Siles turned his head to look at the detective.
After a moment of silence, he said, “I understand your meaning. However, we don’t have any definitive evidence after all. Right now, we must first address what is about to happen here.”
Jon peered closely at Siles for a moment, then smiled. “Of course, Professor Noel,” he said in a near-nonchalant tone. “Whatever the case, at least I haven’t eaten Greyson’s food. Have you?”
Siles shook his head.
“That’s good,” Jon said lightly, giving Siles a quick wink. “As a detective, I think I ought to play my part. Since they intend to do something at this banquet, there must be some of their people among these hundred or so guests.”
“Can you find them?” Siles asked.
“I hope I can,” Jon replied. “Wait for my good news. By the way, you should just stay right here. This is a good spot. I think you’ll make an excellent information hub.”
Siles was momentarily speechless, but then he said, “Then I should put this location to good use. Dorothea’s grandfather ate those desserts and is acting strangely. He went to rest, and Dorothea is accompanying him.
“Furthermore, a friend of mine who knows the location of the palace kitchen is currently investigating over there. Beyond the banquet, I believe there are many people in the city of Lamifa who are also working hard for this cause.”
A flash of astonishment crossed Jon’s eyes. He hesitated for a moment, then fixed a firm gaze on Siles. “That truly is excellent news.”
Siles nodded in agreement.
Jon waved farewell and stepped away for the time being.
Standing by the window, Siles’s gaze naturally drifted outside. I hope everything goes smoothly with Dominic’s operation, he thought.
Ten minutes later, the Grand Duke of Konst and his consort appeared in the hall together, fully arrayed in grand attire and smiling.
This was Siles’s first time seeing the Grand Duke in person, not counting the newspapers. The Grand Duke of Konst was a man in his late thirties with a resolute, almost cold gaze. He looked like the kind of monarch who would conquer and expand frontiers for his country.
His wife was a woman in her early thirties, possessing an elegant and gentle demeanor with a kind gaze. Wearing a long white dress, she stood beside the Grand Duke, remaining remarkably low-key and quiet, responding to others’ greetings solely with a smile.
They walked through the hall for a time, engaging in conversation with various noble families.
Siles surmised that much of their dialogue touched upon the future and development of the nation, perhaps even involving the Ashless Land, the Fog, Awakeners, and so forth. However, what truly puzzled Siles was that the Grand Duke genuinely seemed to have absolutely no inkling of the Greyson Company’s plot regarding tonight’s banquet.
The royal couple also passed by Siles. The Grand Duke cast a cold, emotionless glance over, while the Grand Duchess nodded with a smile. Siles merely returned a subtle smile.
Jon returned to Siles’s side before long.
“How is it? Any findings?” Siles asked.
“I don’t know if it counts as a finding,” Jon said. “Have you noticed the looks in the eyes of the people around us? They resemble stringed puppets, allowed to be manipulated by others. However, there are also a select few—aside from us—who are consistently maintaining their clarity.”
“That sounds highly suspicious.”
Jon gave a faint, imperceptible smile. “Indeed. I am keeping an eye on their positions. If they make any unusual movements, I can detect them immediately.”
Siles glanced at him, thinking, You look highly suspicious yourself.
Regardless, Siles didn’t particularly want to doubt his “temporary companion” at this juncture. At the very least, judging from Jon’s actions, he truly wished to resolve Greyson’s plot.
…Out of a detective’s sense of duty?
Siles was about to say something, but by this time, the Grand Duke had finished conversing with almost every noble family and officially announced the commencement of the banquet.
With five or six minutes remaining before seven o’clock, a side door suddenly swung open. A heavy-set, obese man led a file of servants pouring into the room.
He approached the Grand Duke’s side, bowing slightly as he whispered something, while the servants began guiding the guests toward the banquet halls for the actual feast.
Siles frowned slightly and asked Jon in a low voice, “Do you know who that man is?”
“Who?” Jon asked, unfamiliar with the direction.
“The man standing next to the Grand Duke.”
Jon looked over.
It was a portly man dressed in a tailcoat. He looked slick and heavily powdered, his skin reflecting an oily sheen under the crystalline lights of the hall, resembling a mass of oozing fat.
Jon hesitated a moment before explaining, “Based on my understanding of the Grand Duke… that is likely the palace Chamber-master. He is specifically in charge of daily life inside the palace.”
Siles narrowed his eyes, training his gaze on the man. Akamara’s Eyeglass Frame zoomed his vision directly onto the man’s face, allowing him to clearly discern an unusual combination of panic and excitement hidden within his eyes and expression.
After a brief pause, Siles noted, “That is a very critical post, is it not?”
“Indeed,” Jon agreed. “If he is the one plotting this behind the scenes, then perhaps the Grand Duke wouldn’t suspect his movements. The Grand Duke might genuinely be completely oblivious to everything that is about to unfold.”
Siles kept his brows slightly furrowed. He wasn’t particularly fond of the “important figures are merely being deceived” narrative. However, given the current situation, they truly couldn’t find any trace suggesting the Grand Duke knew of the matter.
A servant approached Siles and Jon, leading them toward the location where the banquet would take place. The Grand Duke and Grand Duchess separately led different noble men and women to the main and secondary banquet halls respectively to conduct their meals.
This separation triggered a subtle sense of unease in Siles’s heart.
He glanced toward the female guests’ side, noting that Dorothea had already returned and was currently walking beside Angela, Marchioness Austin, and Millicent.
Noticing Siles’s gaze, Dorothea gave him a nod from afar.
Siles felt a wave of relief—whatever the case, Dorothea was at least a genuine Awakener, and quite possibly even more powerful than himself.
On the male guests’ side, Edward Bellow remained nowhere to be found. It was unclear if he had discovered anything over by the kitchen. Siles noticed Elder David conversing in low tones with an equally elderly noble.
They walked into a grand, elegant, yet secluded and spacious banquet hall. A long table was positioned squarely in the center of the room. There were no ceiling lights here; only candlelight and wall lamps illuminated the space.
The Grand Duke of Konst had already taken his seat at the farthest end of the long table, smiling as he raised his glass to toast everyone.
From afar, Siles caught sight of the foul, black mud-water inside that cup, causing his stomach to churn. Part of the dishes already laid out on the table emitted the aroma of food, yet Siles didn’t even dare to look at those things closely.
He took his seat under the arrangement of a servant. His position was located right at the tail end of the long table. He felt fortunate to have been assigned this spot; otherwise, he might have found it impossible to control his facial expressions.
He sat down, staring at a dead fly floating inside the ambiguous liquid of his cup.
Siles: “…”
He subtly leaned back, moving a bit further away from the glass.
A guest beside him gasped in a low voice, “What a sumptuous feast!”
Siles closed his eyes, feeling this banquet torturing him from a completely different angle. He deeply wished to take off the glasses, but Akamara’s Eyeglass Frame truly provided immensely powerful assistance.
When he opened his eyes and looked toward the Grand Duke, he discovered that the Chamber-master who had consistently followed the sovereign earlier had now vanished without a trace—at this moment, he should be heading to the kitchen to confirm the status of the dishes, right?
The Grand Duke of Konst delivered a speech, broadly outlining the prospects for the coming year and making a shallow mention of the Lamifa Urban Reconstruction Plan, which was slated to be put on the agenda after the New Year.
Siles sensed the breathing of many people in this banquet hall turning rapid. Burning avarice and piles of gold seemed to be beckoning to them.
Siles calmly observed the states of the people around him, noting that their expressions were becoming increasingly uncontrolled, distorting into bizarre contortions from time to time. From this perspective, they resembled Awakeners who had succumbed to corruption without even realizing it.
Yet Siles was certain that these people were entirely ordinary humans.
He pondered silently, Could the power of a deity directly affect ordinary people? Or have they already become a part of a ritual, yet no one knows exactly when the ritual commenced?
With such thoughts occupying his mind, he barely had any attention to spare for the “Lamifa Urban Reconstruction Plan” the Grand Duke spoke of.
Having finished his speech, the Grand Duke clapped his hands, signaling the attendants to begin serving the dishes. They were about to enjoy this banquet.
Siles grew increasingly tense. Everything would descend into chaos the moment the banquet officially commenced; such was his deduction.
Servants appeared bearing trays of assorted dishes one after another. The Chamber-master still did not reappear.
Siles thought expressionlessly to himself: Censored, censored, censored…
Suddenly, just as the surrounding nobles’ eyes lit up with anticipation, preparing to sample these “delicacies,” a loud boom echoed from deep within the castle, reaching everyone’s ears from afar.
Simultaneously, everyone heard countless people outside the castle on Atherton Square letting out terrified, incredulous screams.
What happened? Siles stood up almost instinctively. Sitting at the end of the table, while the other nobles merely inquired in alarm and suspicion about what was going on, he had already rushed out the door at the very first instance to observe the situation within the castle.
He naturally knew that something had also gone wrong outside the castle. But that wasn’t something he had the luxury to attend to right now; he could only try his best to resolve the matters inside the palace.
He reached his hand into his pocket, pulling out the Suffocation Potion. His pocket also held the shield fragments bestowed by Knight Commander Bunyan, which, coupled with the brooch on his lapel, constituted the entirety of his strength.
…The dress code requirements of the banquet. He silently critiqued in his heart. Truly terrible. Perhaps he should first return to the lounge to retrieve his backpack? The Warrior’s Black Umbrella was right there.
However, from a time perspective, he could no longer make it back to the lounge. The situation had already changed. Going to the lounge and back would take at least ten minutes.
This massive palace. Siles narrowed his eyes with slight displeasure, and then heard a rush of hurried footsteps behind him.
Detective Jon followed closely in his wake. They looked back and discovered that only the two of them had left the banquet hall. They heard a wave of clamor from inside the hall, followed by the Grand Duke’s authoritative voice shouting, “Silence!”
Simultaneously, they also caught other voices. Someone seemed to be maintaining order, but they also heard the sounds of cups and plates smashing onto the floor.
Siles and Jon exchanged glances.
Jon asked in confusion, “Did someone discover the problem with those foods?”
“I don’t know,” Siles said in a low voice.
However, he harbored suspicions in his heart. After all, there were also Awakeners from the Church of the Past and the Historical Society present in this banquet. Perhaps they had enacted something.
But they had no time to worry about everything happening in the banquet hall now either. Since they had already left, he naturally had no intention of returning. At this moment, the castle appeared remarkably empty and dark.
Siles asked, “Do you still remember where that boom came from?”
“Of course,” Jon said, stretching out his hand to point straight ahead.
“Then let’s go,” Siles said.
He suspected something had gone wrong over by the kitchen. He wondered what exactly Edward had uncovered. Would it be related to that vanished Chamber-master?
Siles advanced step by step, feeling as though he was about to lift the veil obscuring the truth.
Dominic shared this exact same feeling. Standing before that familiar black door, a sense of trepidation and hesitation surfaced within him.
Many years ago, he had come to this place under the guidance of that damnable fellow, Desmond, subjecting himself to a cruel method of self-destruction—affecting both body and soul alike.
They would roast their skin under a blazing sun; they would experience the sensation of salivation and acid reflux under extreme hunger; they would sleep silently amidst filth and foul odors.
Recalling that experience after so many years, Dominic felt an incredible sense of wonder. He had actually done those things once, yet his past self hadn’t found it strange at all, even harboring a bizarre sense of… happiness.
Yes, happiness. He felt everything he did was entirely worthwhile. He was even enjoying that self-torture rather than feeling pain.
…Timiafa. Blancani. Dominic silently chanted the names of these two deities in his heart.
Then he reached out, firmly and forcefully pushing open this black door.
A burst of extreme radiance instantly illuminated their slightly dim vision. Dominic heard someone behind him drawing a sharp breath, as if their eyes had been irritated by the sudden light. He couldn’t help but narrow his eyes as well.
They were currently inside the headquarters of the Torture Society, an ancient residence that nominally belonged to the Dwight family.
This place was located in the southern suburbs, near Mount Hughes. In recent decades, the nobles preferred to acquire land and build new estates in the northern suburbs. But for some old, conservative, and declined noble families, the scenic southern suburbs remained their premier choice.
They resembled a pack of elderly folk who had failed to keep up with the times, yet still maintained a few scruples and bizarre creeds.
Dominic had instructed one investigator to lead the others to investigate the Greyson Food Company. Through Trace Tracking, they had already unearthed some signs sufficient to help them track down Greyson’s food processing factory.
As for Dominic himself, he brought several investigators straight to the Torture Society headquarters in the southern suburbs. Deep within the lush woods, they traversed countless oddly shaped branches and shrubs before arriving at this residence with black-painted walls.
The main doors were tightly shut, but they couldn’t care less at this stage, directly destroying the lock with brute force as they made their way to the third floor.
Dominic pushed open this black door.
They wafted into a heavy stench of blood. The oncoming foul odor caused even these battle-hardened investigators to inevitably display expressions of disgust and nausea. Countless corpses were piled up on the dark flooring, resembling a mountain of meat stacked upon dinner plates.
The expression on every single corpse was frozen in that terrifying, spine-chilling mask of happiness and joy, as if death had instead granted their wishes. On the ceiling, a lonely white shadow was carved into the mud wall.
“Don’t look up!” Dominic shouted loudly. “The ceiling holds the objective of their ritual!”
“To feed a deity…?”
“No, this is a sacrificial scene.”
“Why did they have to put it on the ceiling of all places?”
“Supposedly, this is Timiafa’s method of feeding. He stretches his head over the food platter, looking down intently at the food in the dish before he actually acts.”
“…How terrifying. For humans, it’s as if there’s a salivating, hungry mouth hanging right over our heads.”
“But that’s… Blancani?”
“They seem to have… confused Timiafa and Blancani?”
Amidst the investigators’ discussion, Dominic suddenly uttered, “Desmond.”
His gaze landed on a specific section of that mountain of flesh composed of corpses. Those bodies had their limbs intertwined, their arms and legs knotted together like ropes, making it impossible to distinguish if the arm resting on a person’s head actually belonged to the owner of the corpse.
However, Dominic did find a familiar face.
His past nightmare. That terrifying, distorted, and crazed Desmond lay dead right here, his face bearing the same joy and pleasure indistinguishable from the others, as if this was the very truth taught to him by the deity he believed in.
An unnameable emotion filled Dominic’s heart. He couldn’t help but wonder, what exactly went wrong? What had caused a group of devout believers of Blancani—who had once been deemed entirely harmless in everyone’s impressions—to ultimately turn into this current state?
What had cornered them into a dead end of fate?
Dominic felt his thoughts veering off track. He knew full well that he shouldn’t be pondering these questions right now, shouldn’t be wondering why these former companions of his had died in such a manner.
He subconsciously touched his chest, and after a moment, murmured in a low voice: “My Lord Antinamum… please grant them eternal rest.”
Beside him, his current companions mirrored his movement, reciting the exact same words.
A moment later, Dominic took a deep breath and said in a low voice, “Burn this place down.”
One of the investigators cast a slightly startled look at Dominic, but subsequently nodded as well, saying, “This is the safest method.”
Burn it down. But that wasn’t a standard fire; it was the ritual Nameless Fire.
That was a ritual accessible solely to the followers of Antinamum, used precisely to purge all traces left behind by old gods and their adherents.
When the Nameless Fire burned, this house might not be completely destroyed, but these corpses, that shadow on the ceiling, and that blood water would certainly vanish without a trace.
Those volatile Time Traces temporarily reclaimed by the Church of the Past would be baked over a long period by the Nameless Fire, subsequently returned to their owners after passing the “observation period.”
…Of course, in most cases, the items would never be returned.
A translucent blue flame ignited quietly. They opened small boxes one after another, retrieving blue crystalline substances emitting faint glows—Star Dust—and tossing them into the center of the flames to serve as fuel.
The corpses reduced to ashes under the burning flames, and subsequently, even the ashes annihilated completely beneath the fire.
The blue flames reflected inside Dominic’s eyes.
A moment later, he said, “Leave two people here to continue the inspection. The rest follow me.”
It was time to head to that final ritual location. They had destroyed one of the “altars,” but this was clearly not their primary altar.
Siles and Jon encountered a completely unexpected figure right at the entrance of the palace kitchen.
“Horatio,” Siles said in a low voice.
The muddled, pale-faced figure standing at the kitchen entrance was precisely Siles’s student, Horatio Dwight.
Hearing his name, Horatio snapped his head up, staring at Siles in shock. He said almost without thinking, “Professor! Leave quickly!”
Jon watched the two of them in surprise.
Siles shook his head, merely asking, “What happened? Horatio, we still have time to resolve all of this.”
Horatio’s face could almost be described as ghastly white. He said, “I… I don’t know. I don’t know anything. Grandfather brought me here… everything changed. I don’t understand why they want to…”
“What did they do in the kitchen?”
Horatio looked blank for a moment before saying, “I don’t know.”
“Then can you let us inside?” Siles asked.
His gaze swept over the dense blue glow enveloping Horatio’s body. The blue glow on this young student was the most intense Siles had ever seen in his life.
…50% purity. The ritual time would last for another 12 hours.
He couldn’t help but think, This truly is an astonishing purity and duration. Clarence Dwight had truly spared no expense.
Yet, he simply tossed his grandson here to serve as a gatekeeper?
Horatio bit his lip fiercely, and finally, he said with great difficulty, “No, no… I’m sorry, Professor, I cannot let you inside.”
Detective Jon inquired with immense interest, “But you know full well what they are doing, don’t you? That is by no means anything good, yet you still intend to block us?”
Horatio looked pale as a ghost, yet insisted, “I cannot let you enter. This is… what Grandfather told me to do.”
He clearly knew what was about to happen, and was even highly terrified and anxious himself. However, he remained steadfast, consistently obeying his elder’s instructions.
Siles suddenly struck upon a thought—family heritage, was it? He should have realized the moment he saw Horatio that this student was likewise, or had unknowingly become, a believer of Blancani.
Firm, self-disciplined, self-restrained, living within a set of rules he bounded himself with. Siles couldn’t say what was wrong with such a lifestyle and life creed; at least it wouldn’t cause any problems under normal circumstances.
However, encountering a situation like this… he truly felt it a pity.
Siles let out a soft sigh. “Horatio.”
“Professor.” Horatio’s gaze was filled with guilt, but his movements remained resolute, standing entirely motionless before that exquisite kitchen door like a loyal sentry.
Without a word, Siles opened the cap of the Suffocation Potion in his pocket with one hand, then splashed it directly onto the back of Horatio’s hand.
Horatio stared at Siles in astonishment, then looked down in confusion at the liquid on the back of his hand. After about a second or two, he suddenly let out a strangled gasp, clutching his neck in agony as he stared at Siles in distress.
Siles turned to Jon and said, “Knock him out.”
Jon complied, striking the back of Horatio’s neck with the edge of his palm, but remarked, “I don’t understand why you didn’t do it yourself. Clearly, you’ve already subjected your student to this pain.”
Siles reached out to catch the collapsing Horatio. After losing consciousness, his breathing appeared to have normalized. Siles let out a gentle sigh of relief, setting him aside.
Siles cast a cool glance at Jon, stating flatly, “Because I don’t know how to knock a person out.”
Jon choked instantly, muttering something under his breath.
Siles thought to himself, Is it highly abnormal to not know how to knock someone out? Of course he didn’t know!
He said nothing more, merely reaching out to grip the intricately carved bronze doorknob, and said, “I’m opening the door.”
Jon took a deep breath, flexing his fingers. “Open it.”
Without hesitation, Siles pressed the handle down, paused for a fraction of a second, then slammed it open.
A dense aroma of meat instantly permeated their noses. But when they clearly perceived the scene inside the room, that meaty aroma abruptly transformed into something akin to a death toll.
The horrific scene caused a chill to race down Siles’s spine.
The palace kitchen was naturally exceptionally vast and beautiful, boasting bright lighting and tidy cooking stations.
Half of the chefs were bustling about, continuing to prepare delicious cuisines for the guests and occasionally handing trays over to the waiting attendants; they seemed completely oblivious to the events unfolding in the other half of the space.
It was an exceptionally bloody and terrifying sight.
Countless corpses were piled on one side, while someone was executing rigid actions, feeding those corpses one by one into a meat grinder. The meat grinder roared, human bodies entered, and minced meat emerged.
One meat grinder lay overturned nearby. Edward Bellow stood there trembling; it seemed it was he who had used some method to topple this grinder. This was likely the source of that massive boom they had heard earlier.
Further in the distance, blood, flesh, bone, and the Duchy coins of Konst were intermingled, collectively forming a mountain of meat. The strange drawing of the man wearing a chef’s hat was pasted on the ceiling.
On one side of the meat mountain, some people were feeding voraciously, stuffing those chunks of meat greedily into their mouths; on the other side of the mountain, some people lay on the ground, curling themselves up, seemingly murmuring something under their breath.
Standing in front of the meat mountain were two men, one thin and one heavy-set. Both had their backs to the entrance, seemingly gazing intently at the scene before them.
“…What happened?!”
A familiar voice echoed from behind. Siles subconsciously turned his head to look, discovering it was Dorothea and Angela. They had likely also heard the noise and run out from the banquet hall to investigate.
But a situation like this… perhaps they would have been better off not coming.
Everyone stared dumbfounded at that mountain of meat rising up to the ceiling. Meanwhile, minced meat continued to accumulate there. Those on the right side of the meat mountain who hadn’t fed would occasionally crawl on their knees to the outlet of the meat grinder, slowly pushing those meats and bones to the bottom of the pile.
That meat, that bloody stench, those white bones, those human mouths…
Siles closed his eyes, feeling a wave of vertigo.
“Where did so many corpses come from?!” Jon whispered in disbelief.
It was he who had personally stated that Lamifa City had countless unclaimed bodies every year, yet now, it was also he who spoke with such astonishment and disbelief, unable to comprehend how there could be so many.
Suddenly, a chef completed his dish. He let out a long sigh of relief, then removed his chef’s hat. He stripped off his clothing piece by piece, subsequently walking calmly toward the meat grinder with a joyful and peaceful gaze, preparing to step inside.
Siles heard Angela let out a sharp scream.
“Enough!” Edward Bellow bellowed.
He activated something in his hand. Siles merely saw a streak of blue light shoot out, piercing the chef’s left shoulder. The man collapsed to the ground, losing his mobility for the moment, yet still writhing as he attempted to crawl over there.
Siles focused his gaze and discovered that Edward held a tiny arrowhead in his hand. That was likely the Time Trace he was accustomed to using. Holding this Trace was akin to holding a bow and arrow.
“This is everything you are doing?” Edward shouted in fury. “This is what you—Clarence Dwight, Bolin Elgar—this is what you are doing?!”
Clarence Dwight offered no response. He remained standing there, gazing at the mountain of meat.
However, Bolin Elgar, the heavy-set man, turned around and said, “Indeed, Mr. Bellow. This is precisely what we are doing.”
He was all smiles, retrieving a hard candy from his pocket and popping it into his mouth out of habit, chewing on it with great relish.
“You vainly attempt to resurrect Timiafa and Blancani?” Siles advanced a few steps, questioning.
“Ah! Professor Noel.” Elgar seemed to suddenly notice Siles’s presence, laughing loudly as he addressed him. “Thanks to you. You should know, these days precisely require that masterpiece of yours!”
Siles furrowed his brows tightly. Before arriving at this banquet, he hadn’t imagined that his novel would happen to align with this group’s plot.
…No wonder The Rose’s Revenge sold so well. Siles had always felt it was somewhat strange, but prior to this, he had consistently assumed it was merely because he had taken a unique path, thus coincidentally catering to certain repressed atmospheres of this era.
As it turned out, nothing “ought to be” so naturally. The development of any matter possessed its source and trajectory. Clearly, someone was promoting Siles’s work in the dark, inadvertently forging his resounding reputation.
Regrettably, Siles had failed to detect it before now.
He acted as though he hadn’t heard Elgar’s words, merely stating, “Can you really resurrect a deity?”
Elgar’s smile vanished. He stated, “For today, we have plotted for a full fourteen years.” His face carried a near-illusory sense of happiness. “Fourteen years ago, the Grand Duke ascended the throne, replacing the staff inside the palace.
“I seized this opportunity to enter the palace, becoming the Chamber-master here. I established a food company, but consistently waited, waited—and this year! The Withered Wasteland Development Project! What an astounding point in time!
“Everyone has their hearts swayed by this, everyone vainly attempts to obtain more profit. Humans! This is humanity! The greed in our hearts boils, the joy in our hearts surges. My Lord, this is precisely what My Lord cherishes!”
A wave of blissful flush appeared on Elgar’s face; he seemed intoxicated by such a beautiful dream. And now, the dream had become reality.
Siles listened while observing the situation of the entire kitchen, attempting to find a breakthrough point. They had to destroy that mountain of meat as well as that drawing on the ceiling.
Fourteen years, he thought once more. That was precisely the year the Chairman of the Dawn Awakening Society, Mr. Xia, had departed.
Elgar suddenly burst into loud laughter. “Fourteen years, we have finally awaited this suitable opportunity!” he declared. “I will not give you any opportunity to destroy this operation!”
As he spoke, he suddenly reached out and shoved Clarence Dwight beside him. Clarence cast a side glance at him, and subsequently, before anyone could react, leapt directly into the still-operating meat grinder.
“Ah!”
“Dammit!”
Following a spine-chilling crunching sound, fresh minced meat emerged.
Elgar dropped to his knees, murmuring, “My Lord Timiafa. My Lord Blancani. Devout believers offer up fresh flesh and blood to you, devout believers deliver the fruits of asceticism to you… Power that has faded for many years yet still remains, please respond to such devotion from us…
“Life and death have become the things we value least… We merely wish to receive your response. So many years have passed, yet the aura of death cannot shroud your will. Even death itself is a possession within a deity’s grasp…
“You will be the greatest! You will be the oldest! You will be watched by the world! We are here, in the four hundredth year of this era, awaiting your re-descent… You will fuse, you will recast, you will regenerate…”
He spoke words that no one could comprehend.
“Interrupt him!” Siles had no time to ponder the meaning revealed in these words. He shouted loudly, already advancing with large strides as he opened the Suffocation Potion, splashing it toward Elgar.
At this moment, the others were likewise employing their own methods.
Angela also produced her Suffocation Potion, simultaneously drawing a small knife from her handbag and hurling it forward with force.
Dorothea did not use the potion. Instead, she retrieved an oddly shaped Time Trace that resembled a small paintbrush, pointing it toward Elgar as she traced with difficulty, seemingly attempting to control his movements.
Jon removed a bracelet from his wrist, tossing it toward Elgar with a solemn gaze. It appeared capable of directly binding the man.
Edward’s position was closer than any of theirs, and he acted even earlier than anyone else. That blue feathered arrow reached Elgar’s location almost the exact moment Siles spoke.
“Boom—!”
A massive sound detonated in their ears instantly. A thin layer of blood mist abruptly manifested around Elgar’s body; this mist not only deflected their attacks, but violently reflected all the strikes right back.
In the blink of an eye, Siles saw Jon bound by his own bracelet, Edward’s chest pierced by the blue arrow, Dorothea collapsing heavily to the ground, and Angela’s skirt splashed with a large amount of potion and slashed by the knife.
A wave of potion also splashed toward Siles’s front. He violently raised the shield fragment he had consistently held in his hand. The shield composed of blue light blocked the potion entirely.
“What kind of ritual is that!” Jon, who was likewise down on the ground, shouted loudly.
Elgar laughed loudly, declaring at the top of his lungs, “No one can disrupt My Lord’s sacrificial ceremony! This is My Lord’s protection over his devout believers!” As he spoke, he prostrated himself on the ground, crawling forward with great difficulty.
On the other side, the chefs still went about their business, crafting exquisite dishes.
Jon was immobilized; Edward’s life status was uncertain; Dorothea lay unconscious; Angela was injured in the leg and had come into contact with a bit of the potion, currently panting heavily.
Siles’s face was dark as water as he marched forward. He pondered countless times in his heart for any method he possessed to resolve the current situation.
The power of an Awakener? Time Traces? Rituals?
Elgar’s hand had already touched that terrifying, accumulated mountain of meat. A burst of intense red light erupted out. A dense aroma of food caused even Siles to lose focus for a split second. He heard the difficult panting of his companions behind him, followed by a blanket of silence.
Siles turned back to check, discovering that they had all collapsed unconscious onto the ground. It seemed the influence of that red light had pushed their mental states to the brink of collapse in an instant, causing their bodies’ self-protection mechanisms to knock them out.
Yet Siles merely felt a hint of daze. He thought calmly, A Willpower of 95 is indeed high enough—high enough to resist the invasion of a deity’s will.
The surroundings fell suddenly silent. The chefs halted their work, as did the meat grinder. Those who had been feeding and fasting had at some point lost consciousness. On the ceiling, on the drawing of that strange man, he seemed to blink his eyes.
At the kitchen entrance, a man materialized at some unknown point. His gaze locked onto Siles’s silhouette with immense interest.
Siles was oblivious to his appearance. He had already turned around quietly, his gaze locked firmly onto Bolin Elgar. This was the only other person in the kitchen aside from Siles who hadn’t lost consciousness.
At this moment, Elgar was murmuring something, seemingly praising the deity, seemingly weeping as to why the deity hadn’t appeared for so long, seemingly recounting his fourteen years of planning and calculations.
From Siles’s perspective, he could discern a bizarre red light linking Elgar’s brain with the mouth of that strange drawing on the ceiling, as if something was devouring Elgar’s soul.
Something was stirring in the shadows. Something was brewing and about to transpire in the darkness.
…What should he do?
“Check.” Siles stood alone, hearing his own low and calm voice. This was his final resort, his sole method, and he had to execute it.
This was a gamble against fate. Fortunately, he happened to be the dealer of this game.
But what should he bet on?
Siles merely hesitated for a fraction of a second, subsequently stating his choice calmly.
“Check Bolin Elgar’s Spirituality attribute.”
[Secret-Keeper, Bolin Elgar (Chamber-master) is undergoing a Spirituality check.]
[Spirituality: 78/…]
As Siles expected, Elgar’s Spirituality was indeed remarkably high. Furthermore, the options appearing before Siles weren’t few, numbering five or six. Siles discovered with slight astonishment that one of them was even a “97.”
Without a second thought, he selected 97 directly.
[Spirituality: 78/97, Critical Failure.]
[Facing the power of a deity is not a good choice unless you are the darling of fate. And what of this Chamber-master who endured alone in the dark for fourteen years? He clearly failed to comprehend the revelation brought to him by fate. An excessively high Spirituality can become a curse; this is true.]
Siles interpreted these explanations of the dice with a hint of surprise and confusion.
Not far away, Bolin Elgar lifted his head blankly, gazing at the drawing on the ceiling with an infatuated and devout look. After a brief pause, he suddenly uttered, “My Lord… I understand… your thoughts.”
He stood up, a dazed smile and a look of joy filling his eyes. Upon passing by Siles, he cast a glance filled with an inexplicable meaning.
He murmured in a daze, “They are one and the same after all… It was so in the past, and shall be so in the end!”
Siles froze slightly, not understanding what this sentence actually implied. It seemed to be merely Elgar’s crazed ravings in his delirium, yet carried a distinct sort of implication.
He was about to question him, but Elgar had already thrown himself into the meat grinder.
“My Lord! I shall plunge into your embrace… ah!” Bolin Elgar screamed in agony, but the sound quickly vanished into the roaring din of the meat grinder.
Fanatical believers would ultimately be consumed by their own madness.
Siles froze for a moment, then turned his gaze over. Is everything considered over now? he wondered.
Right at this moment, he suddenly glimpsed what appeared to be a silhouette standing at the kitchen entrance. He subconsciously looked over, yet only caught a flash of slightly long, ash-white hair vanishing from his field of vision like an illusion.
The shifting wind seemed to carry the low, soft chuckle of a man.
Siles furrowed his brows slightly. Did someone witness the scene of him performing that check for Elgar just now?
He had no time to think further.
Following Elgar’s suicide, that blood-red mist also dissipated. Siles caught sight of the strange man on the ceiling closing his eyes, seemingly sinking back into slumber.
But when Siles looked up at it, he discovered that the man wearing the chef’s hat on the drawing merely gazed quietly at the operation of the entire world just as usual, as if that greed, that satisfaction, and that bloodthirsty craving were entirely Siles’s hallucinations.
Screams erupted in succession from the surroundings. The chefs, servants, and those newly awakened believers let out terrified, shocked cries as if they knew nothing of what had happened.
Siles’s companions also gradually came to. Detective Jon removed the bracelet from his body and stood up, surveying the surroundings before looking toward Siles. He said, “Thank you, Professor Noel. I ought to thank myself for placing my trust in you.”
Angela coughed, but couldn’t help but laugh out loud. Beside her, Dorothea let out a sigh, murmuring in a low voice, “How am I supposed to explain the issue with those cakes to Grandfather…”
Siles’s gaze swept over them, confirming they were safe and sound, and then noticed Edward Bellow still lying unconscious on the ground. His heart tightened, and he quickly walked over to confirm Edward’s condition.
Only after verifying that Edward had merely suffered a minor, non-fatal injury to his chest did Siles breathe a sigh of relief.
A chaotic rush of footsteps echoed from outside the door. Dominic, along with some other Awakeners Siles didn’t recognize and several soldiers clad in armor, filed into the room.
They quickly took control of the scene, guiding some of the injured parties outside.
Siles settled his companions, then walked briskly to Dominic’s side, asking in a low voice, “Did you encounter anyone when you came over?” He paused. “A man with ash-white hair.”
“A man?” Dominic said with slight surprise. “I’m sorry, Professor, we didn’t spot any strangers when we came over.” He paused, then lowered his voice. “The banquet over there is still ongoing, but…
“After you resolved things on this end, those foods… the desserts, beverages, and meat… revealed their true forms. Right now, that group of nobles, along with many residents outside, are vomiting their guts out in disgust…”
Siles displayed a subtle expression.
Someone called out Dominic’s name loudly.
“Coming!” Dominic responded in a loud voice, then said hurriedly to Siles, “Whatever the case, Professor Noel, you’ve helped us tremendously this time. We’ll chat about the rest later; I’ll brief you on the investigation’s progress.”
With that, he marched away with large strides.
Siles walked slowly to the kitchen entrance, lost in thought, then turned around to gaze at the chaotic scene inside. A moment later, he murmured in a low voice: “Did you see it? That check.”
He thought of that man’s soft chuckle, and let out a gentle sigh in his heart.
…It seemed he had indeed seen it.
