A good death; be a better person in your next life.
Syl lowered her head and pulled up her hood, slowly walking towards the door. As she reached the door, her figure seemed to be clipped out like paper and then instantly filled in, transforming into the appearance of a physician. She
reached out to adjust the bird-beak mask on her face and opened the door to walk outside.
Gently closing the door, Syl looked up at the long Dark Alley and the ordinary door behind her. All the horrific scenes seemed to be sealed behind the door; no one would imagine what had actually happened inside this ordinary house.
The sneak attack on the Clown just now made Syl realize that Inspiration was also a very important thing. If Inspiration was too low, one might not even notice a bizarre intrusion before falling victim to it.
Although a Missionary has high Inspiration, the danger is also too great. If they suddenly recited an Ancient God's Honorable Name loudly on the street, everyone on the entire street might end up with a GG.
Syl tightened her black trench coat and headed toward the Sule District. She was going to find Arnold to see if she could purchase some potions and take back her own trench coat while she was at it.
But what Syl didn't know was that less than half an hour after she left, two Investigators arrived at 53 Qikaodi Street, where Syl had just been... "McCallan, are you sure you didn't bring us to the wrong place?" a man with a brownish-red beard asked his companion.
He wore a deerstalker hat and a brown suit with a black trench coat over it, looking quite respectable—not like someone who lived in the Ivisa District.
His companion's attire was almost identical, and both held exquisite walking sticks.
"I'm an elite Investigator," the man called McCallan stroked his beard. "Trust my informant, Joseph. I've been devoted to the God of Generosity and Wisdom for at least ten years longer than you."
Hearing this, Joseph's expression seemed somewhat indifferent as he said casually:
"But it's been ten years and you're still at First Saint Rank [Investigator]. People from your same batch have already started digesting the third-rank [Master Secretary] Saint Potion. I don't want to stay at the First Saint Rank forever like you."
Hearing Joseph's words, McCallan fell silent for a moment and sighed:
"Going higher isn't always better, Joseph. An [Investigator] can also learn all the secret arts of the Church."
"Hey, I don't want to argue about this with you," Joseph waved his hand and gestured toward the door with his chin. "Let's just check out that small extremist group you mentioned that's in possession of a Sealed Artifact."
Joseph, who had completed simple tasks many times, was a bit too impulsive.
McCallan sighed and raised his walking stick, quickly chanting unintelligible incantations while the crystal-embedded end of the stick emitted a brilliant light.
"Break—"
With a sharp shout from McCallan, a blast of wind shot out, instantly shattering the wooden door into splinters. Beside him, Joseph also raised his walking stick and assumed a fighting stance.
Next, the scene inside the room made both of them freeze in their tracks.
Fifteen bodies, reduced to mere husks, were positioned in various poses facing the center of the room. The only thing they had in common was the look of terror and despair on their faces.
A thin black thread connected each of their chests, spreading toward the center to merge. In the middle was a grey fleshy tumor, a mess of bone and flesh where it was impossible to tell what had once been inside.
"Ugh—" The younger Joseph gagged and leaned against the wall at the sight.
Meanwhile, McCallan began taking out materials and quickly chanting spells, applying various buffs to himself.
"Buff yourself, Joseph. Don't act like a raw recruit." Having said that, McCallan raised his faintly glowing walking stick and entered the room to search for survivors.
"Damn... I am a rookie..." Joseph muttered, but he also raised his walking stick and began applying buffs, though much slower than McCallan.
Under their search, they found nothing at the scene except for a dining knife stained with black blood.
The entire scene looked like a failed evil spirit summoning Ritual where everyone had been consumed by the backlash of the spell.
"This formation..." McCallan crouched down, carefully examining the formation on the floor, then stepped forward to inspect the fleshy tumor.
"This formation is wrong," Joseph also noticed the problem. "But how could a wrong formation produce this kind of effect?"
"Keep watch for me." After saying this, McCallan pulled a stack of thin, dark brown paper from his pocket, spread it on the ground, and began taking small jars from his trench coat to pour onto the paper.
"A Spiritual Dream Ritual? Are you crazy, McCallan!?" Joseph felt a wave of fear as he looked at the grey fleshy tumor. "This is a genuine evil spirit! Aren't you afraid of seeing something you shouldn't? We should call the Church's high-level Investigators over."
"Look at the dining knife on the floor, Joseph. Someone else must have witnessed all of this." McCallan's movements were very swift; he quickly mixed all the materials together, poured them onto the paper, and finally rolled the brown paper up.
"And they must have just left. By the time high-level Investigators arrive, the Spiritual Dream might no longer work. We can't overlook any security risk."
"Remember our mission, and the oath you took when you joined the Church." At this point, McCallan looked up and glanced calmly at Joseph. "'Investigate, seal, keep secrets; protect the ordinary amidst the mystical.'"
Having said that, he picked up the rolled material, walked to the dining table, and sat down in a chair.
Taking out a kerosene lighter, he lit the secret art material that looked very much like a cigarette, stuffed the end into his mouth, and took a light puff into his lungs, just like smoking.
Instantly, everything before McCallan's eyes turned black and white, and several fragmented images began to reconstruct and appear before him.
Fourteen figures in black robes were discussing something. The cabinet behind them appeared transparent, stuffed with several female corpses.
One black-robed person brought in a tall woman with green hair and a blurred face.
The bodies of the fifteen black-robed people ruptured, and the bloodlines on them pulled them into a circle. In the center was a giant fleshy cocoon, and standing outside the circle was... was... "Pfft—" A mouthful of fresh blood sprayed from McCallan's mouth, extinguishing the burning material.
Joseph, standing nearby, wanted to take the secret art cigarette away from McCallan, but McCallan stopped him. McCallan quickly dried and relit the cigarette, taking a deep breath.
A petite figure... holding her arms high, but she had no face, not even skin. Her entire body was covered in terrifying, gruesome mouths full of teeth. McCallan only took one look, and the Saint Potion in his body nearly went out of control.
He quickly cut away from that image. The final image lingered on the green-haired woman throwing a flying knife at that bizarre fleshy cocoon. After this scene passed, McCallan woke up again.
"It seems... *cough cough*... someone dealt with this gestating evil spirit before we arrived... That black-robed... Devotee, it was a Devotee!" McCallan's voice was raspy as he looked at Joseph and continued, "Quick, get the high-level Investigators here, hurry!"
McCallan hadn't heard of an Evil God's Devotee in who knows how many years. He had a premonition that Suramar, and perhaps even the entire Great Saya Empire...
...was in trouble... PS: Thanks to @Cheng Duan Lin Ai for the blade. Thank you, boss, and I wish you good health~
Also, thanks to everyone for the votes~ You've given me a bit of hope for my new book. I'll do my best to make the upcoming plot exciting!
*Cough cough*... It's time for my favorite joke segment.
[Little swallow, wearing colorful clothes~ Coming here every spring~ I ask the swallow why you come~ The swallow says:]
[Mind your own business.]
Hmm... I've successfully mastered the magic of freezing the atmosphere!