Chapter 220
Past Grudges, Unforgettable
Eivass carefully observed the usually low-key old Ritualist before him.
Queen Sophia had ascended to the throne sixty years ago. She was not yet twenty at the time.
Since old Ibn knew Sophia from that era, could it be said that… he was only in his early twenties when he met Jacob Alexander?
He had a white beard, and his naturally curly hair had already turned white. Even in Avalon-style attire, a hint of an exotic aura could still be discerned from his features.
His deep green pupils were now veiled by a grayish film due to age. In his youth, he might have been a handsome young man with deep-set eyes, dark curly hair, and a beard.
What did Jacob look like back then for Ibn, who hadn’t seen him in decades, to feel a sense of familiarity upon seeing Eivass?
Thinking of this, Eivass was momentarily lost in thought.
“Jacob Alexander…”
He then focused his mind and replied softly, “He is my grandfather.”
Ibn looked somewhat doubtful. “But I remember, you are not from the Moriarty Family…”
“James Moriarty is my foster father.”
Eivass explained, “When I was a few years old, all of my parents and relatives were killed. My foster father raised me.”
“…Is that so.”
Hearing Eivass’s words, the old man’s slightly clouded eyes widened, and he murmured, “Such things happen even in Avalon…”
He was silent for a moment, seemingly aging several years.
“They were all cursed and killed,”
Eivass continued calmly, “According to my investigations over the years, my grandfather died of ‘typhoid fever’ fourteen years ago.”
“Heh. Typhoid fever…”
Upon hearing this, Ibn let out a scoff. “It should be the typhoid curse. That was a curse technique invented by Jacob… His concept for curse techniques at the time was to remain as inconspicuous as possible — preferably so that people wouldn’t realize it was a curse.
“It seems that the person who killed him must have studied curse techniques under him.”
It was like an experienced old doctor chuckling and interjecting to provide the definitive answer when hearing his students discuss a complex illness.
The lament of having to “take action” oneself, coupled with nostalgia for the past, overflowed, giving off an air of calm and reliable composure.
Eivass had originally wondered why Avalon’s court ritualists were so weak… After hearing Ibn recount his story, he had thought Queen Sophia had merely valued his character and morals.
But the strong confidence emanating from the old man at this moment made Eivass truly feel his self-assurance.
Even with a low energy level, it did not signify weakness.
“What we from the Serpent Hand thought at the time was simply to help people deal with some wicked and powerful figures, seek justice for them, or teach them a lesson. But the Serpent Hand did not want to become too famous, to the point of being relied upon and trusted by people.”
Ibn sighed, “This is the experience I shared with Jacob.”
“…Experience?”
“Yes, experience.”
Ibn’s pupils were deep, with a hint of lingering sadness. “If you became too famous, people would always come to you for solutions when something happened. But we are not gods, and moreover, even gods are not omnipotent.
“Yet people dare not blame the gods, but they dare to blame us. They would attribute their failures to us not having tried our best — although this was also true, as with too many entrusted tasks, we would inevitably have to prioritize. And if someone came asking for help and we refused, that person would also be blamed by others. Not only that, but we would even be accused and criticized by our partners…
“Was it the fault of the supplicant? Of course not. But it wasn’t our fault either, nor the fault of the critic. Everyone gathered with good intentions, so why couldn’t good intentions lead to equally good outcomes?”
Ibn spoke as if recounting something, or perhaps as if whispering to himself.
“These are all lessons I learned from my hometown. I told Jacob these things, clarifying to him in advance — we were never meant to be saviors for everyone from the very beginning. We can never save everyone, so don’t let people’s expectations be too high from the start; we cannot complete every mission, so don’t let people trust us too much.
“Under Jacob’s leadership, the Serpent Hand always maintained a low profile, existing as a secret society. Only those very few who knew of our existence could ask us to do things. And these missions came with a heavy price… It wasn’t that we wanted to profit from it, but rather to limit people from placing all their hopes on us. From my experience, that would only crush us.
“Only those willing to pay any price for revenge could usually get our response. Otherwise, we were typically the proactive party — actively seeking out what we should do. We were very free then, like legendary rogues.”
The old Ritualist sighed, “Honestly, thinking back on those days, it was quite joyful…”
He looked at Eivass, chuckling with a hint of probing or self-mockery, “But would you think we were too heartless? A society formed to help others, yet not accepting their requests.”
“…No, you were correct.”
Eivass’s fingers rhythmically tapped on the armrest of his wheelchair, and he said softly, “No one is omnipotent… therefore, not all requests can be granted. If one is dragged into an unfamiliar field due to sympathy, the efficiency and success rate would be significantly reduced.”
Eivass certainly did not blame them. He just felt as if his words had hit him like a punch.
Wasn’t he the same kind of person?
It was just that Eivass was luckier, having not yet encountered frustrating situations that would dampen his enthusiasm; or perhaps he was simply powerful enough to always fulfill others’ requests.
—As long as it was a favorable situation, everyone was a good friend.
Eivass was not unaware of such principles. It was just that having never failed, he had become a bit overconfident due to a fluke.
However…
So, his grandfather was doing this back then?
No wonder his father chose the Path of Devotion and became a priest…
“Then, about Jacob’s manuscript… do you have any leads?”
Rarely encountering someone who knew his grandfather, Eivass pressed on, “Some say he might have been killed because of the manuscript he was about to release.”
“Manuscript? This…”
Old Ibn showed a look of guilt, a regret of wanting to help but being unable to intervene. “I am very sorry. The Serpent Hand was formed during the reign of the Hanged King, and two years after I joined, the Hanged King died. When I was arrested, the Queen had just recently ascended. After that, I was taken away by Her Majesty.
“I returned once a year later… because I realized that Queen Sophia was not the same kind of person as the ‘Hanged King.’ Perhaps we could still make Avalon a better place and heal people’s misfortunes without having to rebel against the Royal Family. I intended to form a team of Ritualists for Her Majesty, and seizing this opportunity, I could also grant the curse masters of the Serpent Hand legitimate identities.
“But when I went back to find Jacob and the others, I discovered that our former strongholds had all been abandoned. All communication channels were cut off, and I received no response to my letters. I suppose…”
The old man seemed choked by memories at this point. The suppressed words turned into a long, granular sigh, like that of bellows.
—I suppose they thought I had betrayed them.
Although Ibn didn’t say it aloud, Eivass had already guessed his thoughts.
Rationally, this was understandable. One could not naively entrust the survival of their comrades to Ibn’s conscience due to feelings and trust.
But that’s what they said. It was still quite hurtful.
…However, that was sixty years ago.
The gradual disappearance of the Serpent Hand and its replacement by the Noble Red happened about fifty years ago. This meant that Ibn genuinely might not know about events that occurred ten years later…
What a pity; the clue was cut off again.
Eivass felt a sense of regret.
But with a sliver of hope, he continued, “My parents also seem to have been wiped out because of that manuscript. According to my investigation, they were likely killed by the Hooked Demon.”
“…Hooked Demon?”
Ibn frowned. “That would require a professional Curse Master, right? Could it be…”
“No. Probably not someone from the Serpent Hand.”
Eivass explained, “The Curse Master’s name is Aziz. Aziz ibn Abdul. Do you have any leads?”
Upon hearing this name, Ibn’s expression changed dramatically.
It was as if an old lion had suddenly opened its eyes and shakily stood up. Or like a wolf, weak and near death, opening its eyes under the moon, its desolate and resolute killing intent sending a chill down one’s spine.
“—Where is he?”
“…He left long ago. It is said he crossed the desert and went to a country in the east… possibly Anxi, or Horus.”
Eivass first answered the question, then paused and asked, “Do you know him?”
This was an unexpected turn of events.
He had originally expected to learn about his grandfather from Ibn… but unexpectedly, Ibn knew little about his grandfather, yet he surprisingly knew the Curse Master who had cursed the Alexander couple.
“A dark, chubby man, right?”
Ibn retorted.
“Yes. His face is dark brown, and he’s a bit hunched.”
Eivass nodded, recounting the appearance of the person he had seen in his Advancement Ritual. “All ten of his fingers were adorned with large gemstone rings… Ten years ago, he was a middle-aged man who appeared to be in his fifties. He should be sixty or seventy now.”
“…It is him.”
Ibn was silent for a long time before softly saying, “I was betrayed by him in Anxi back then.
“He was my junior disciple, and also my nephew. At the same time, he was a slave I rescued after the city fell.
“He betrayed us, who were fugitives, and exchanged our information for the status of a Free Person, a grand house, eight female slaves, and became a Curse Master serving the Lord…
“…He has also come to Avalon.”
Chapter Two around 2 o’clock, meow~
