Dim gas street lamps, as tall as a man, cast a light that could hardly be called bright upon the desolate street.
A carriage from another world sped along the road, brushing past patrolling officers on the sidewalks.
At this moment, the carriage, rushing forward at full speed, was undoubtedly surpassing the 120-mile-per-hour standard of Sylvia’s hometown.
Soon, the carriage came to a halt.
Having arrived at her destination, Sylvia stepped down and looked at a terraced house already under lockdown, nodding thoughtfully.
Just four hours ago, the Monne District Police Department had received a report. A neighbor of the building claimed to have heard strange knocking sounds, crying, and laughter, severely disturbing his rest.
Three hours ago, the police officers who entered the house to investigate fainted from extreme fright, and the case was officially handed over to the Tribunal of Radiance.
Three undead entities were present in this house.
This was the information provided by Kakilis.
Completely ignoring the surrounding police cordon, the puppet girl with a crow on her shoulder pushed open the door and entered.
Feeling the chill in the air, Sylvia slightly tilted her head and looked at Lakdevo on her shoulder.
The plump crow tilted its head as if sensing something.
A second later, its extremely unpleasant voice rang out:
“There is a particularly dense aura of death here. Those three undead have been lingering for at least five days.”
“And these three are not naturally born undead. I can smell the scent of a ritual.”
“These are artificially transformed undead!”
“Is that so?”
Sylvia responded noncommittally, stepping towards the second floor.
Once upstairs, she walked to the end of the corridor and pushed open the bedroom door. A rush of black and red surged into her vision.
It was a massive design drawn on the floor, filled with occult symbols representing both death and rebirth.
It seemed to be painted in blood, and at several key points there were traces of a gray-white powder.
“Caw!”
“As expected!”
Lakdevo flapped his wings.
“Just as I suspected!”
“This was a failed ritual!”
“Ritual?”
Sylvia repeated the word, then stepped toward the desk not far away.
“Yes.”
“The owner of this house was most likely a member of the Full Moon Sect.”
“And now, he is most likely already dead.”
Sylvia did not reply, merely gazing at a photo frame on the desk.
It held what seemed to be a family portrait — a couple with two children.
But the man in the picture had skin so pale it appeared unnatural. Combined with his expressionless face and cold aura, he did not look like a living person.
At that moment, Lakdevo’s voice continued:
“What you’re seeing in this bedroom is the remnants of a promotion ritual.”
“The third transformation of a Deathbringer—”
“Undergo a death, and at the ritual’s end, gain rebirth.”
“Deathbringers belong directly to the path of the God of Death. Their name also comes from the Death Herald Crows who serve the god.”
“Besides us, only the Full Moon Sect possesses the complete promotion sequence.”
“Unfortunately, it seems that the host of this ritual truly died, failing to achieve rebirth.”
“And the remnants of his ritual, unfortunately, also transformed his family into undead.”
Sylvia nodded, then raised her hand and pulled open the nearby curtain, letting the clear moonlight pour into the room.
“He wasn’t a good husband, much less a good father.”
With this brief evaluation, the puppet girl sat down on a nearby seat, listening to Lakdevo’s continued words:
“According to Kakilis’s report, it seems that the extraordinary trait belonging to this Deathbringer has already been recovered by the Full Moon Sect.”
“Otherwise, the undead they encountered here would have been terrifying beyond measure, and they would not have returned safely.”
“But I’m curious why they didn’t destroy the scene and erase the evidence.”
Sylvia narrowed her eyes slightly. After two seconds of thought, she spoke:
“Perhaps the Full Moon Sect never came here at all.”
“The one who took the extraordinary trait might have been someone else.”
Extraordinary traits were remnants left behind when an extraordinary individual died.
Since they had already integrated extraordinary power, their essence would not return directly to the Spiritual Realm upon death. Instead, like the demons of the realms, it would bind with a part of their body, becoming a material imbued with extraordinary abilities.
These could be crafted into extraordinary weapons or used as promotion material for another individual on the same path.
Using extraordinary traits for promotion allowed one to bypass the ritual and directly undergo transformation if all conditions were met.
However, the drawbacks of this method were significant, so it was rarely practiced.
Hearing Sylvia’s words, Lakdevo nodded thoughtfully:
“That's possible.”
“For some reason, the Full Moon Sect has been keeping a low profile lately.”
“Their arrival in the City of Alova was extremely secretive, with almost no trace or disturbance.”
Being hunted. Perfectly normal.
Attacking a steam train transporting forbidden and dangerous artifacts—this was undoubtedly a massive provocation to the Orthodox Church.
Sylvia muttered this to herself, then, following her spiritual intuition, reached out to retrieve a black hardcover book from the shelf.
On the book’s title page was a drawing of a full moon.
Beneath it, a line of honorific was written:
“The Pale Moon above the River of the Dead, Sustainer of Life and Death, Foundation of the World’s Endurance.”
The fat crow perched on her shoulder glanced down, then spoke:
“This is the honorific of the Ancient Moon God.”
“Mm.”
Sylvia nodded, then compared it to the honorific of the current God of Death—
“The Great One atop the River Styx, the Undying Watcher of Life and Death, the Foundation of the World’s Continuity.”
Very similar. However, the honorific of the current God of Death made no mention of a “Pale Moon.”
Then, she frowned and said:
“Something feels off.”
“Leaving something like this—which could easily expose their existence—on a bookshelf… unless they were idiots, there’s no way they’d overlook it.”
“Clearly, they’re not. Otherwise, they wouldn’t still be around, unexterminated.”
“Then what’s going on here?”
No one answered.
At the same time, she quickly flipped through the book in her hands and discovered it was a text detailing the doctrines of the Full Moon Sect.
She casually set the book down on the desk and, guided again by her spiritual sense, pulled out a notebook.
Flipping through it casually, she let out a soft laugh and spoke:
“Tut, this seems to be a diary.”
“Looks like this Deathbringer wasn’t a very decent person.”
With that, she flipped directly to the final page of the diary and scanned the contents:
“December 14th, Year 837.”
“We were deceived.”
“That train wasn’t carrying my Lord’s holy relic at all!”