“Stealing books is one thing, but why burn down the library?”
Shade looked directly into his cold eyes.
“Sir, you aren't going to tell me that you have a penchant for arson, are you?”
“A single fire burns everything clean; it leaves no clues.”
The Sir gently swirled his wine glass, shifting his gaze away from Shade to look once more at the falling snow. Even with his secret exposed, he maintained his so-called elegance.
“This isn't the first time I've done this, Mr. Hamilton, but it is the first time I've been caught and forced to admit what I've done. In the past, I was never discovered. I have systematically studied psychology and criminology—oh, the latter is an emerging discipline. I even mastered a few special tricks to counter divination. The process of learning fascinated me, and to be honest, this feeling of being exposed is quite refreshing. It lets me know that on the path to knowledge, I still have a long way to go.”
The middle-aged gentleman smiled.
“You've reminded me never to be arrogant. On the path to knowledge, any one of us is but a student.”
“The Church already knows about you,” Shade said.
The Sir nodded.
“What I intend to do next wouldn't be permitted by the Church anyway, so this little matter is insignificant. Knight, this will likely be our last meeting. Next, I shall head to the 'Promised Land' bestowed upon me by fate to receive that unique, supreme wisdom. I am glad I could have a chat with you before I leave.”
He sighed softly.
“I am not well-acquainted with you, yet we are somewhat familiar. You know some things about me, but not many. Talking with you was probably the best choice.”
“Why do you think I would let you leave?” Shade asked curiously.
The Sir smiled again and casually tossed the glass, which still contained most of the red wine, down into the alley below.
The glass fell into the thick layer of snow; the spilling wine stained the white snow blood-red a moment before the glass embedded itself in the drift.
He turned his head slightly toward Shade.
“Because, of course...”
He pointed to himself.
“...I want to leave.”
Silver moonlight flashed through the sound of the wind, but a shield-shaped transparent great book blocked it.
The Southern Sir, clad in a black overcoat, descended from the terrace like a bat, landing in the deserted alley. As Shade retracted the book and jumped down, the steam mist brought by the appearance of a Fifth-Circle Warlock's Life Ring began to melt the freezing snow.
Shade did not manifest his own Life Ring. Instead, he looked at the Sir across the blizzard.
“Shade Hamilton, you are also a man of wisdom. Think carefully—if I didn't have the confidence to win, why would I have proactively revealed myself just now?”
Shade didn't try to persuade him. With a light tap of his toe, his entire body dissolved into a swarm of crimson butterflies.
The swarm dragged red streaks of light through the wind and snow, flying rapidly toward the Sir. The [Light] spirit rune on the Fifth-Circle Warlock's Life Ring flashed; the middle-aged gentleman extended a finger, and a slender beam of light erupted from his fingertip, sweeping through the red butterflies. After melting the snow, it even left scorched tracks on the ground.
However, the loss of a few red butterflies had no effect on Shade's main body. He dodged the attack and, once he determined the distance was right, manifested his physical form. Before the following beam of light could reach him, he stepped forward and appeared behind Sir Prishia.
“Moonlight Greatsword.”
The crimson short blade stabbed toward the man's back, but as if he had foreseen Shade's spatial movement, the man spun around instantly and blocked with his cane—
*Clang!*
The Moonlight short blade shattered the wooden shell of the cane, revealing a metal rapier hidden inside. The wooden shell had actually been a containment measure; only after breaking it did Shade realize the rapier was a Relic.
Metal clashed with the short blade. As crimson sparks flew, the Moonlight Greatsword did not break. Instead, relying on his extremely powerful physical constitution, Shade used raw strength to pin down Sir Prishia, who was holding the rapier with both hands, using only one of his own.
*Three Moons converging... the enhancement is actually this great,* he thought.
“Spatial power? Impressive,” Sir Prishia squeezed the words through his teeth.
Just as Shade summoned a second short blade with [Blade of Distorted Space-Time] to thrust, the Sir exploded in front of him.
The fireworks and sound of the explosion were muffled by the wind and snow. Shade, whose clothes across his chest were completely blown apart, huffed and looked up.
Larkins Prishia was clutching his chest, panting heavily, as he reached into his clothes to pull out a book.
“His Highness said that although you are Fourth-Circle, your combat strength is extreme. Now it seems His Highness was being modest. I sensed the power of time and space, and that short blade—even without touching me, I can tell my flesh is being corrupted by it.”
After all, the [Red Moon] spirit rune came directly from the divinity of the Vampire God. Shade had already experienced how powerful the [Gluttony] spirit rune, which also originated from a deity, could be.
Shade remained silent. As a massive snowball, large enough to block the alley, plummeted from above Sir Prishia's head, he stepped forward again with the short blade.
The snowball looked ordinary, but the Sir sensed danger. First, he attempted to blast the snowball with a fireball, but upon discovering it had no effect, he was crushed beneath it.
But before Shade could get closer, the snowball exploded from within. When Larkins Prishia reappeared before Shade, three brand new spirit runes had appeared on his Life Ring.
“Knowledge is power, and stories can provide inspiration. I like your story, Detective; I also like an ancient legend about a swordsman.”
The Southern gentleman gripped his rapier. The Miracle [Sword], Miracle [Hero], and Enlightenment [Justice] all flashed with light—these were all temporary spirit runes added to himself via books.
“Mr. Hamilton, I must leave, otherwise I shall be late. My impression of you is actually quite good; the world needs people like you. If I were you, I would leave this city as soon as possible, take Her Highness Margaret, and flee in a direction far away from Pantanal.”
He held the rapier in one hand before him, the blade pointed at himself. With a twist of his wrist, the blade rotated ninety degrees, and the Relic sword manifested golden trails of light. A power that did not belong to a Fifth-Circle Warlock erupted from the Sir.
“Oddity! Dawn—Sword of Justice!”
Blinding light instantly melted all the snow in the alley, and the sharp sword-light nearly pierced through space in that instant. A light containing immense mental power exploded within the blizzard-swept alley. An intense sense of crisis forced Shade to retreat rapidly, but it was already too late.
“Ragley's Leap!”
He stepped into the air, shifting away from the most powerful point of the sword-light.
“Calm State.”
He didn't need to coordinate his emotions; he was already angry enough. Covering his face with both hands, he transformed in mid-air into a curled angel statue with wings. Even so, after the thunderous crash, Shade felt as if his entire body was falling apart upon landing. One must remember that in the [Calm State], his defensive power was staggering.
Struggling to stand, he looked back at the alley. All the snow had melted, and a deep trench occupying a third of the alley's floor had appeared. Simultaneously, the surging residual power made the ground glow, forcing the drifting snowflakes to melt before they could touch the earth.
*Very powerful, but not overwhelmingly so,* Shade thought. He hadn't used his full strength either. He recalled that when he first faced Joey Barton in autumn, the other had already been able to utilize the power of the Level 0 Relic, the Threshold of Life and Death.
“Too much noise, let's go!”
He trudged through the muddy alley where the snow had melted. Fortunately, the first people to arrive were Sister Devlin and the maid.
The two supported the injured Shade and quickly left the area.
“Sister, do you know what kind of Oddity the [Dawn Sword of Justice] is?”
“A high-circle Oddity that can only be used by those at the Twelfth-Circle or above; it requires extremely strict casting requirements.”
It seemed that Larkins Prishia could not only borrow books to gain temporary spirit runes but could even bypass casting requirements. He wondered if the man had more tricks; if this was all, any Thirteenth-Circle Warlock could defeat him.
People attracted by the loud noise were cautiously approaching the mouth of the alley. Tomorrow's *Huntington Morning Post* would likely feature a news report about a gas pipe explosion. Police blew their whistles, using shrill voices to drive people away, while Shade, supported by the two ladies, disappeared around the corner of the street.
His injuries were not as scary as they looked on the surface. If Sister Devlin hadn't treated him in time, he would have almost healed himself. Of course, the displaced bones still needed to be reset, a task Sister Devlin performed well. Only then did Shade remember that the [Spiritual Cult] was actually a group renowned for its expertise in healing and stargazing.
Although he had lied to Larkins Prishia, claiming he was there to meet Margaret to give the princess a surprise, Shade ultimately did not go to see her. After the steam train carrying the visiting delegation arrived at the station, he went with Sister Devlin and the two witches to the White King Club in the city to discuss the current situation.
The room the four of them used was on the third floor of the club under Margaret's name—the same place where Shade had first met Miss Sylvia and Margaret in late autumn.
In the blink of an eye, it was now deep winter.
The witches' unpleasant journey went without saying; they had arrived travel-worn for the sake of the Chosen. Sitting in the warm club room, Miss Galina noticed that the clothes Shade was wearing were not the ones he usually wore when going out. She teased him with a smile, only to find out later that they had just encountered Larkins Prishia.
“As you know, he was supposed to be with the delegation, but he disappeared midway. Yes, I discovered in Tobesk that he was involved in an arson-murder case. By the time the Church went to arrest him, he had already fled. He admitted to me that he has colluded with the Pantanal Voodoo Society to go to some 'Promised Land.'”
Shade looked at the three ladies before him—specifically the two witches who did not yet know that Sir Prishia was the Chosen.
“He has a very peculiar ability to use books to temporarily add new spirit runes to himself.”
He briefly described the battle. After listening, the witches exchanged glances, and Miss Sylvia said with certainty, “So, the Chosen is him.”
“Yes, I believe so.”
“I have a feeling you knew that already,” the red-haired Duchess said, sitting leisurely with a teacup in her hand.
“Before getting off the train, we received new news from the Council. The Zalas Academy successfully deciphered a batch of new ancient documents. Through fragments of poetic verses, it has been basically confirmed that the location for this Chosen ceremony is the island in the center of the Great Lake in the Pantanal region. The verses give that island a very interesting name—the Heart of Pantanal. It is the most important area of the entire Great Marsh and holds a pivotal position in occultism and sealing rituals.”
This was another term Shade was very familiar with. From late autumn until now, all clues and conflicts had converged toward the center of the distant Great Marsh. The epic of the fourth Chosen had finally reached its final act in this blizzardy weather.
(End of Chapter)