Chapter 88: Awakening

Chapter Eighty-Eight
Awakening

“Meow!”

The black cat’s cry echoed through the open space enclosed by the secluded forest. Whether it was the adult man in black robes or the fifteen- and sixteen-year-old boys and girls, all their gazes turned at once toward the corpse lying in the center.

A cold, sinister wind swept past. The black cat landed on the ground, glaring fixedly at the human who had just thrown it. Its tail lashed back and forth again and again.

Suddenly, its fur puffed up once more. Then it kicked off hard and leapt away, fleeing quickly in another direction.

Unfortunately, none of this drew the slightest attention. Every human present focused intently on the motionless corpse.

Time passed second by second. That dead body showed no change worth anticipating.

“Did it fail again?”

A boy leaned closer, crouched down, and poked the corpse’s skin with a finger.

“No reaction.”

He half turned and said to the black-robed man and the rest of his companions.

Just then, he felt a gust of wind blow upward from below across his face.

With a sudden whoosh, the corpse sat up!

The boy was startled. Then, delighted, he cheered, “It worked! It worked—”

Before his words faded, the corpse suddenly grabbed his shoulders, pressed him into its embrace, opened its mouth, and bit down. A wet pff sounded as blood began pouring.

“Ah! Help!”

The boy screamed in terror and pulled backward with all his strength, but he could not break free.

The corpse lifted its head, revealing white teeth, bits of flesh caught between them, and blood flowing from its mouth.

The black-robed man froze briefly. Then he took out a brass-colored whistle, placed it between his lips, and blew.

Next, he spoke in Hermes.

“In the name of Death, I command you!”

As his voice echoed, the corpse stopped chewing and briefly went rigid on the spot.

The boy whose neck and shoulder had been bitten into a bloody mess slumped there as well, seeming to have lost his soul. The dirt beneath his lower body became damp.

“It really works…”

The black-robed man whispered in surprise. Pointing at the corpse, he again spoke in Hermes.

“Rise!”

The corpse abruptly stood up, swung its arms wide, and ran with thudding steps toward the depths of the secluded forest.

“Come back!”

The black-robed man cried out in surprise, but he saw no sign of the corpse stopping.

He hurriedly blew the whistle again and shouted with deep authority, “In the name of Death, I command you to return!”

Along with his words, the corpse’s back disappeared among the trees.

“I told you to come back…”

The black-robed man stood there in a daze, muttering foolishly to himself.

Inside the forest, Klein held Azik’s copper whistle and a matchbox in one hand, while with the other he repeatedly lit matches, flicked his wrist to extinguish them, and threw them onto the ground.

Throughout the process, he retreated backward in an arc.

Thud, thud, thud!

The corpse, its face blue-white and a foul stench spilling from it, rushed over. Its lifeless eyes stared straight at the ancient and exquisite copper whistle.

As Klein retreated, he puffed his cheeks, aimed at the corpse, and imitated a sound.

“Bang!”

The corpse abruptly swayed. A piercing wound appeared in its chest.

“Bang!”

Klein puffed his cheeks and exhaled again, firing another Air Bullet.

Pff! A small half of the corpse’s head shattered, and rotten liquid dripped downward from inside.

But to it, this was not a fatal wound. Its thudding run only paused briefly before beginning again.

Seeing this, Klein took one step back and snapped his fingers.

Pa!

A bright flame surged up from the ground, perfectly enveloping the corpse and igniting its outer clothes.

Thud, thud, thud!

The corpse charged through the flames and continued forward like a crazed bull.

Pa! Pa! Pa!

Klein snapped his fingers again and again, making one red flame after another rise from the ground.

Without the sensation of pain, the corpse charged through the flames. Its body gradually began burning, and the blaze grew fiercer and fiercer, giving the eerie impression of a candle melting away.

At last, the corpse, now turned into a torch, rushed before Klein and clawed at him.

At the same time, another flame rose, wrapping both it and Klein together.

The corpse grabbed Klein’s shoulder, but only crushed scattering sparks.

Klein’s figure dissolved into the crimson firelight and appeared inside the farthest pile of flames.

The corpse seemed finally to have used up all its strength. It struggled no longer. Within the flames now tinted faintly with a shadowy green, it swiftly dissolved, becoming ash, oil, and wax.

“He was stronger than every living corpse and resentful spirit I have encountered before. Mm, but not as strong as Mr. Azik’s descendant… If not for me, all of them would have died here tonight.”

Klein shook his head, crossed through the forest, and walked toward the open ground.

By then, the black-robed man had already noticed the changes within the woods and fled without hesitation. As for the seven or eight young men and women, they had first scattered in panic, but as they ran, they discovered that only they themselves remained nearby. Frightened, they stopped and returned to the original spot, clustering together.

Having just experienced a corpse being awakened and biting flesh, they truly did not dare run alone through the deep night.

It made them feel chills blowing against the backs of their necks.

They looked at one another, and none dared to help the boy whose neck and shoulder had been bitten into bloody pulp, afraid that he might turn into a living corpse at any moment.

During that brief silence that made their hearts pound like drums, they stared in astonishment at a clown emerging from the forest—wearing exaggerated clothes and greasepaint in red, yellow, and white.

This was an illusion Klein had directly created.

He swept his gaze around, did not chase the black-robed man, and asked hoarsely, “Who hosted the ritual just now?”

Who?

The boys and girls seemed not yet to have returned to themselves. After several seconds, they finally pushed out a large boy shivering all over to answer.

“He—he is our ancient Feysac teacher, Kapusti Reid…”

“He claimed to have a deep understanding of death and said he would lead us to search for the secret of immortality.”

So it was a teacher at their school… The secret of immortality? Boasting really costs nothing…

Judging from his earlier performance, that fellow is not a Spirit Medium. At most, he is a Gravedigger. He might even be only Sequence 9, a Corpse Collector… Of course, he may not belong to the Death pathway at all, and merely joined the Numinous Episcopate out of worship…

After asking clearly where Kapusti lived, Klein thought for a moment and said, “Go home. Do not participate in this sort of thing again. Do not let word spread.

“Otherwise, every one of you will die.”

Then he emphasized it again.

“Every one of you will die.”

The young men and women, whose courage had already been shattered by what just happened, nodded madly and leaned on one another as they prepared to leave.

At that moment, a girl with smooth hair falling over her shoulders pointed at the groaning companion on the ground and asked, “He—will he be all right?”

“He will not die for now, but he must be taken to a doctor. Say he was bitten by a hyena that often eats carrion.”

Klein no longer paid attention to them and turned back toward the forest.

The boys and girls looked at one another. One of them blurted out, “May—may we ask how we should address you?”

Klein smiled and deliberately misled them, answering in a low voice, “I am merely one of hell’s gatekeepers.”

As he spoke, mist abruptly spread outward, and his figure vanished from the spot.

Of course, all of it was an illusion.

“Hell’s gatekeeper?”

The boys and girls repeated those words softly, each harboring their own thoughts.

But once a cold wind that seemed to seep into their bones blew past, they shivered again, supported their injured companion, and left the place without daring to look back.

…

So that is a member of the Numinous Episcopate? Truly disappointing… If he does not abandon his current identity, I can visit him one midnight when I have time and see what he knows. Mm. I must teach him a lesson so he does not keep harming students. Are spirit dances and resurrection rituals things one can casually play with?

Klein habitually judged the matter with a Nighthawk’s way of thinking.

Very soon, he returned outside Logo Caroman’s mansion and patiently waited for the security personnel to move.

The moment he found an opportunity, he climbed over the fence, followed the shadows swiftly toward the house, and silently climbed up to the balcony.

At that moment, the fake person disguised as him was still smoking.

Pa! Klein lightly snapped his fingers.

The figure before him instantly turned into a thin sheet of paper and floated into his palm.

Compared with before, the paper was now covered in rusty-red traces. It could no longer be used.

Klein did not dare toss it away casually. He folded it, put it away, and stuffed it into his pocket.

After finishing all of that, he leisurely stepped into the corridor and returned to Adol’s bedroom.

“Why were you gone so long?”

Stuart asked, his voice trembling faintly.

Earlier, he had gone to the door to check and discovered that Sherlock Moriarty had smoked cigarette after cigarette. But because duty bound him, he did not dare leave the bedroom.

Klein smiled.

“I took a break and relaxed a little. You can go too. I do not mind.”

“I…”

Stuart had been about to agree when he suddenly thought that if he did, he would be alone on the balcony. Around him would be deep night, dim light, sinister cold wind, and an environment always capable of making one think of ghost stories.

So he forced a smile.

“It is all right. I do not need to.”

Klein smiled without speaking and sat down again, letting the rocking chair sway slowly and gently within the night.

It rocked like this until dawn, and nothing more happened.

Adol woke, sitting blankly on the bed, lost in thought.

Klein said nothing. He traded places with Kaslana and her female assistant, then walked slowly to the guest room to catch up on sleep.

As he slept in a haze, he heard Logo Caroman’s voice ring out, high with surprise and delight.

“Oh, my child, you are well?”

“Storms above, I will donate three hundred pounds to the Church!”

“You—you say they will not come to kill you? That you misunderstood?”

Three hundred pounds? How extravagant…

Klein rolled over, hugged the soft, warm blanket, and muttered once.

Then he continued sleeping soundly.

At noon, Klein went downstairs for lunch. Kaslana sat opposite him and, frowning slightly, asked, “Did anything happen last night?”

“No,” Klein answered simply. Then he smiled. “Does Adol waking up and going to the washroom count?”

Beside him, Stuart slowed his movements and nodded in agreement.

Kaslana’s gaze swept across their faces, then withdrew. In a deep voice, she answered, “It does not count.”

The corners of Klein’s lips curved faintly, and he skillfully began cutting into his steak.