Chapter 88
Sculptor Lars Graham
Avalon, White Queen District.
It was a building that looked quite plain from the outside, more like a warehouse than a residence.
In reality, this was Lars Graham’s sculpting studio.
He stood hunched over, holding a bone-white cane, gazing intently at a stone sculpture that was two and a half meters high and nearing completion in its upper half. He had to strain his neck to look up at it.
White, translucent chisels and hammers continuously materialized in the air, emitting crisp tapping sounds. The dense rhythm of these sounds was reminiscent of a downpour. Without the old man making any discernible movements, the sculpture was carved at an astonishing speed, as if a video was being fast-forwarded.
— Lars Graham was 74 years old this year.
The old man’s eye sockets were deeply hollowed, his eyelids purplish and withered. His dark face was a canvas of wrinkles. Only a few wisps of pale, lusterless white curly hair remained, forming a thin halo around his head. Perhaps due to the lighting, the shadows within his cloudy brown pupils took on a yellowish hue. For Master Graham, even merely lifting his head or opening his eyes required considerable effort.
By now, the once great art master had aged and withered to a mere shadow of his former self.
He was at that stage where one might fall asleep and simply never wake up again.
The silk robe he wore was adorned with patterns so complex they resembled a Persian carpet. Its primary colors were dull yellow, black, and red, featuring intricate and minute designs that could easily overwhelm the viewer at first glance. Very few people could carry off such an outfit; it was so extravagant that it would invariably overshadow the wearer, no matter how beautiful or handsome they were.
But for Lars Graham, it was perfect.
His entire being seemed like a wilting flower, collapsing inward. He stooped, hunched his shoulders, lowered his head, and bent his legs… His legs were even thinner than a young girl’s arms. What was wrapped within the opulent robe seemed less like a physical body and more like an empty vessel containing a soul.
Such a posture conjured the image of a withered butterfly trembling its wings in a downpour.
Suddenly, the sound of carving abruptly ceased.
Yet, the sound of the chisel striking the stone lingered faintly in the ears, almost like an illusion.
The old man didn’t turn or look back. He merely spoke in his low, raspy voice, drawing out his words: “Why are you here, Chloe.”
As his voice faded, a strikingly beautiful young woman with an artistic temperament materialized from the shadows behind him.
Chloe was covered in wounds and dust. Her entire body was almost a bloody mess, with some parts of her flesh scorched black.
However, the injuries looked more fearsome than they actually were; they were externally horrifying, as if she had rolled on a hotplate a few times. Internally, most of the damage had already healed, or at least stopped worsening. Even her right arm, which had been nearly severed, had been reattached and was almost fully healed.
“Dean Graham, I’ve come for some medicinal herbs.”
Chloe’s voice was dry and hoarse. “It would be even better if you had something to drink… The entire city is under near martial law outside, so I don’t dare go to their pharmacies. But I’m still short of what I need to heal.”
She called him “Dean” because Graham was the current Vice Dean of Citadel University Art College. Although he had been invited to Avalon to sculpt a sacred statue for the Queen, his position as Dean remained unchanged.
“The herbs are in the cabinet to your left,” the old man replied. He sighed, leaning heavily on his cane, and slowly turned around, taking one step at a time.
A cold, emotionless third eye appeared on his forehead, its jade pupil sweeping over Chloe indifferently.
“You aren’t gravely injured, Miss ‘Caramel’,” the old man chuckled, his tone neither sarcastic nor gleeful. “Compared to the trouble you’ve stirred up, your injuries are quite minor.”
“That’s because I used up all my life-saving props!” she retorted through gritted teeth, her voice filled with resentment. “I still don’t understand… How did that Moriarty figure out I was there?”
While speaking, Chloe rummaged through the herb cabinet, which was taller than her. She pulled out drawers containing the herbs she needed and dumped their contents onto the table.
It was by no means a ‘dose’; it was a massive quantity, enough to be acutely harmful to a normal person, or enough for at least ten days of consumption. Even if prepared as food, it would be difficult to finish in a single day.
But Chloe proceeded to devour the herbs at an astonishing pace.
Without decoction or extraction, the “medicinal power” contained within the herbs was drawn out and purified by her Path Adaptation. Soon, a faint green light emanated from her wounds, and her injuries began to heal at a visible, albeit slow, rate.
It was as if the effect of using those herbs for over ten days under normal circumstances had been condensed into a mere ten minutes.
This was a unique mastery of “herbal therapy,” effective only for oneself.
The rate at which Chloe’s wounds healed was even faster than her rate of herb consumption. By the time she had finished all the herbs, her terrifying injuries had almost completely healed.
Following this, she began to vomit violently, expelling clumps of black sludge mixed with fragments of flesh and emitting a foul odor.
This was a mixture of the herbs stripped of their medicinal properties and the waste products generated by her body’s accelerated healing. After expelling this, Chloe’s spirit clearly improved.
“…Ah, I’m alive.”
Chloe let out a sigh of relief and quickly addressed Graham behind her, “Dean Graham, I’ll help clean this up later!”
The old man ignored her, glancing at her impassively before walking towards his desk with his bone-white cane.
Chloe hurried over and poured him a cup of water.
Old Graham glanced at her and said slowly, “Anything else?”
“I just want to get some revenge and vent before I go… So I wanted to ask for your advice.”
Chloe snorted. She was clearly still somewhat indignant, mainly because the assets she had lost pained her greatly.
“I’ll remind you, Chloe, that the mission the Society assigned you is complete,” Graham said, holding his teacup and drawling in Iris Language. “If I were you, I would immediately retreat to the countryside. Once things calm down a bit, return home immediately.”
“They can’t catch me.”
Having been pursued for several days, Chloe exuded considerable confidence. “The inspectors of the Path of Authority are far more clumsy than the Extraordinary beings of the Path of Love and Beauty. This time, I’ll plan meticulously. I’ll ambush Eivass at his sleeping place in advance, wait for a day or two without eating or drinking, and I’m sure I’ll succeed.”
“To me, this sounds more like a trap,” the old man said, taking a sip of water. “You are too proud, Miss Chloe. Although you reached the Fourth Tier at twenty-four, you haven’t officially entered the Fifth Tier yet. Without completing the Advancement Ritual, there are still many people in Avalon who can deal with you.”
“The Grand Arbitrator, the Grand Judge, the Grand Guardian, the Grand Justice, plus Master Janis from the Church. Just the Extraordinary beings officially confirmed to have reached the Fifth Tier who are willing to serve the royal family already number at least five. If you encounter any one of them, you won’t be able to escape.”
“Furthermore, even the Arbitration Hall hasn’t been mobilized. They, with their power of arbitration, can exert their full strength in Avalon along the Path of Authority… Knights with honor but no power pose little threat. I believe your decision to take such a reckless action means you have strayed from your Path Adaptation. Upon your return, I will report this matter to the Leader.”
Who would have thought that this dull student, whom he had tutored for one semester and who had never shown promise on the Path of Beauty, would now be so adept after switching to the Path Adaptation?
However, the smooth advancements and assassination missions that had never failed had thrown her mental state into disarray. Such high-profile actions were not in line with the principles advocated by the Path Adaptation. This was also the reason for the stagnation of her strength.
“…Dean, does this mean you don’t oppose my actions?”
Seeing that her former superior did not object, Chloe was somewhat surprised.
She put on a sweet, obedient smile and fawned, “You are also a ‘Master,’ after all. Both of you are Extraordinary beings on the Fifth Tier of the Path of Art. Master Janis took over two hundred years to become a Master, while you achieved the title of ‘Master’ in less than forty years…”
“Heh heh… useless. I won’t fall for that,” the old man merely chuckled. “Let me be clear, no matter how close you think you are to success, I won’t intervene. I have a more important mission, and I cannot expose myself. Besides, Janis is monitoring me, so it’s difficult for me to act.”
“Just in case, I’ll ask… Where do you plan to set your ambush?”
“I haven’t thought of it yet. How about his residence?” Chloe asked casually.
“—Do not go there,” Old Graham denied without hesitation. “His butler, Oswald, is very dangerous.”
“Is he Fifth Tier?”
“It’s hard to say, but it’s highly possible. Oswald does not possess a ‘Profession’ in the modern sense. Instead, he inherited the ancient system used by long-lived beings before the emergence of Professions. His Path is a complete mix, with powers dispersed across multiple paths, and his trajectory is unclear. No one knows what his adaptability is for each path, nor what powers he wields.”
“But based on the abilities he has displayed so far, he possesses the power of at least Fourth Tier adaptability. Furthermore, as an Elf, he is incredibly knowledgeable and likely knows about shadow stealth. Going there would be certain death.”
The old man gazed at Chloe with his merciless and sharp eyes, like an art critic scrutinizing another’s work. He spoke in a peculiar, staccato rhythm, his voice rising and falling. “If there is any chance of you being captured alive… I will kill you. Now, tell me again. Where do you plan to ambush?”
“…Hmm.”
She was surprised by how strong the Elf butler apparently was.
“Then it has to be outside. I haven’t read the Avalon newspapers, but I’m sure he’s become famous. If I assassinate him, it will undoubtedly become big news.” Chloe replied briskly. “To give myself time to escape, this matter must be kept from prying eyes. Therefore, I can only kill him quickly in a place where no one can discover it, and I must also leave enough time to flee…”
“Then my advice is to go to the White Dance Shoe Club again. Go and observe his commendation ceremony,” the old man replied.
“…But it’s already almost five o’clock?”
“It’s fine. He is attending the Inspection Bureau’s commendation assembly this afternoon. Even without a banquet, he won’t be back until after 5:30 PM at the earliest. Considering the long journey, it will be at least six or seven o’clock when he returns to his dormitory. If there’s a banquet, he might be delayed by another two or three hours… and he might even have a drink.”
“According to my information, someone intends to make a move against him this afternoon… Two hours ago, two Demon Scholars from the Noble Red Society infiltrated the Royal Law University. The statues of great figures placed at the university entrance have already told me this. They are not weak, but I believe their assassination attempt will surely fail. The measures they prepared to guard against you can be used against the Noble Red Society. Because he is also certain that you are still alive.”
“Conversely, you can also observe Eivass’s methods and trump cards with this opportunity.” Although he did not approve of the careless plan proposed by the young assassin codenamed “Caramel,” the old man still offered sound advice based on his own extensive assassination experience from his youth. “There is no better assassination opportunity than this.”
“He has dealt with an enemy who sought his demise and then received an honor that would be virtually impossible for someone his age. He will undoubtedly be relaxed and smug. After that, you can directly ambush him at his dormitory.”
“Moreover, after socializing, he will be tired. A full stomach can also induce sleepiness, and alcohol will dull the senses. You might not even need ‘Hawk Feather.’ You can simply apply the poison paste to his lips, and he will die in his sleep from poisoning. In that case, no one will immediately suspect poisoning as the cause of his death… and you will have ample time to escape Glass Island.”
“As expected of you, Dean!” Chloe was sincerely impressed. “Then I’ll do just that!”
