AN: Enjoy
Inside Ambassador Bakarland's manor near the Backlund Embassy, the dining room exuded a bright and luxurious atmosphere.
A massive crystal chandelier hung from the painted ceiling. The long mahogany dining table was polished to a mirror finish and surrounded by tall velvet-cushioned chairs.
Large windows let the sunlight pour in, fully illuminating the detailed oil paintings that decorated the pale walls.
Bakerland Jean Madan, a man with a thin face and slight stubble, sat at the head of the table having his breakfast.
In front of him was a typical morning spread straight from the Intis capital, Trier. There were flaky golden croissants, a basket of freshly baked bread, a small porcelain pot of sweet berry jam, and a slice of rich, buttery quiche. A steaming cup of dark fragrant coffee sat on a silver saucer right next to his plate.
A man with dark curly hair and deep bluish-gray eyes walked into the room. He had a prominent nose bridge, a notably thin face, and wore a neatly tailored dark double-breasted suit. It was Rosago. He stepped forward with a practiced grace and bowed respectfully toward Bakarland.
"Good morning, Lord Ambassador," Rosago said quietly as he straightened his posture.
"Good morning to you as well," Bakarland replied. He picked up a golden croissant and took a slow bite. He chewed, swallowed, and wiped his fingers on a white linen napkin. "What do you want to report, Rosago?"
"It seems my divination was indeed correct," Rosago reported, his voice flat and devoid of emotion.
Bakarland felt a brief surge of satisfaction. "Did you capture Ian Wright?"
"No," Rosago said calmly. "But, someone did come to check on Zreal's dead body. Unfortunately, it was just a private detective that Ian had likely commissioned."
Bakarland paused and raised his eyes to meet Rosago's gaze. "A mere private detective? I assume you dealt with him."
"I attempted to turn him into a marionette," Rosago explained. "But my inexperience with my newly advanced powers gave him enough time to use some teleportation ability to escape right before my control was complete."
"Troublesome," Bakarland muttered. He frowned and dropped the rest of his pastry back onto his plate, his morning appetite suddenly gone. He picked up his cup of dark coffee and took a slow sip. "Then take him out. I want him gone by tonight."
He absolutely needed to find Helmosuin's manuscript and smuggle it out of the Loen Kingdom without being detected by MI9. That was exactly why he had to cut out any loose ends that came up.
'I cannot let a random detective ruin my plans,' Bakarland thought.
"As you wish," Rosago replied. He offered another polite bow and quietly left the dining room.
Moments later, a subordinate approached Rosago in the hallway and offered a crisp salute. The man wore a charcoal-grey trench coat that completely hid his build, along with a bowler hat. His name was Julian, a Secret Order mole who successfully infiltrated the Loen Kingdom's MI9 and climbed the ranks to become a Sequence 6 Judge.
"What is it?" Rosago asked as he stopped walking and crossed his arms. "Why did you leave your post?"
"I have critical information, sir," Julian whispered and glanced over his shoulder to check the empty hallway. "I traveled here as fast as I could without leaving any suspicious tracks."
Rosago furrowed his brows. "What is so important that you could not just send a secret telegram?"
Julian stepped closer. "It is incredibly urgent, sir. May I set up a Jurisdiction here?"
Rosago nodded and took a half step back to give the man space as well as to prepare if it turns out to be an ambush.
Julian straightened his posture and spoke with Authority. "Eavesdropping is prohibited here."
An invisible rule instantly settled over the hallway. The ambient sounds of the manor faded away and completely sealed their conversation from the outside world.
"I came to deliver the intelligence personally,
"During the last banquet, Duke Pallas Negan was assassinated."
Hearing this Rosago's eyes widened, "Are you sure?"
Julian nodded, "Yes sir, I have confirmed it to be the case. The King and the House of the Lords are desperately trying to stop the information from leaking out."
A slow smile spread across Rosago's face. "Tell that to Ambassador Bakerland. He will want to send this information back to Intis immediately."
"Understood," Julian said as he adjusted his bowler hat. "Where are you going?"
"I have a cockroach to hunt," Rosago replied and started to walk down the hallway. "I will be back shortly."
As Rosago walked away, the flesh on his face began to squirm. Thousands of maggots seemed to writhe just beneath his skin. A moment later, his facial bones shifted. His features melted away into a weary face with pale skin and a small neatly trimmed goatee.
He adjusted his coat and pulled a silver pendant from his inner pocket. He held the chain with his left hand and let the heavy crystal dangle just above his palm. He closed his eyes, calmed his spirituality, and easily slipped into a state of Cogitation.
He repeated a single statement in his mind seven times.
'There is a fatal degree of danger in hunting the detective.'
He opened his eyes and looked down. The pendant spun in a slow clockwise circle. A positive response. This meant the overall threat level was low.
'The danger is low, but I cannot trust divination blindly.'
As he walked out of the front door, he picked up a sturdy stick from the edge of the nearby garden to act as a dowsing rod. He then pulled out a scrap of cloth stained with dried blood, which he collected when he punched the detective in the chest and forced him to cough up blood.
To establish a strong mystical connection, he wrapped the silver chain of his pendant around the top of the stick and pressed the bloody cloth against the wood. He held the stick out in front of him with a loose grip, closed his eyes, and easily entered a state of Cogitation again. He silently chanted his divination statement seven times.
'The detective's current location.'
He opened his eyes and relaxed his hand. The stick immediately tilted forward and created an invisible tug against his palm. Following the persistent pull of the wood, Rosago smiled and started walking.
After walking for a short distance, he hailed a carriage and climbed inside. He told the driver to follow his instructions on where to go. As they rode through the streets, Rosago called out directions based purely on the pull of his dowsing rod.
Some time later, he arrived at the East Borough Warehouse District. Rosago got out of the carriage, handed the driver his payment, and surveyed the area.
It was roughly 10am in the morning. All around him, workers were busy hauling materials from transport carriages over to the nearby warehouses.
Rosago followed the stick's tugging to a warehouse with closed doors. The undisturbed dirt outside told him nobody used the place recently. He looked up and jumped, reaching the roof in a single bound. He spotted an open skylight, dropped inside, and looked around.
Wooden boxes filled the warehouse. He pushed one box and found it empty. He moved another one and found it empty as well. This was a great place for an ambush.
A smirk appeared on his face. From their last fight, he knew the detective was at a lower Sequence than him. He could not figure out exactly which Pathway the man followed, but he had a strong suspicion.
'He is most likely an Apprentice Pathway Beyonder,'
In his experience, traps set by lower-Sequence Beyonders were practically useless against someone of a higher Sequence. They simply lacked the mystical power to close the qualitative gap between ranks.
He activated his Spirit Body Threads manipulation and scanned the area. His vision shifted as he could now look into the spirit world. Dark illusory threads floated in the air, connecting every living creature to the void.
Within his five-meter range, he saw a few wispy black lines sprouting from beneath the nearby wooden crates. They belonged to scurrying rats and hidden spiders. He swept his gaze across the rest of his immediate surroundings, searching for the dense cluster of threads that would belong to a human being.
Suddenly, something hit him square in the back. He spun around and looked down, furrowing his brows at the object on the floor. A wooden court gavel lay on the ground. Someone had thrown it at him. He quickly searched the shadows to see where the attack came from.
Another gavel flew out from a different direction. He slapped it away and grew vigilant.
Next the gavel shot out from the shadows between the stacked crates. Rosago twisted his body with agility and dodged the spinning weapon. The gavel struck a wooden box and instantly vanished. A split second later, it hurtled back towards him from a slightly different angle and stretched into a heavy staff.
Rosago raised his makeshift dowsing rod to deflect the strike. The wood splintered in his grip, but he managed to parry the heavy blow. He narrowed his eyes and watched the weapon vanish into thin air again.
'Where is he hiding?'
Rosago quickly tracked the angle of the disappearing staff. His gaze landed on a dense cluster of tall crates near the back wall. He tossed the broken stick aside and bolted straight toward the shadows.
When Rosago reached the crates, a massive shadow loomed over him. A giant mallet dropped straight down from the top of the crates. Rosago quickly flicked a paper figurine from his fingers. The heavy mallet slammed down, shredding the substitute into harmless paper scraps.
The real Rosago materialized several meters away, completely unharmed. The giant mallet shattered the ground and vanished just like the previous forms.
Standing nearby was a man with brown eyes and slightly long black hair. The weapon had already returned to its original form, and a simple wooden gavel twirled in his hand with expert dexterity.
"How did you figure out I wasn't just a random inspector?" Rosago asked with a chuckle.
The detective only raised an eyebrow as if it were an obvious question.
Rosago let out a sheepish smile. "Well, I wasn't trying that hard anyway."
The flesh on Rosago's face began to squirm as the weary, goateed disguise melted away. His features shifted back to their true form, and he looked closer at the detective.
"It is indeed you. What is your name, detective?" Rosago asked. He took a few steps forward, wishing to close the distance.
"Detective Sherlock Moriarty. What is your name?" Sherlock introduced himself as he took a couple of steps back.
Rosago took another step toward the detective. "It is nice to meet you, Sherlock. My name is Rosago." He looked at the wooden tool in Sherlock's hand. "Quite the versatile weapon you have there."
When Rosago reached 5 meters distance, he focused his vision and tried to seize the Spirit Body Threads of the detective. He looked closely and initially thought the man had no threads at all. Then he noticed the truth. The threads existed, but they were completely concealed by a thick shroud of darkness.
"You are quite resourceful. How did you figure out how to stop the Spirit Body Thread ability?" Rosago asked with genuine curiosity. A moment later, he shook his head. "It does not matter. I will find out when you are dead."
Both men surged forward.
Rosago snapped his fingers and fired a quick barrage of invisible Air Bullets. Sherlock anticipated the attack. He sidestepped the first shot and quickly morphed his gavel into a thick staff, spinning it in front of him to deflect the remaining air projectiles. The compressed air hit the wood with a loud cracking sound.
As soon as the barrage stopped, Sherlock hurled the staff straight like a javelin.
Rosago easily leaned to the side with his enhanced agility. The weapon flew past his shoulder. He immediately focused his mind and gripped the thick layer of darkness covering the detective's Spirit Body Threads. The darkness felt like freezing mud. It heavily resisted his control, but he could slowly push through it.
'I just need to keep my focus on him,
'He will be completely paralyzed in five minutes.'
Sherlock felt a sudden, stiffness spreading through his ankles. He opened his right hand, and the staff vanished from the other side of the room. It instantly reappeared in his grip as a standard gavel. He rushed forward and swung at the Marionettist.
The handle of the gavel stretched out to emulate a heavy wooden staff. It struck Rosago hard across his forearms as he raised his guard.
Sherlock instantly pulled the weapon back and yanked it forward. He used the downward part of the gavel's head like a hook, catching Rosago by the neck to pull him closer for a follow-up strike.
Rosago pulled a small paper figurine from his pocket and flicked his wrist. The hooked gavel head pulled nothing but scattered paper scraps. The real Rosago reappeared three meters away.
The stiffness in Sherlock's legs crept up to his knees. His movements were getting sluggish. Rosago stood his ground, maintaining his distance and pouring all of his spirituality into securing the detective's threads.
Sherlock threw the gavel directly at Rosago's face.
Rosago prepared to dodge, but the weapon abruptly vanished mid-air. Sherlock summoned it into his left hand, transforming it into a hammer, and launched himself forward with the last burst of unhindered speed he could muster.
He swung the hammer in a upward arc.
The hammer smashed firmly into Rosago's jaw. The sharp impact rattled the Marionettist's brain and violently broke his concentration. The invisible grip on Sherlock's threads vanished.
Sherlock did not pause. He let go of the hammer and summoned it into his right hand, changing it into a long staff.
He swept the staff low across the ground. The heavy wood cracked violently against Rosago's shins. The blow swept his legs entirely out from under him, sending him falling backward.
Rosago panicked. He snapped his fingers to activate a Flaming Jump. A spark of scarlet fire ignited around his coat.
Sherlock jumped into the air, vanishing the staff and resummoning it with both hands. The weapon rapidly expanded, blocking out the warehouse lights as it turned into a giant mallet.
Before the flames could fully engulf the Marionettist, the giant mallet crashed down. It slammed directly into Rosago's chest and pinned him to the dirt floor.
A strange, heavy silence instantly fell over the warehouse.
---
Rosago blinked as the heavy pressure on his body vanished. He looked around and realized he was standing in a dimly lit courtroom surrounded by silent guillotines. He stood on a wooden podium. Across the room, Sherlock Moriarty stood on a matching podium.
Rosago gritted his teeth. He vaulted over the wooden railings of his stand and launched himself at the detective with a heavy punch.
His fist abruptly stopped an inch away from Sherlock's face.
Sherlock calmly reached up and swatted the frozen hand away. "Violence is strictly prohibited inside this Sealed Artifact's domain."
The moment Sherlock finished his sentence, Rosago blinked and found himself standing right back on his podium. He felt absolutely no fluctuation in his spirituality. The teleportation was instant.
Sherlock twirled the gavel in his hand and hit the air three times.
Tak! Tak! Tak!
The sound echoed loudly in the courtroom.
Pitch-black liquid appeared out of thin air as it took the shape of a massive figure. It loomed and stood directly to the left of Sherlock. It was a middle-aged gentleman wearing a black tailcoat and a white wig. It had a long, stern face, but its eyes and mouth were grotesquely sewn shut. It floated completely frozen in a rigid T-pose. A large golden scale hung from each of its outstretched hands. The chains dug grotesquely into its flesh. One scale hovered over Rosago's side of the room, and the other rested on Sherlock's side.
"The entity beside us is Judgeman," Sherlock explained while Rosago listened in silence. "I am the prosecution, and you are the defendant."
Before Rosago could say anything, Sherlock looked at the evil spirit and said, "Judgeman, please begin."
A booming hollow voice echoed in the courtroom through the Judgeman's sewn lips.
"Rosago. Charged as an accessory before the fact to the murder of Zreal Victor Lee on Tuesday, July 10, 1349, in Backlund, Loen Kingdom."
"What!" Rosago was clearly stunned as he gripped the railing.
Sherlock smiled at his reaction and said, "It represents blind justice. It knows everything about everyone in this room.
"But do not worry, it does not share that information with me. The verdict is decided solely on the arguments we present," Sherlock continued, fulfilling the mandatory drawback of his artifact.
He then raised his hand. A case file materialized in his grip. It was a packet of cream-colored paper folded lengthwise into thirds and tightly wrapped in a red ribbon.
"With the sole exception of this evidence," Sherlock added. "I will not tell you what evidence the artifact provided. Knowing that, you must present your argument to clear any suspicion. The Judgeman delivers the verdict according to the Penal Code."
"This is a very powerful artifact indeed," Rosago said as he stared at the towering figure in the white wig. "I think I recognize that person."
"You might have," Sherlock replied easily. "We both get one chance to make a statement. Make it count."
A heavy silence stretched across the courtroom.
"What happens if I am judged guilty?"
Sherlock smiled. "Unfortunately, I am not obligated to answer that question.
"But I will tell you this. You have three options for your plea. Silence, confession, or denial. After you speak, I will offer a rebuttal based on the evidence this artifact provides. Your goal is to dispel all doubt and earn a pronouncement of innocence from the Judgeman."
Sherlock leaned forward on his podium. "What is your rebuttal to the Judgeman's accusation?"
Rosago thought about his options.
'Everything depends on the evidence, huh. I have clearly removed any and all forms of involvement in the case.
'It is possible that he is bluffing to make me admit guilt or admit any involvement through association. I just need to deny all involvement.'
"I do not know what you are talking about," Rosago stated flatly. He chose denial.
"Are you sure?" Sherlock asked. "That is your official statement?"
Rosago paused in deep thought for a few seconds. "I am sure."
When Sherlock opened the file, it revealed a direct record of the murderer's testimony, featuring his thumbprint at the bottom.
"During my investigation at the crime scene after our meeting, I uncovered clear links to the Zmanger Gang. I tracked the perpetrator to their leader, Meursault. Following his conviction in this court, Meursault sought to commute his sentence by turning state's evidence. He provided a sworn confession, explicitly naming you as the individual who issued the order to assassinate Zreal Victor Lee."
Sherlock slapped the podium railing hard with both hands and pointed at Rosago. "Your claim of ignorance is a complete lie."
He looked at the floating Judgemen and said, "I rest my case."
Rosago let out a quiet sigh. "I see." He looked over at the detective. "There was no way to win from the beginning, was there?"
"Unfortunately not,
"The evidence was simply too damning."
The Judgeman remained perfectly still. Only the golden scales hanging from it's arms shifted. The scale on Sherlock's side lifted high into the air. The scale on Rosago's side dropped heavily.
"The evidence is accepted," the Judgeman's hollow voice echoed across the dark room. "According to the Accessories and Abettors Act of 1261, the defendant is found guilty as an accessory before the fact to murder. Under the law, the mandated sentence is Confiscation! Death Penalty!"
The surrounding courtroom dissolved back to normal, and both of them returned to the warehouse they were fighting in before.
The wooden gavel in Sherlock's hand suddenly burst into a blinding radiance. The wooden handle rapidly elongated as it completely changed its proportions. It shaped itself into a massive cruciform sword forged entirely of brilliant golden light! A black cross rested dead in the center of the glowing weapon.
This was the Executioner's Sword!
If this sword touched anyone inflicted with a guilty Verdict, it delivered Instant Death to the target!
"That was a really ingenious trap."
Sherlock gave a bow as if he were a stage magician. "Thank you for the compliment."
He then dropped into a fencing stance. Rosago clenched his fists. Both men stood perfectly still, facing each other.
---
"I was careless before. That is why you managed to hit me," Rosago said as he stared at the golden blade.
His spiritual senses screamed in his mind. 'It will be extremely fatal if I get hit by that.'
Rosago did not hesitate. He snapped his fingers and fired a rapid volley of Air Bullets. The compressed projectiles tore through the warehouse air and aimed straight for Sherlock's chest.
Sherlock did not even try to block. A moment before the bullets struck, his body tore apart into shredded pieces of paper. He had already swapped places with a Paper Figurine. The real Sherlock materialized a few meters to the left and lunged forward with the Executioner's Sword.
Rosago immediately reached out with his spirituality and gripped the thick shroud of darkness around the detective's Spirit Body Threads. He forcefully pulled on them.
A sudden wave of stiffness washed over Sherlock. His joints locked up and slowed his charge to a crawl. He knew he could not outmuscle a Sequence 5 in a battle of attrition. He needed to close the distance instantly.
Sherlock snapped his free hand and sparked a match from his pocket. Scarlet flames engulfed his body. He vanished into the fire just as Rosago fired another Air Bullet at his head.
Flames erupted directly behind the Marionettist. Sherlock leaped out of the fire with the massive golden sword raised high. He swung the weapon down in a vicious arc.
Rosago relied on his enhanced agility. His spine bent at an impossible angle. He twisted his torso out of the way just as the glowing blade sliced through the empty air beside his face. The sheer force of the swing shattered the wooden crates behind him.
Rosago quickly tossed a paper figurine of his own and snapped his fingers.
Sherlock reversed his grip and cleaved through the Marionettist, but the body instantly exploded into paper scraps. Rosago reappeared near the warehouse entrance. He kept a safe distance and focused entirely on securing Sherlock's threads. He just needed a little more time to completely paralyze the Magician.
Suddenly, a loud bang echoed through the warehouse. A bullet tore through the air and struck Rosago in the shoulder. The sharp pain instantly broke his concentration and released his grip on Sherlock's threads.
He looked over and saw two women standing a short distance away. They had seemingly just teleported into the room and were still holding hands. One of them was very short, about 152 centimeters in height, with soft facial features that made her appear young and immature. The other woman had slightly curly brown hair and pale blue eyes. She wore a common Loen-styled dress.
Sherlock paused his charge. He frowned and looked at them. "What are you both doing here?"
The short girl lowered her smoking gun while the brown-haired woman spoke up. "It seems like you were losing, detective. We are here to help."
Rosago quickly activated his Spirit Vision. He noticed a crucial detail. Unlike the detective's, the Spirit Body Threads of these two women were completely exposed. There was no thick darkness protecting them.
'I just need to make both of them my marionettes and keep dodging that glowing sword.'
Rosago ignored Sherlock and dashed straight toward the two women. He reached out with his spirituality and seized both of their Spirit Body Threads at once. The two women instantly stiffened as their movements became incredibly sluggish.
Sherlock rushed in to stop him. Rosago relied on his agility to evade the heavy swings of the Executioner's Sword while pouring his spirituality into the women's threads.
Then, the brown-haired woman did something unexpected. She bit off one of her bracelet gems and crushed it.
Blue lines crisscrossed around her physical body as a massive illusory door opened behind her.
But through his Spirit Vision, he could see something else. Her Spirit Body Threads suddenly turned a deep blood-red like the crimson moon.
The sudden change startled Rosago. He barely dodged a lethal slash from Sherlock. He quickly kicked the detective in the chest to create some distance and placed his full focus on the brown-haired woman.
Her physical body seemed fine, but her Spirit Body was actively creating a connection to an unknown location. Both women went through the illusory door slowly as they attempted to teleport away.
Determined to keep his new marionettes, Rosago manipulated her Spirit Body Threads and followed that crimson connection straight to its source.
He made contact!
A terrifying, maddening scream erupted directly into his mind!
Blood violently burst from Rosago's ears. The sheer magnitude of the voice completely shattered his mind in a fraction of a second! He stood frozen in place with his eyes wide and utterly blank!
Sherlock did not waste the opportunity. He lunged forward and plunged the massive Executioner's Sword straight through Rosago's chest.
The golden light flared as the verdict of Instant Death took effect in a matter of moments. The Marionettist collapsed lifelessly to the dirt floor.
---
"Shit!" Xio exclaimed as they tumbled out of the illusory door into an empty warehouse a safe distance away.
Fors scrambled to her feet as she looked over at her friend with wide eyes. "Are you alright?"
Xio pushed herself up from the ground and quickly dusted off her trousers. "Yeah, I am fine. What about you?"
Fors took a deep breath to steady her racing heart. "I am fine as well."
"That was absolutely terrifying," Xio muttered. She flicked open the cylinder of her revolver to check the chambers out of pure habit. "What should we do now?"
Both of them exchanged long glances. Fors was breathing heavily as she tried to calm her severely strained spirituality. They had just barely escaped becoming permanent human puppets to a Sequence 5 Beyonder.
Fors looked toward the direction they came from. "We should go back. He might still need our help."
Xio nodded in agreement. Fors reached out and firmly grasped Xio's hand. She focused her Apprentice powers once more, and started to phase through the walls of the warehouses.
They stepped through the last wall and reappeared inside the original warehouse.
Fors and Xio looked around the ruined room.
Sherlock Moriarty stood in the center of the dirt floor. The Executioner's Sword was completely gone. In his right hand, he casually held the ordinary looking wooden gavel.
At his feet lay the lifeless body of Rosago. The Marionettist stared up at the ceiling with wide eyes.
Both of them stiffened when the wooden gavel flew toward them at an insane speed. They were completely unprepared for the sudden attack.
The heavy weapon vanished into thin air right before it could strike one of them.
When Sherlock turned to look at them, they got the scare of their lives. The right half of Sherlock's face had completely warped. His skin was pale and rigid, and his right eye and the right side of his mouth were grotesque looking.
Sherlock let out a heavy breath, and his shoulders instantly slumped down. "It's you two. I thought you were someone else."
He looked at them with a tired expression. "I now see why my mentor told me to use this artifact only three times. The drawback puts me on a hair trigger. It is taking everything I have to suppress the strict prosecutor personality trying to take over my mind."
He closed his eyes and entered a state of Cogitation. Slowly, the gruesome face on the right side of his face melted away, and his normal features returned.
After fully restoring his appearance, he let out a deep sigh. "Using this thing twice in one day was a terrible idea."
Fors and Xio stood there in total silence. They did not know how to respond to what they just witnessed.
He glanced down at the corpse at his feet, then looked back at the two women. "Thank you for the help."
Fors blinked in surprise. Xio mirrored her exact reaction.
Seeing their clear confusion, Sherlock elaborated on what happened. "He tried to take control of your Spirit Body Threads. But blood suddenly burst from his ears and eyes. He was completely incapacitated."
"I just used my bracelet," Fors said as she pointed to her wrist. "It allows me to teleport somewhere else through the Spirit World." She coughed lightly into her hand, secretly feeling very happy that they actually managed to be useful in the fight.
"Maybe he accidentally peered at a powerful spirit creature while tracking our teleportation," Xio suggested with a thoughtful look.
"That is highly possible," Sherlock agreed.
Sherlock turned his attention back to the lifeless body. He kneeled down on the dirt floor and waited patiently. A few moments later, a glowing object seeped out of Rosago's corpse. Sherlock carefully picked up the newly formed Beyonder characteristic.
He had previously explained the concept of Beyonder characteristics to them during their raid on Capim's manor, so they knew exactly what he was doing.
The item Sherlock pulled from the body looked incredibly bizarre. It took the shape of a human eyeball. The white sclera was completely flooded with bulging red blood vessels. The pupil right in the center resembled a miniature crimson moon.
"What is this?" Sherlock asked out loud as his eyes widened in shock. "This characteristic seems to be heavily corrupted."
He examined it closely. "Whatever entity he looked at in the Spirit World, it was terrifying enough to permanently change the fundamental nature of his Beyonder characteristic."
He held the bloody eye up to the light. "I definitely cannot do a divination on this."
"Why not?" Fors asked as she stepped a bit closer to get a better look.
"Because whatever he saw was undeniably an entity powerful enough to be on par with a True God," Sherlock said with a grave tone.
Both of them exchanged nervous glances and gulped heavily.
Staring at the glowing crimson eye in his hand, Sherlock let out a defeated sigh. "As much as I wanted to avoid it, I think I have no choice but to get Mr. Fool involved in this mess."
Xio blinked out of confusion, 'Who is Mr. Fool?'
"Why did you want to avoid his help?" Fors asked with genuine curiosity.
Sherlock pocketed the strange eyeball. "Every time I ask for 'His' help, I feel like I'm a helpless child begging a strict adult to intervene on their behalf. It is slightly humiliating."
Suddenly, Fors's mind wandered. She vividly imagined a small, toddler-sized version of Sherlock Moriarty crying and tugging on her dress to ask for help. She quickly shook her head to toss that ridiculous image out of her mind.
She cleared her throat and spoke out loud. "We should probably leave this warehouse before the local workers come to check on here."
Sherlock agreed, and all three of them left, leaving the corpse of Rosago alone in the warehouse.
---
Back in Sherlock's apartment, Sherlock quickly prepared for the ritual.
Sherlock swept the messy coffee table clear to make room for a temporary altar. He carefully set up three plain candles and placed a few small vials of essential oils in their proper positions. Right in the middle of the setup, he set the bloody, corrupted eyeball that was once Rosago's Beyonder characteristic.
He stepped back, and respectfully lowered his head.
"The Fool that does not belong to this era..." Sherlock chanted in ancient Hermes, completing the necessary incantation to draw the deity's attention.
Xio and Fors watched the entire process closely from the scuffed sofa. Fors had already given Xio a brief explanation about Mr. Fool when they were resting in the empty warehouse, so Xio knew exactly who the detective was praying to.
Suddenly, a brilliant door of light opened right above the makeshift altar. A sudden flash of deep crimson light erupted from the center and completely consumed all three of them in an instant.
When they finally regained their senses, they were no longer standing in a cramped Backlund apartment.
They stood inside a towering, majestic ancient palace completely supported by massive stone pillars. A long bronze table stretched across the center of the room, surrounded by high-back chairs that bore mysterious constellation symbols. A thick, endless sea of gray fog swirled everywhere outside the grand structure.
Xio stared at the endless fog with wide eyes. Sherlock looked at them in clear surprise. He clearly did not expect the two women to be brought up here alongside him.
Sitting at the seat of honor at the very end of the bronze table was a mysterious figure. Just as Fors remembered from her previous visit, Mr. Fool wore a black trench coat with a yellow underlined hood pulled low over his face. There was nothing but swirling gray fog beneath the hood.
Sherlock stepped forward, offered a deep bow, and spoke respectfully. "Good morning, Mr. Fool."
Seeing his deep reverence, both Fors and Xio quickly followed suit and greeted the secret existence.
Mr. Fool let out a soft chuckle that resounded smoothly around the vast, empty space. "Good morning to you all as well... Hmm?"
"Interesting," Mr. Fool said.
Fors stiffened instantly as the hidden figure seemingly turned his gaze toward her. A profound sense of vulnerability washed over her.
She felt like every secret of hers is totally bare for 'Him' to see, as if no mysteries can possibly hide from 'His' gaze.
That terrifying feeling vanished a moment later. Before she could even ask what happened, Mr. Fool spoke again. "Your fate has changed."
Fors blinked in shock. Both Sherlock and Xio looked completely confused as well.
"Wh-what do you mean?" Fors asked with a slight stutter.
Mr. Fool chuckled once again and patiently explained the situation to her. "That bracelet you used."
Fors instinctively looked down at the silver bracelet resting on her wrist. She blinked in total disbelief. Instead of the two remaining gemstones being their usual dark green color, they had turned a deep, striking crimson, exactly like a blood moon.
"It was created by the Abraham family. They are an ancient family that controlled the Apprentice pathway in the Fourth Epoch," Mr. Fool explained calmly.
Fors instantly recognized the name. It was the exact family Miss Alisa mentioned her husband belonged to.
Mr. Fool continued his brief explanation. "That family suffers from a terrible curse. Their Angel went mad long ago. Because of this tragedy, the members of their bloodline hear terrifying ravings that drove their entire family into a steep decline. By using that item you triggered a spiritual indoctrination to the Abraham family. From this day forth, you will hear the mad scream of the Angel of the Abraham family every blood moon."
Fors gulped heavily. "Wh- What should I do..."
Both Sherlock and Xio looked deeply concerned for her well-being.
Mr. Fool simply chuckled. "Contact one of the surviving members of that family, named Dorian Gray Abraham, and tell him about your current situation. It will help you in the future. And remember, every full moon, pray to me by reciting my honorific name. I will protect you from the mad ravings."
He then instantly turned his attention away from the stunned author and looked directly at the detective. "Now Sherlock, as interesting as this was, why have you contacted me?"
Sherlock took a breath and explained the entire situation involving the Intis Ambassador and the assassination attempt.
"...Since I killed one of his best agents, I do not think he will let go of me so easily," Sherlock concluded. "I would like to use the blessing I gained from the previous gathering. I wish for Intis Ambassador Bakerland Jean Madan to not come after me anymore."
Mr. Fool shook his head lightly. "That will not be enough."
Sherlock instantly bowed again. "What do you need me to do?"
"I need you to go to the Intis Srenzo Restaurant and meet someone there," Mr. Fool said in a relaxed tone. "They will give you a task. Fulfill it, and the favor will be paid."
"How will I recognize them?" Sherlock asked.
Mr. Fool let out a quiet smile. "You will know."
The secret existence leaned back slightly in the high-back chair. "Is this your wish? To not be pursued by Bakerland Jean Madan anymore?"
Sherlock thought for a brief moment, then nodded firmly.
From under the yellow hood, Fors got the distinct impression that Mr. Fool was smiling warmly at them.
"Your wish is granted."
---
The next day, inside Fors's apartment.
The living room was quiet and comfortably set up for a lazy morning. A low coffee table sat in the center of the room, holding a few borrowed reference books and a jug of water. Sunlight streamed through the window that offered a distant view of the Tussock River.
Xio sat on the sofa, happily humming a cheerful tune as she stared at the parchment containing her Sequence formula for the nth time today.
Seeing her friend completely distracted by her new treasure, Fors could only sigh lazily. She took a slow sip of her morning tea and picked up the fresh newspaper resting on the table.
The moment she noticed the headline printed on the front page, she violently spit out her tea.
Foreign Intis Ambassador Bakerland Jean Madan Found Hanging in His Own Home!
Experts Speculate the Distinguished Gentleman Could Not Handle the Bitter Rejection of a Beautiful Lady!
Xio jumped slightly in her seat as the hot tea splashed across the wooden coffee table. She quickly grabbed a nearby napkin to wipe the droplets away from her precious parchment.
"What is wrong with you?" Xio asked. She carefully folded her Sequence formula and tucked it safely into her inner pocket.
Fors coughed violently. She pointed a trembling finger directly at the front page of the newspaper, completely unable to form a proper sentence.
Curious and slightly alarmed, Xio leaned over and pulled the damp paper from Fors's hands. Her eyes quickly scanned the bold headline.
Both Xio and Fors froze completely and exchanged wide-eyed glances with each other. They both had the exact same thought racing through their minds.
'Gods are terrifying, but secret existences are even more so!'
AN: Alright! This arc is done! What do you think of this arc? How was the battle between Sherlock and Rosago?
Next Arc is going to be Gehrman in the City of Generosity.
There is already TWO chapter ahead available on pat-reon, your support would truly mean a lot to me.
Pat-reon: /DmonLord