Ding-a-ling, ding-a-ling.
In the nighttime mist, more than a dozen black police carriages and hundreds of blue-uniformed police officers cordoned off the Triangle, sealing it airtight.
The small building was already completely empty.
Shortly after that peculiar celestial phenomenon appeared moments ago, all seven workers inside Thorn Flower died simultaneously of unknown causes, swarms of spiders crawling out from every corpse.
The Hall of Suffering, responsible for medical affairs, arrived alongside the police from the Hall of Order. Under the pretext of a suspected Black Death outbreak, they cordoned off the entire street, escorting everyone back for physical examinations and questioning.
Yet not long after the lockdown began, heavily enclosed carriages entered the cordoned area one after another. Representatives from the twelve churches, regional heads of four semi-public secret societies, the local commander of the royal direct agency—the Watchers—the head of the Governor's Mansion's special department—the Rangers—and top figures from various mysterious organizations gathered outside the small building, staring solemnly at the structure.
An exceptionally bright beam of red moonlight still bathed the small building. Though considerably dimmer than before, it remained striking and impossible to ignore.
Within these figures’ occult perception, the brilliant moonlight retained a vast, surging mystery that had not completely faded even after dozens of minutes. What struck them as even more bizarre was that this power had penetrated straight into the subterranean depths and detonated with surgical precision without destroying a single physical obstacle along the way.
“Someone channeled the power of the stars.” The president of the Archaeological Association, an expert of rank eight authority and the strongest individual present, removed his monocle and stroked his long beard in awe. “What terrifying might... It is as if a god descended to earth. Mr. V, did any legendary expert give notice of a visit?”
Despite being a formidable rank five Soul Severer, Mr. V, the regional director of the Watchers, stood with his head bowed like a student among this crowd. Hearing the question, he promptly shook his head. “None at all. President Olei, you believe this is the handiwork of a legendary expert?”
“Not even a rank nine authority could achieve this; it could only be a legendary expert, my boy.”
Harlan, the district bishop of the Church of the Sun and a rank seven Soul Severer, was clad in a priestly robe, his bald head gleaming under the moonlight. Facing the moonbeams, he drew a circle on his forehead with a finger—the Church of the Sun's customary greeting of respect.
“The raw power is secondary; after all, it relies on channeling the power of the stars, which a high-ranking Soul Severer above rank seven could barely manage with the right technique. However, sending that power alongside the moonlight straight down thirty-four meters into an underground cavern without damaging any obstacles along the way, detonating it to strike mythical creatures with pinpoint precision while sparing every single human—such precision and uncanny finesse are unheard of by anyone here. Aside from a legendary expert, there is no other explanation—unless a true god descended. Heh. So my only concern now is what purpose this esteemed figure might have in concealing their identity.”
“There is likely no malice. After all, they casually helped us purge a nest of mythical creatures that had infiltrated the city. Without their intervention, it would have taken considerable effort on our part to clean it up.” Archbishop Trinlais of the Church of the Black Night was one of the few ordinary humans present. Standing beside a rank seven expert from his church, it was nonetheless the ordinary archbishop who spoke. “I heard two Watchers were trapped underground by a swarm of cold spiders when someone suddenly sent down a beam of light, wiping the cold spiders out completely?”
“One was a Watcher; the other was a private detective named Lynch Levive, an external consultant assisting us in investigating the Square Massacre,” Mr. V explained. “They are still undergoing physical examinations inside the carriage. Would you like me to summon them for questioning?”
“There is no need for that.”
The speaker was a middle-aged man donning a pointed wizard's hat and a purple robe—Gulman, president of the Rhine branch of the Arcane Research Society and an expert of rank seven authority. Gulman tilted his hat.
“Since the entity clearly bears no ill intent, there are only two possibilities: either they harbor a grudge against the Abyss Weaver and conveniently eliminated its kin upon spotting the cold spiders, or they deliberately acted to save the two people down below. Questioning them right now accomplishes nothing if they know nothing. But if those youths can't keep a secret and actually reveal something, what do you plan to do next?”
Hearing this, the twenty-odd prominent figures present nodded in agreement. As everyone pondered the matter, a kindly-faced elderly woman in a nun's habit coughed softly and smiled at Mr. V. “What did you say those two children were called again?”
Mr. V immediately stood straight with hands at his sides, his expression exceptionally respectful. The elderly woman was Sister Nightingale, a healing sister of the Church of Suffering. Though only a rank five Soul Severer, she had personally braved numerous epidemic zones and saved countless lives; even the district bishop of the Church of Suffering obeyed her instructions without question.
“Lynch Levive and Natalie Angel.”
“Good. Remind me when we return,” the elderly woman instructed the middle-aged sister beside her. “Upgrade the files on these two and make a note that they are suspected of having the backing of a legendary expert.”
Mhm... Another round of nods swept the crowd. Before the sisters could even respond, representatives from the other organizations were already issuing identical instructions. The guiding principle was simple: downplay tonight's celestial omen as much as possible, act as if nothing had happened, and avoid provoking the two individuals involved, who likely enjoyed the support of a super-expert.
Soon, having reached their own conclusions, the assembled dignitaries swiftly dispersed. The unknown legendary expert might still be nearby, so avoiding the area was the wisest course.
However, the two individuals who had become the center of attention—and were suspected of being backed by a super-expert—had no idea what was taking place outside. They were already seated in a police carriage escorting Lynch home, watching Lynch tinker with his own soul.
In truth, she was watching him test his new toy: his alienated soul.
After several tests, Lynch discovered that whenever he turned his consciousness inward, a red moon appeared in his mind. The red mist symbolizing the Divine Authority of Concealment orbited the red moon like a satellite, taking the shape of a sphere of light.
The phantom of the red moon was his soul itself. Making contact with it felt like gazing into a mirror, allowing him to perceive his soul's condition with crystal clarity.
The moment his consciousness first converged onto the Divine Authority, boundless, indescribable, and incomprehensible information exploded deep within his mind.
It gave Lynch quite a fright.
Yet the crimson moon of his soul immediately shone with a gentle crimson light, under which the deluge of information peacefully merged into his consciousness.
Lynch felt somewhat dazed, as if he had grasped a wealth of uncanny and extraordinary knowledge, yet understood nothing at all. According to his neighbor, Luna, this was normal; given his current soul strength, it was impossible to fathom such profound concepts. As his soul grew stronger, he would naturally come to understand the meaning of authority.
For now, at least, Lynch understood how to use it.
Following the soul alienation, both his physical and mental fortitude in a normal state had noticeably improved. For his previously malnourished, frail frame, bench-pressing thirty kilograms was probably the absolute limit. Now, Lynch estimated that pressing forty or fifty kilograms would be no problem, and consistent exercise would increase it even further.
Furthermore, in his normal state, he could wield various abilities granted by his subordinate Divine Authority, along with certain arcane arts fueled by soul energy. When Officer Natalie had pulled him away from the besieging terror claws within the mystery relic's memory, that had been an application of this normal state. For a Soul Severer, that was merely routine handling of enemies, hardly qualifying as combat.
When activating a specific Divine Authority—just as Officer Natalie had done the previous night by shattering the authority's image and merging it with her body—one entered an activated state. Not only did physical prowess rise once more, but the effects of all associated abilities were substantially enhanced.
If one went so far as to shatter their soul manifestation itself and fuse it with the body, they would enter the ultimate transcendent state, gaining an all-around boost. However, once that state ended, they would fall into a brief period of extreme weakness, just as the female officer had experienced the night before, rendering them unable to break free of even simple cobwebs.
Yet Lynch quickly realized that beneath his sole authority, there was not a single ability listed; it was entirely blank.
Only after asking Officer Natalie did he learn that both the abilities of an authority and the arcane arts hidden in the soul had to be comprehended before they could be mastered.
Arcane arts were akin to magic, learned by reading various mystery documents and the insights of predecessors. Abilities, however, were far trickier. While there were many specific paths to comprehension, they all boiled down to one principle: comprehending them from mystery memories through mystery contact.
“To ordinary people, mystery is fraught with lethal danger. But for us Soul Severers, continuously coming into contact with mystery is our only chance to grow stronger,” the female officer said with a faint smile. “Such is the twisted fate of a Soul Severer: keeping company with mystery day in and day out, until one day we can endure no longer and are utterly swallowed by it, becoming part of the mystery ourselves. So, welcome to the world of Soul Severers, Lynch. What are your plans moving forward?”
“Me? I plan to reopen my agency, but rebrand it as an abnormal events office.”
“Oh? Any particular reason?”
“My current situation is far from ideal, so I have to increase my strength as quickly as possible. First, I just offended the Abyss Weaver. I don't know what it thinks, but the cultists behind it certainly won't be happy; I must build up my strength to defend against their retaliation. Second, the Frame Hand behind the Randall family's painting hasn't shown itself yet. Now that I've slipped from the Flicker's gaze and thoroughly swindled it, that mastermind is very likely to make another move. I've probably become a target for two sets of evil god cultists, so I have to prepare myself immediately.”
Lynch sighed. There were other matters he couldn't openly share.
The goal of immortality dangling before him like a carrot on a stick was simply too enticing. If he wanted to walk the path of immortality, clashing with evil gods was inevitable. Moreover, obtaining various abilities required continuous mystery contact, meaning he needed frequent exposure to mystery far more than ordinary Soul Severers.
In his view, nothing suited him better than being a private detective specializing in mysterious events. It offered freedom, various avenues to confront the supernatural, and a way to rapidly expand his network within the world of the occult—all while earning good money in a field he already knew well.
The only drawback was the danger. But precisely because it was dangerous, engaging more with mystery to boost his strength was all the more necessary.
Thus, he resolved to make this career the first step on his path to immortality. Well, at the very least, he needed to earn enough for living expenses first.
“Yeah, that truly is the most important thing for you right now.” Officer Natalie's expression suddenly turned a bit crestfallen. Looking away, she said softly, “The follow-up investigation has already exceeded our original agreement for your consulting role, so there's no need for you to stay involved. Focus on taking care of your own affairs first. If you need help with anything, come find me at the club. I won't hold you back for now.”
Lynch paused, then realized what was going on. A knowing half-smile appeared on his face. “There's something I won't hide from you either. I promised someone I'd investigate a series of cases related to the Square Massacre, delving even deeper than your investigation, in exchange for Red Moon Memories to save my life. While it's no longer so urgently needed, they reached out to help when I needed it most. As long as they show no malice, I intend to see this commission through to the best of my ability—that is my baseline. Besides, I will still need Red Moon Memories in the future.”
Officer Natalie nodded repeatedly, the disappointment on her face vanishing instantly.
“However, on the very first day of the investigation, I had a close encounter with an evil god and uncovered ties to prominent figures in city hall. The implications are bound to be massive, and the danger extraordinarily high. I'm just a rookie who recently completed soul alienation and hasn't even learned a single ability. Facing such a perilous case makes me terrified, so I want to find someone to protect me and investigate by my side. So, are you willing to help me, Natalie?”
The female officer bit her lip, averting her eyes with a faint blush. “Let me make one thing clear: I never intended to let an outsider help, nor do I think you're reliable. But you're right; the subsequent danger won't be minor, and letting you investigate recklessly would be hazardous. To protect your life, I'll reluctantly lend a hand. What are you laughing at? I'll wipe that grin off your face right now!”
“Pfft-hahaha, I'm really not laughing,” Lynch said, already burying his face in his hands on the carriage seat, stammering through suppressed chuckles. “I was just wondering if you physically can't deliver such reasonable lines without looking away.”
“Keep laughing, see what happens.” Giving up on hiding her flushed face, the female officer stomped “lightly” on Lynch's foot, rolling her eyes in annoyance. “Laugh again and I'll stomp harder. Now start talking—what should our next move be?”
“First, we still need the case files on those clashes and fatalities. Given what you described today about the Weaver, its methods for keeping secrets are directed at humans; it wouldn't set a police station on fire. That suggests something else is going on behind the scenes, so we'd best get our eyes on those files—they might harbor crucial secrets.”
“Second, little Martha mentioned that when she helped a reporter deliver photographs to a colleague, her ring became tainted with mystery. That reminded me of Donnie, who died in Madam Bessie's shop. He might be another breakthrough point. In short, we can start by looking into the Investigator newspaper.”
“Third is the Valente family. The hillman we saw this afternoon—the one covered in flesh tumors—was likely the hillman Jeremy mentioned who peered into the mystery relic. We don't know what role the Valente family plays yet, but that's another angle.”
“And finally, city hall...”
“The Speaker of the House of Commons holds immense status; handling him directly won't be easy,” Officer Natalie noted with concern.
“I know. That's why I suggest we deal with the direct accomplices on the front lines, like those in the Railway Workers’ Union, as soon as possible. As for the Speaker, don't touch him, don't question him, and don't even mention anything about him in our official reports. If we keep him from realizing we know his secret, our investigation will proceed much more smoothly.”
“Yeah, I understand.” Officer Natalie nodded gently as she listened to Lynch's analysis.
“So starting tomorrow morning, we'll launch a targeted investigation, beginning with the Investigator newspaper.”
“Sounds good. But tomorrow morning might not work. Before we left, Victor asked me to let you know to drop by the club tomorrow. He wants to take you somewhere to meet a few people.”
“Huh? What for? I have no interest in socializing; I'd rather not go.”
“An official commendation, and an introduction to some prospective high-value clients.” Officer Natalie flashed a radiant smile. “So, Mr. Thirteen Shillings, are you going or not?”
“For the honor of the Watchers!” Lynch instantly roared with solemn loyalty. “Should we head over tonight instead?”
Rate on N.U.
