a different way.

“They are forever with us.”

As soon as he finished speaking, Dunn lowered his head and lifted the coffee to his lips.

Another dozen seconds of silence passed. Leaning slightly back, he raised his head and said, “Besides, you may rest assured. As long as extraordinary materials from normal sources can still be gathered, we will not do the thing you are thinking of.

“All right. According to regulations, as someone newly advanced, you may take one day of rest. Whether you go practice combat this afternoon is your own decision, but you must have someone inform Gawain.”

Klein nodded lightly, inhaled deeply, straightened his back, and said, “Captain, I have already finished my mysticism lessons. I want to use the mornings from now on to study tracking, surveillance, and related techniques.”

He paused, then added with a grave expression, “I want to fulfill a Nighthawk’s responsibilities as soon as possible.”

Dunn looked deeply at him and said with emotion, “You are more resilient than I imagined. Then do as you wish.”

“Yes, Captain!”

Klein abruptly rose and drew a crimson moon over his chest.

…

After leaving Blackthorn Security Company, Klein did not return home directly to rest. Instead, seizing the chance, he took a trackless public carriage to the home of Instructor Azik.

Ding-dang. Ding-dang.

Amid the crisp ringing of the bell, Azik, wearing a white shirt and black waistcoat, opened the door.

A gold watch chain ran diagonally from one button of his waistcoat, connecting to the pocket watch inside.

“You do not need to work?” Azik glanced at the sky and saw that the sun had not yet climbed to its highest point.

“Due to certain special circumstances, I was given rest on rotation,” Klein explained briefly.

Azik looked at him once, as though seeing something, then nodded and stepped aside.

Entering the foyer, Klein set down his cane, removed his hat, and followed Azik into the sitting room.

The sitting room had a fireplace, rocking chairs, sofas, and a coffee table. Klein naturally sat in his usual seat.

Azik, across from him, smiled and pointed at the cigars on the coffee table.

“Would you like one?”

“No.”

Klein shook his head firmly.

Azik did not try to persuade him. He struck a match and began warming a cigar for himself, casually asking, “Was the matter in Morse Town handled?”

“We must thank you for that,” Klein said sincerely.

At the same time, he silently muttered inwardly:

Mr. Azik, before you lost your memories, you must have left yourself quite a fortune. Otherwise, how could a lecturer who is not even an associate professor regularly enjoy cigars?

Taking advantage of the other man’s focus on the cigar, he took the initiative and said, “Mr. Azik, there is something I would like to ask you.”

“What is it?” Azik asked without lifting his head.

Klein paused, organizing his words.

“A colleague of mine lost control and became a monster. I want to know whether his soul would also have been contaminated.”

He did not know whether Mr. Azik understood what “loss of control” meant, so he had already prepared the corresponding explanation and description, waiting only for the other man to ask.

Azik stopped what he was doing, lifted his head, and looked at Klein. With grave certainty, he nodded.

“There is no doubt about that.

“When you encounter similar situations, you must carefully distinguish the cause. If the direct factor behind his loss of control was the temptation of an evil god or demon, then avoid spirit channeling as much as possible. It may bring you fatal danger.”

“I understand.”

Klein breathed out somewhat dejectedly.

Back in Old Neil’s house, his emotions had not been steady enough, and he had forgotten about spirit channeling. Dunn Smith had not reminded him either, causing him to miss the opportunity completely.

Thinking back now, the Captain had not forgotten. He had deliberately not mentioned it…

Klein silently thought for several seconds, then stopped dwelling on that matter and instead brought up his earlier experience.

“Mr. Azik, in Morse Town, I attempted to divine the source of the haunting incident. I saw an inverted pyramid mausoleum extending underground. My companion told me that this is the symbol of Death, and an honor that only His descendants could obtain.”

Azik had just set down the match and lifted the cigar cutter when he suddenly froze there. For a long time, he made no movement.

Then he sat back, leaning against the sofa, his expression unusually沉重 and deep.

After a while, he spoke in a low voice.

“It gives me a familiar feeling, but it has not caused me to remember more.”

“What a pity,” Klein said with genuine regret.

He had thought the revelation gained from that divination might further awaken Mr. Azik’s memories.

Azik cut open the cigar cap and shook his head with a bitter smile.

“If recalling the past were so easy, I would have long since found a way to escape my fate.

“Of course, I must thank you for your kindness, and thank you for always remembering my matter.”

After considering for a moment, he added, “Right. I will be leaving Tingen soon.”

“Why?”

Klein asked back in astonishment.

Did we not agree to work together to find the mastermind who influenced my fate and stole your child’s skull?

Holding the cigar, Azik sighed and explained, “The target may have noticed my attention and pursuit. During this period, he has made no movement at all, leaving me without any clues. Therefore, I intend to temporarily leave Tingen and go to Backlund. On one hand, I can take the opportunity to search for traces I left behind before losing my memories. On the other, I can let the target relax his guard.”

That makes sense. Mr. Azik’s most recent memory loss happened near Backlund University… What a pity, though. You have no way to replace me in searching the red-chimney houses…

Klein nodded solemnly.

“I will pay close attention to this matter. The moment the target acts or exposes himself, I will notify you immediately.

“Mm, Mr. Azik, how should I contact you in time?”

In Klein’s thinking, if Azik was a descendant of Death, or had some connection to Death, then his type of power should be close to the Corpse Collector Sequence. He was certain to have some way to produce something similar to Daly’s messenger.

In other words, this could indirectly prove whether Azik was related to Death, and whether he belonged to Death’s descendants.

Azik took a draw from the cigar and thought for a dozen seconds. Then, from the inside of his left cuff, he untied an ornament.

It was an exquisite, ancient copper whistle, covered in strange patterns that filled it with a mysterious charm.

“This is something I carried with me when I awoke in Backlund. You only need to blow it, and you will summon a messenger belonging solely to me,” Azik said, holding the copper whistle and explaining in detail.

After so many years, this copper whistle can still be used? Does that make it a mystical item?

Klein was both astonished by the matter and delighted that he had indirectly confirmed Mr. Azik’s connection to Death.

Seeing Klein’s expression, Azik brought the copper whistle to his lips and demonstrated.

He puffed out both cheeks fiercely and blew hard.

No sound appeared inside the room, but Klein instantly felt a chill, cold and陰森.

He quickly tapped the teeth on the left side of his mouth and saw one hazy white bone after another being thrown up from the floor nearby, forming a strange fountain.

A few seconds later, an illusory monster stood inside the sitting room.

Its whole body was made of white bones. Black flames flickered inside its eye sockets. It was nearly four meters tall, and was currently lowering its head to look down at Klein, who stood at less than 1.75 meters.

Seeing that the creature nearly pierced the ceiling, a thought flashed blankly through Klein’s mind.

Mr. Azik, is your “messenger” not a little too exaggerated?

Azik did not notice his thoughts at all. Smiling, he said, “After giving it the letter, blow the copper whistle again. That will end the summoning, and it will soon deliver the letter to me through a concealed method.”

After saying that, Azik flicked his wrist and tossed the ancient copper whistle toward the opposite side.

Klein reached out with his right hand and caught it accurately, feeling its touch as cold yet gentle.

Thank you, Clown potion…

He silently sighed in relief, wiped the mouth of the whistle clean, and blew hard.

Soundlessly, the giant messenger collapsed into hazy white bones, one after another drilling back into the floor.

…

The Tussock River ran through Backlund, leaving many docks along its banks.

Alger Wilson, dressed in the priestly robe of the Church of Storms, slowly descended from the passenger ship.

He saw people coming and going across the docks, countless porters scattering sweat, the scene lively and noisy.

“Long time no see, Backlund,” Alger silently murmured.