Chapter 355
Rendezvous
Eivass returned the Butterfly to its travel form and headed back in the direction he had come from.
Because the power of that death aura before was too strong—although it didn’t seem to possess any killing intent, merely causing all things to freeze. Eivass was still very worried that Sherlock might be in trouble.
Fortunately, Eivass found Sherlock soon enough.
In a peculiar way—
Near the corpse of the Prince of Giants, there was an unnaturally large pit that resembled an animal trap.
Above it was a cross-shaped grate, and below that was a U-shaped pit, similar to a toilet drain or Pasteur’s swan-neck flask experiment.
It was clear that Sherlock had temporarily constructed a shelter upon seeing the death aura. His reaction was indeed swift; he had created a structure based on the specific effects of the death aura, one with a special design that could block the twilight wind outside without trapping him inside to suffocate. Even the topmost grate was now covered with a thin layer of amber crystal, making it incredibly sturdy.
“Sherlock?”
Eivass squatted above the grate and knocked.
He tentatively called into the pit, “Still alive?”
“Alive!”
Little Sherlock retorted irritably. His voice was faint and distant, requiring him to shout to be heard clearly. “Hurry up and open this lid for me!”
“I’m afraid I can’t,” Eivass replied regretfully. “We just tried. I don’t think brute force will open it—Haina’s Fourth Tier fist couldn’t budge it.”
“Then use a ritual or prayer, anything! Don’t you have the Holy Sword? Try it, get me out first!”
Sherlock was enraged. “This ground seems to be sealed by something. I can’t break out from below!”
“Alright, I’m just teasing. I’ll give it a try.”
Eivass intended to first slash with the Holy Sword and then offer a prayer to the Amber God… To his surprise, the first step itself was successful.
—The dim yellow amber crystal immediately softened upon contact with the Red-Hilted Sword in Eivass’s hand. Or rather, some power within it was absorbed by the sword. Eivass swung twice, and the grate was cut open.
Seeing Sherlock climb out from below in a sorry state, Haina kindly lent a hand and pulled him up.
“…Strange.”
Eivass looked at the Holy Sword and fell into thought.
Which effect of the Holy Sword had been activated to make it so effective against this abnormal “solidification”?
Was it dispelling evil? That didn’t seem right… Sharpness was even more unlikely.
“…Could it be a curse?”
The Red-Hilted Sword had a negative effect that made its holder “curse-vulnerable,” specifically by making it easier to absorb curse power. If it absorbed the curse from this crystal, it would naturally turn it into ordinary matter.
However, Eivass felt nothing from absorbing this curse.
Sherlock, out of breath, replied, “It is indeed a curse…”
It had been a strenuous climb out of the pit. He could barely stand steadily on the ground, which had now become as slippery as an ice surface, and he had to rise carefully to avoid sliding back into the pit.
While concentrating on maintaining his balance, he casually added, “But this isn’t the Amber God’s curse. It’s some kind of large-scale ritual.”
“Are you sure?”
“I can analyze it,” Sherlock said, pointing to his eyes, which were glowing with a sapphire radiance. “Although the scale is terrifying… this should just be Fifth Tier Extraordinary Power. The sheer quantity is enough.”
I see…
Upon hearing this, Eivass understood.
This was not a divine punishment from the Amber God they had triggered, nor was it the removal of a seal. It was related to his grandfather, Jacob.
A large-scale Fifth Tier ritual, a twilight curse covering the entire village…
—Could I be the key to activating this ritual?
Eivass hesitated for only a moment before making up his mind.
“Let’s go and see.”
He replied in a deep voice.
On the other side.
After listening to the secrets Yeats had told him, Merlin shook his head slightly.
He finally understood everything.
“So that’s how it is… With this, everything falls into place,”
Merlin murmured, “The Ouroboros Ring, the ritual that can make Heavenly Envoys fall… the Rose Cross, the Golden Dawn…”
He pondered something and then sank into thought.
After a moment of silence, he waved his hand. The luminous bands binding the giant wolf suddenly dissipated.
Before Yeats could say anything, he suddenly heard a sound. He turned his head.
The giant wolf instantly transformed into a man with a slightly hunched back and black hair damp and matted like seaweed. He wore a dark green double-breasted long coat and a brown scarf. He adjusted his collar slightly, appearing more solemn.
Not long after, Eivass and the other three appeared before the two.
Seeing the giant bound by Merlin, they were all startled at first.
The next moment, they each looked at something different—
Sherlock looked at Merlin, Lily and Haina looked at Yeats, and Eivass looked at the void left behind after the swamp disappeared.
Yes, the swamp was gone—just like during their previous experiment, it seemed a geomantic spell had been activated around the swamp, turning it back into a Fey cave.
“Lord Merlin?”
Sherlock recognized the Apostle he had met not long ago.
“Hello there, Mr. Hermes.”
Merlin, without any airs, waved to Sherlock with a smile.
Haina’s expression became solemn. “You’re the one from the train…”
“—Yeats.”
The man, a Noble who appeared to be a wild Fey, bowed slightly, placing a hand on his chest. “A poet. We meet again, Miss Haina.”
Then, he looked at Lily.
Yeats said without reservation, “And at the same time… I am also a werewolf.”
—No need to transform to confirm it.
Merely by being this close, Yeats and Lily could smell the werewolf aura on each other.
Suppressing the suddenly surging wildness within her, Lily nodded slightly.
Without introducing herself, she took half a step back, moving behind Eivass.
Eivass, meanwhile, gazed blankly at the swamp emitting a peculiar purple glow. For some reason, he felt a sense of familiarity and closeness within it.
Seeing Lily retreat behind him, he turned to look at Yeats.
“Yeats… or rather, Mr. Dark Clouds. Am I right?”
Eivass’s voice was calm and polite, gentle and magnanimous, showing none of the sarcastic and arrogant demeanor he usually displayed when bullying Sherlock and Haina. “I recall your reason for coming to Avalon was political asylum.”
“Yes, Minister Moriarty.”
Yeats nodded slightly.
His voice was deep and hoarse, and despite his imposing height and slightly hunched back, he exuded an oppressive aura. “This was approved by the Arbitration Hall.”
“Is that so.”
Eivass said calmly, “Then what brings you here?”
“I am a local, Minister Moriarty.”
“From Eagle Cape Village?”
“From Windpipe Town. I grew up by the lake, fishing around Sapphire Lake when I was a child. I only went to Iris Flower in recent years,” Yeats answered fluently.
“Is that so.”
Eivass was noncommittal.
He stared intently at Yeats and suddenly spoke, “Bishop Mathers mentioned you.”
Hearing this, Yeats’s expression changed slightly. Merlin, standing beside him, merely smiled.
At that moment, Eivass knew he had guessed correctly.
He indeed didn’t know Yeats and had never heard of him from Bishop Mathers. This was just a bluff.
But he remembered that when Mathers transformed into the cursed Paladin known as “Samuel, the Guardian of the Holy Sword”… there was a friendly NPC that needed protection, who was an Elf werewolf with hair that looked like it had just come out of the shower and hadn’t been blow-dried!
—Although Eivass couldn’t recall the man’s name at all, he still remembered his distinctive hairstyle!
