Chapter 66
Three shadows glided through the night road illuminated by streetlights. In the stillness, the sound of footsteps echoed distinctly, thud-thud.
Leading the procession was Bennett. He moved forward with utmost caution, determined to avoid any encounters with fanatics—he intended to dodge potential conflicts at all costs.
After confirming that no one was lurking around the corner, he walked closely along the wall. With Bennett at the front, Niolle and Tara trailed behind him.
Bennett’s extreme vigilance stemmed from his belief that a battle in their current state would spell disaster, especially considering that Niolle and Tara were still reeling from shock.
Tara scanned the surroundings with gleaming eyes, as if in search of prey, while Niolle kept her head low, trying to gauge the reactions of Tara and Bennett.
Although both had sufficiently shaken off the mental shock to move, the way they dealt with their trauma was curiously different, making them seem rather… twisted. Not physically, but mentally.
In Tara’s eyes flickered the flames of the mansion. Rage, pain, resentment. She felt an intense desire to take vengeance on the fanatics immediately.
In Niolle’s eyes lingered the shadows of the mansion. Guilt, regret, obsession. She still regretted her decisions and longed for redemption.
In dangerous situations, emotions must be suppressed. This was what Bennett believed. When swayed by feelings, people tend to cling to slim chances—much like his desperate attempts to restore his sister’s body.
As they approached Carter Street, more people began to appear. Even though it was late at night, some folks wandered drunkenly, while others were roused by the fire and chaos at Abraham’s mansion.
“We will… pass as inconspicuously as possible. Avoid the light, stick to the shadows. We can’t leave any eyewitnesses,” he instructed.
“…But Abraham is already dead. Do you really think those bastards will still chase us?” Tara countered.
“If it were me, I’d be on their tails,” Bennett replied grimly.
Why had the Order of the Silver Twilight killed Abraham? They had been quite courteous, even sending a letter spelling it out: a demand for him to cease his research. They desired nothing less than to halt Abraham’s investigations.
His documents had vanished along with the mansion, swallowed by something the fanatics had summoned at the last moment. However, there would surely be suspicion. What if… the trio that escaped the mansion happened to possess Abraham’s research materials?
Thus, if they harbored even a flicker of doubt, they would surely attempt to eliminate them to tie up any loose ends.
At this, Tara gasped faintly, then spoke, “…We actually know where the remaining research materials are located.”
Following Abraham’s lead, they had explored the Forbidden Stacks at Miskatonic University, where a copy of his research documents lay hidden in the vault; the last legacy of the old scholar that the Order of the Silver Twilight desperately sought to erase.
“We still don’t know why they’re so intent on obstructing the research… but the key takeaway is that the fanatics have plenty of motivation to chase us. Let’s move,” she declared.
“…Right,” Niolle agreed.
Shadows danced across the darkness. The number of people gradually increased, as did the count of illuminated street lamps. Moreover, among the crowd, white hoods were sporadically spotted.
Bennett paused at a wall, raising his hand.
Ahead of them was a fanatic, leaning against a lamppost as if keeping watch. The fanatic surveyed the area, oblivious to the creeping shadows around him, glaring intensely at passersby.
Niolle fidgeted nervously, signaling, Let me handle this. Just give me a chance. However, Bennett firmly shook his head. Even Tara, who seemed poised to spring into action, was subdued.
“Stay put for a moment. Icicle,” Bennett murmured.
As he incanted the spell, a sharp icicle grew from the inside of his sleeve. He clasped it tightly while moving stealthily.
Bennett concealed himself behind the shadow of a wobbling drunkard, quietly closing the distance. When he got close enough to the fanatic, not too quick nor too slow, he struck.
Shunk!
“Grrr…!”
He pierced the fanatic’s lung with a swift thrust. Simultaneously, he clutched the fanatic’s throat with his left hand, injecting mana in a heartbeat. Crack! Something snapped, and the light quickly drained from the fanatic’s eyes.
Bennett maneuvered the fanatic’s body into a slumped position against the lamppost, giving the appearance of a person resting. He adjusted the clothing to hide the icicle’s wound, creating the semblance of a temporarily snoozing body.
Bennett gestured. Tara and Niolle stepped away from the wall, trailing him. Niolle let out a sigh of relief, as if relieved that Bennett had remained safe, and she inspected him anxiously.
Meanwhile, Tara’s gaze fixated on the fanatic’s corpse. She leaned over, examining the expression on its face, seemingly wanting to witness the agony it had endured.
“Why did you use the icicle? To make it more painful?” she asked.
Breaking the neck would have sufficed. Imbuing her question with that implication, Bennett replied simply.
“I was planning to freeze him from the inside if needed. Even if the spell gets interrupted, sometimes the magic still activates. So I was just being more cautious. Besides, the magic they use is… bizarre and doesn’t follow our understanding of the arcane,” he explained.
“…I get it now,” Tara responded.
Leaving a cold corpse behind, the trio entered Carter Street.
===============================================================
Carter Street was bustling with various shops: restaurants, clothing stores, hardware shops. Being a hub of transactions, many buildings remained lit late into the night, with shadows of people peering out of brightly illuminated windows.
Fanatics in white hoods were also frequently spotted. To avoid being caught, they needed to be extra cautious with their movements.
Niolle noticed a sign on the street, pointed out the location of No. 201, and stepped ahead, as if to express that she would handle it.
Utilizing her keen eyesight, she moved in unpredictable patterns, scaling building exteriors via drainpipes, leaping from rooftop to rooftop, sometimes hiding amidst bushes or narrow alleyways.
When they were about three blocks away from their destination…
“…!”
Niolle pointed to a police car parked along the roadside. An officer, gun holstered, was scanning the area outside his vehicle. Having picked up some basic knowledge while living with Abraham, she recognized them as the city’s guardians maintaining law and order.
The fanatics had grotesquely killed Abraham and set fire to the mansion, a heinous crime indeed. Thus, seeking help from the police might smooth things over.
They could potentially gain protection. Cooperation might even lead to a chance at uprooting the Order of the Silver Twilight entirely—if only they could salvage something from this situation of being hunted after losing their base and Abraham.
If she could just correct her blunder…
“Wait, Niolle…!”
Ignoring Bennett’s protests, Niolle dashed toward the police to borrow a notebook and pen, intending to testify against the fanatics’ foul actions.
As the short-haired girl rushed over, the officer squinted, shifting into a very clinical tone.
“What’s going on at this late hour? You look quite… distressed, Miss.”
“…”
“It seems you’re speechless. And you have brown hair… hmm…”
He seemed to be assessing her description. Right then, she should have sensed something amiss.
The officer smacked his lips, then drew his gun.
Niolle’s mind blanked. The gun’s barrel was directed at her; his finger was poised on the trigger. Upon reflection, Abraham’s mansion had been disturbingly close to the police station.
Despite the uproar, the police had not shown their faces until the mansion was engulfed in flames. And before that, there was the mysterious dead cat, ominous threat letters, and those shadowy figures surveilling the mansion…
If Abraham wasn’t an utter fool, he’d have reported this to the police long ago. Yet, they never once witnessed any police action. Public authorities were clearly in cahoots with the Order of the Silver Twilight.
Bang—!
Niolle squeezed her eyes shut. Yet, there was no expected shock or pain. Curiously, she cracked her eyelids open.
“…I told you to wait.”
In front of her stood Bennett, unexpectedly.
Slash—!
With a swift motion, Bennett drew his sword and sliced through the police officer’s throat. The officer’s face was frozen in shock before he collapsed, blood pouring from the wound.
As Niolle turned to express her gratitude, she noticed blood seeping from Bennett’s left shoulder. Bright red poured down his arm, evidence that he had been shot while trying to shield her.
“…Ugh, ah.”
“Next time, don’t rush off on your own.”
Bennett struggled to appear composed as he spoke. But the furrow in his brow and the cold sweat trickling down his cheek told a different tale. The trembling of his left arm clearly indicated the pain he was grappling with.
While Niolle quivered with guilt, Tara peered into the police car, tending to Bennett’s wound.
“Heal… Ah. There’s another person inside the vehicle? Bennett, let’s eliminate him.”
Inside the car, a young man trembled in fear, clutching a radio.
“R-Response, response, over. H-Head Sergeant Paul has been, been decapitated here…!”
Tara concentrated mana into her fist. If she swung, she could reduce the young man’s head—and the window—to smithereens. At that moment, Bennett intervened.
“Why?”
“Not every officer is aligned with the Order of the Silver Twilight. Sure, the dead guy was, but the one inside wears a cross around his neck. That indicates a different religion.”
“Yet, he was with a scumbag assisting the Order, right? He bears some responsibility. He deserves punishment.”
Bennett locked eyes with Tara, whose blind fury was ablaze. She easily discussed killing; normally, Niolle would have intervened, but she was too entrenched in her guilt.
Leaving a witness was not an option. Given that, eliminating the young man appeared to be the safer route.
However, Bennett sensed that it shouldn’t be done. He had already killed many; it wasn’t as if he suddenly wanted to play the good guy. Rather…
He feared that killing this young man would twist Tara’s heart greatly.
“…The police shot after noticing Niolle’s description. This means our details have already circulated. Even if we kill him, his body will soon be found. We don’t need to shed additional blood.”
“Why are you acting so out of character?” she questioned.
“Out of character, you say… I’m uncertain whose character you refer to. Let’s move. Given the commotion, we must secure supplies at our secret hideout and regroup. Time is of the essence.”
“Haah…”
“…”
The group left the terrified young man behind, heading to the secret hideout. After killing a police officer on Carter Street, it was only a matter of time before the noose tightened around them. They intended to swiftly gather supplies and make an exit.
“This is…”
“Quite literally, a ‘secret’ hideout.”
The secret facility, positioned on the second floor of the East Shopping Mall and set up by the investigator, was surprisingly fortified. Magic was layered in multiple levels, completely concealing it. Had it not been mentioned in the report, they might never have suspected the hideout’s existence within the mall.
It appeared the investigator had already completed the exception for the three of them. The hideout revealed itself, allowing the group entry.
Two murders had taken place on Carter Street. The police were pursuing the case with unusual zeal. However, despite scouring even the city’s sewers, the trio of murderers remained elusive.
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