Chapter 392: Casualties
Reality, Oravi Island, Saint Draco Church
Two young men sat on a pew, attentively listening as an elder in the Church of the Storms, clad in a bishop's ceremonial robes, spoke about the dangers of the "Trial Temple."
"In short, although the so-called 'God of Luck' is long gone, the ruins remain fraught with dangers. You both may be experienced, but exercise caution... If you find yourselves in dire straits, do not hesitate to use the 'Calamity' charms provided to you. Though you are neither clergy nor adjudicators, you are loyal servants of the Lord, and you must cherish your lives," the bishop concluded with a final admonition.
"Thank you for your guidance, Bishop Farion," said the younger of the two, a blue-haired man in his early twenties, his tone brimming with excitement. "We will complete this mission!"
The other, a slightly older man with yellow hair, clenched his fist against his chest in a salute and added, "Storms be with you."
"And with you, children," the bishop replied with the standard blessing. Then, with a gentle smile, he added, "Tonight, Lord Courtman himself will be stationed outside the ruins to support you, so there's no need to be overly anxious."
Hearing this, the blue-haired young man's face lit up. What he had assumed to be an exceedingly perilous mission due to the generous rewards now seemed far less daunting with a Saint providing oversight.
In contrast, a fleeting but noticeable trace of fear crossed the yellow-haired man's face before he quickly composed himself.
The personal presence of a Saint... It reflects Lord Courtman's seriousness. And a ruin deemed this critical by someone of his stature must be immensely dangerous!
As this thought settled in his mind, the yellow-haired man glanced briefly at his companion but chose to remain silent.
At that moment, the sound of tolling bells echoed from the church's rear bell tower. The bishop clapped his hands, turning to the two men and saying, "Very well. With only an hour remaining until the ruins' passage opens, let us depart for the beach.
"Take this time to steady your minds."
"Yes, Bishop," the two responded in unison.
---
Meanwhile, outside the governor's mansion, adventurer Laticia Dorella and her companion Soro boarded a carriage alongside Governor Austen Rieveldt, heading to the northern beach.
"Laticia, will one 'Ninth Law' charm suffice to see you through all three trials?" Austen asked, eyeing the dark-gold charm Laticia toyed with in her fingers.
Laticia gently shook her head, responding cryptically, "Fear stems from the unknown; courage arises from the heart, yet the heart needs an anchor..."
"If I knew the trials' exact content, I would naturally be full of confidence and courage, passing without issue. But since I don't know, I need something tangible to serve as that anchor and solace."
This explanation was directed at both Austen and her companion Soro, offering them subtle guidance.
After a pause, she added, "From what I understand, any elf harboring fear before the trial begins can never pass the first test of courage."
Austen mused aloud, "So the 'Ninth Law' serves as your foundation, your crutch?"
"Yes. A high-level charm like this is enough to handle most crises. Simply holding it in hand, even without using it, instills courage in both Soro and me," Laticia said with a smile. "Of course, Admiral Amyrius's presence outside the ruins serves a similar purpose."
"I see," Austen replied with dawning comprehension before taking the opportunity to grasp Laticia's hand. His voice softened, full of sincerity, as he said, "You should have told me earlier. I also have a collection of items. If they could bolster your courage, I wouldn't hesitate to lend them to you."
Laticia gently withdrew her hand, shaking her head. "That won't be necessary. Too many items would dilute my focus on the 'Ninth Law.'
"Moreover, mixing various objects might cause interference, turning them into burdens."
Austen had no real intention of lending anything and was merely making an excuse to flirt. Thus, he smoothly changed the subject, asking, "What about the trials of willpower and strength? Do you also plan to rely on the 'Ninth Law'?"
Laticia chuckled, her tone resolute. "Soro and I are adventurers who've endured countless extreme environments. When it comes to willpower and strength, I'm confident we won't lose to elves of the same rank! If they could pass back then, so can we!"
Her words were firm, and her eyes shone with conviction.
At that moment, Austen found Laticia more enchanting than ever. She seemed radiant, exuding an unparalleled allure that made him wish to keep her in the governor's mansion forever.
But he knew this was merely wishful thinking. For Laticia, the thrill of adventure far outweighed the comforts of a noblewoman's life.
---
Back in Backlund, Minsk Street.
After signing a contract with Thomas Corsen to terminate the investigation, Klein took a carriage to the circus.
As for how Stewart—the newly involved party—would handle the aftermath, what did it matter to a small-time detective like Sherlock? He had no interest in getting embroiled in a conflict between a Mystic Teacher and a Puppet Master. That would be suicidal!
During the circus performance, Klein gleaned that "Magician" might have a rule requiring applause from an audience as part of its act. Coincidentally, he also encountered Fat Pharmacist Darkwill, who had come for similar inspiration.
Darkwill avoided a potential animal attack by issuing a sharply sarcastic warning, prompting Klein to ponder a familiar question: Why must good intentions always be expressed in such off-putting ways?
On his way home, Klein stumbled upon a battlefield where the Nighthawks were ambushing the culprit of the serial killings—a devilish hound. He suspected the hound had a master orchestrating events behind the scenes.
Finally home, he was roped into a new task: watching Lawyer Jürgen's black cat, Brody, for the evening.
Reflecting on the day's numerous events, Klein began to wonder if Dr. Allen had somehow infected him with his misfortune. Why else would so much keep happening?
Although most incidents seemed to pass him by, he couldn't shake the feeling that one day, they might all come crashing into his life.
No, it's just my imagination! Klein sighed, glancing at Brody, who was lounging nearby. Smiling, he extended a hand to pet the black cat.
However, Brody turned its back to him and walked away, settling out of reach.
Klein's smile froze on his face.
---
In the Maze Tower, Fifth Floor.
With the passage to the ruins about to open, Ebner arrived alone on the northern beach, comparing his position to the hand-drawn map.
Not far away, Laticia and Soro disembarked from a carriage surrounded by Governor's guards.
Seeing this, Ebner glanced back at his surroundings. Aside from the sea and sand, there was nothing in sight.
"The Church of the Storms really is just a 'background prop.'
"Thankfully, its presence still exerts a tangible influence. Otherwise, the Governor's people would've chased me off by now!"
As he vented inwardly, the sky darkened completely, even the crimson moon obscured by mist.
Soon, a rustling noise came from the sea. Using his simulated night vision, Ebner peered about a nautical mile away, where the seawater churned into a massive whirlpool. At its center, pinpricks of starlight sparkled, resembling a gateway made of pure light.
"So that's the passage?" Ebner muttered, scanning his surroundings but finding no answers. He turned his gaze toward Laticia's group.
There, he saw her pull a green scroll from her pocket, whispering a word in ancient Hermes, "Wind."
A gust rose beneath her feet, carrying her and Soro toward the whirlpool's center.
Without hesitation, Ebner activated his simulated "flight" ability, soaring after them.
---
On a nearby cliff overlooking the beach, Admiral Amyrius Rieveldt stood silently, observing the three figures take to the air. Turning his head slightly, he directed a commanding and oppressive gaze toward another part of the sky.
Moments later, he frowned, murmuring in confusion, "What am I doing? Why am I staring at empty air?"
---
Farther away, within a bridge's stone arch, Councilor Ricciardo sighed deeply. At last, he discerned the source of discrepancies between "reality" and his "perceptions." Smiling, he muttered, "It's time to wake up..."
With that, he closed his eyes.
---
Meanwhile, in reality, Oravi Island, Ricciardo sat beneath the same stone bridge, observing the northern beach through a mystical artifact.
He saw the whirlpool passage form, Admiral Amyrius locking eyes with Sea King Courtman, and the latter sending two young men through the "Star Gate" using his wind ability.
Then, suddenly, Ricciardo's vision blurred. When he came to, he glanced around in confusion, mumbling, "Did I just dream?
"Is this a sign of losing control... or an influence from the ruins?
"The bad luck caused by its emergence already brought my ritual to the brink of failure. Could the misfortune not be over yet?"
As he tried to parse the chaotic scenes from his dream, they began slipping from memory. Even with mystical means, he could no longer recall them.
"At least angel-level interference..." Accepting this, Ricciardo turned back to the artifact.
What he saw made his heart sink. Among the two young men sent by the Church of the Storms, the older, yellow-haired one had already been ejected from the whirlpool—lifeless.
A chilling phrase surfaced in Ricciardo's mind, one he had never encountered before:
"The Elven Trials rarely result in casualties—unless you're unlucky enough to encounter the 'God of Luck' having a mad episode!"
End of Chapter.
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