Elsewhere.
After leaving No. 11 Yadin Street, the "Hunter" strolled leisurely into a commercial street in Le Marché du Quartier du Gentleman. Unlike the rest of the city, which had already fallen into quiet slumber, this street was still brightly lit and bustling with activity.
The Hunter wandered along, eating and drinking as he pleased, before stepping into a bar. He ordered a few bottles of liquor and retreated into a private room. Pulling out a sheet of paper, he quickly scribbled down a few lines, then summoned a winged, big-headed messenger. Along with the letter, he handed over three bottles of alcohol.
"Deliver this to Tony Twain. The liquor is your payment."
The oversized-headed messenger immediately popped open a bottle, inhaled deeply, and sucked the entire contents into its mouth. With the remaining two bottles tucked under its arms and the letter in its hand, it wobbled off into the spirit world.
"The Demoness Sect and the Iron and Blood Cross Order—they all showed up at once. Isn't that wonderful?"
"Yes…truly wonderful."
Suddenly, another voice rang out inside the private room. The Hunter's heart lurched, and without hesitation, he prepared to flee.
But before he could move, a figure in blood-red armour materialised before him. Its eyes blazed with madness, like those of a ravenous beast, its entire body radiating an aura of terrifying danger.
"You are—"
BOOM!!!
The next instant, the entire bar erupted in a deafening explosion. It collapsed into rubble, taking several neighbouring buildings down with it. Passersby caught in the blast wave were torn apart, buried, or burned alive, leaving countless dead and wounded.
In a single moment, that street became a living hell.
———
Edward, of course, knew nothing of what had transpired in Le Marché du Quartier du Gentleman.
After the Hunter left, he chose to stay inside the house, waiting in peace. He waited the entire night.
When dawn finally broke the next morning, Edward heard the newsboy outside hawking papers:
"Gas explosion on Le Marché du Quartier du Gentleman's commercial street! So far, forty-five dead!"
Edward frowned, flashed out to intercept the boy, bought a copy with ten coins, and returned to the small villa.
The report was sparse: around 9:30 p.m. last night, an explosion had occurred in a bar on the Le Marché du Quartier du Gentleman's main street. The bar and several nearby buildings collapsed, leaving forty-five dead and nearly a hundred injured. The official explanation given was "improper handling of gas."
Such a convenient excuse—one that could cover up just about any supernatural incidents under the sun. Right, Fuyuki City?
"Could the explosion site have been one of the locations where 'Intis' hid a brass staff? Did that Witch already make her move last night?"
Edward's fingers tightened around the newspaper. He didn't feel much sympathy for strangers, but such blatant disregard for the lives of ordinary people filled him with disgust.
Half an hour later, a ripple of spirituality stirred—it was the Twilight Hermit Order's cross, once again resonating.
Edward quickly stepped into the washroom, retraced four steps, and entered the Sefirah Castle. Drawing out the cross, he infused it with spirituality, seamlessly arriving once more in the Corpse Cathedral.
This time, besides Intis, three others were already present. Judging from their positions, they were likely Miss Witch, Mr. Coward, and Mr. Wisdom.
"What's going on, Mr. Intis?"
"Yes, why summon us in such haste?"
"Why do I get the feeling these gatherings have turned into Mr. Intis' personal meetings—called whenever he pleases?"
After everyone had spoken, Intis said simply, "The Hunter is dead."
"???"
The ossuary-like church fell into silence.
Edward froze, instantly connecting it with the "gas explosion" he'd read about.
The Hunter had come to him around nine o'clock last night. The explosion happened around half past nine. Which meant—it was highly likely that the Hunter had died right after leaving him.
But how?
If the Hunter had been stationed at a hidden site like Edward, then being killed by the Demoness of Catastrophe was plausible. But the man had been wandering around—how could he have been found?
Could the Witches somehow locate the brass rods themselves? That didn't make sense.
Or had the Hunter stumbled across another member's position, sparking a conflict that ended in his death?
Edward had to admit, though the Hunter's mouth was always full of taunts and provocation, at least up to this point, he had never wronged Edward. Sometimes, Edward even found him amusing.
The Witch was the first to break the silence. "You're not joking, are you, Mr. Intis?"
"How…did he die?" The Coward's tone was thick with worry.
"I don't know," Intis replied.
Wisdom spoke in a muffled voice. "Then what did you call us here for? Just to announce the Hunter's death?"
"No. I wanted to warn you. I've discovered that aside from Krismona, there are others—forces and individuals alike—who also have their eyes on those items."
Edward asked, "So?"
"So, if you run into enemies in the coming days, you might not be able to count on help arriving in time."
The Coward immediately snapped, his voice sharp with anger. "That's not what you promised us before!"
"I'm sorry, Mr. Coward. I never wanted things to turn out this way."
"Then I'm out."
Intis was silent for a few moments, then said, "I can add an extra share of payment, on top of the original agreement, as compensation."
"I don't care. I'm done!"
With that, the Coward's figure vanished from the ossuary-like church.
"What about you?" Intis looked at the remaining three.
Edward raised his hand. "I'll keep at it for a while longer."
The Witch chuckled seductively. "Then I'll stay as well. Wealth and danger always walk hand in hand, don't they?"
"So will I," Wisdom finally said.
Edward then asked, "What about the site the Coward was originally guarding? What happens with that now?"
Intis swept his gaze over the three of them, answering calmly, "…I'll find someone else to fill the gap. As for the rest, I'll have to trouble the three of you."
———
In Trier, on the outskirts of Avenue du Boulevard, stood a secluded wooden cabin. It was home to a seventy-year-old man. Supposedly, his ancestors had once been wealthy landowners—the surrounding fields and houses for several hundred meters in all directions had belonged to his family. But generation by generation, the fortune dwindled, until only this original homestead remained.
The old man sat by the fireplace, wrapped in a blanket, rocking gently in a chair with his eyes closed.
Suddenly, he opened them—eyes far too sharp for someone of his years. He leapt up from the chair, cast off the blanket, seized a cane, and strode out the door.
Yet the moment he stepped outside, he reverted to a frail, hunched elder with faltering steps.
He hobbled along the path, greeting neighbours with kindly smiles and warm waves whenever he passed them. But beneath his mask of friendliness seethed a storm of resentment:
I never should've trusted Intis' lies! This whole "commission" could well be a trap, a scheme to wipe out the Twilight Hermit Order in one stroke! Damn it, what is the Leader thinking? If everyone dies, how can one Intis alone steer the trend of the times?
Just then, he heard footsteps closing in from every direction. He lifted his head. To his shock, it was all the neighbours he had passed on the way—somehow, they had followed him here.
"You…need something from me?"
They all stopped in unison. Each wore the same strange smile. Then, as though rehearsed, they reached into their pockets, pulled out translucent monocles, and fixed them over their right eyes.
"Found you…descendant of Jacobs."
The old man—no, the "Coward"—trembled violently, pupils shrinking to pinpoints.
"Amon?!!"
———
No. 11 Yadin Street.
Edward opened his eyes while still seated on the toilet. Out of habit, he pressed the flush before remembering he was the only one in the house—there was no need for the pretence.
Uh…so why did I bother going into the washroom to log into the Sefirah Castle?
Is the washroom the true divine kingdom of the Fool? Must be some subconscious pull from the Law of Beyonder Characteristics convergence.
He gave a self-deprecating chuckle, but his mind quickly returned to the Hunter's death. His instincts told him things weren't nearly as simple as they appeared.
Wait. That was it—the Hunter had died too quietly.
According to Intis, the enemy pursuing the brass rods was a Demoness of Catastrophe capable of unleashing Sequence 1-level power. That was why Intis only wanted them to hold out for a while—delay the enemy until reinforcements could arrive.
But from everyone's reaction at the meeting, it was obvious they hadn't known anything until after the fact. Which meant the Hunter hadn't even managed to send a signal for help before dying.
Either he was an idiot, or the gap in power was so overwhelming that he had been slain instantly.
Edward believed the latter. Which meant the others could easily be wiped out as well. In other words, this plan of "stalling for time until rescue" was fundamentally unworkable.
If Intis knew Krismona's true strength, how could he not foresee this outcome? Then why issue the commission, asking others to guard the brass rods for him?
Was it simply desperation? A gamble on slim hope? Or…had this all been part of his design from the beginning?
And just now, Intis had added that aside from Krismona, other forces and individuals were also eyeing the rods. That made the whole "buying time" strategy even more idiotic!
Moreover, why had all of these powers moved within the same few days? As if they had agreed on it beforehand.
Coincidence?
In the face of the Twilight Hermit Order, calling it "coincidence" was laughable. More likely, it was orchestrated by that Russian priest.
There was definitely some deeper plot at work here.
So, should he simply return the brass rods and wash his hands of the commission?
That…left a bad taste in his mouth.
With his method of praying to himself and answering himself, Edward was far safer than the others. But the problem was, it consumed an enormous amount of spirituality.
He couldn't maintain that state indefinitely.
That was why, until now, he had only used it when he knew exactly where he was going and what he needed to do.
But now, the enemy's arrival was completely unpredictable. If he started too early and exhausted his spirituality, only for them to show up afterwards, he'd be utterly doomed.
Tsk.
There was only one option left.
Edward flicked a coin into the air—
Madman to the Right.
———
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