An Uninvited Guest

After making twenty Storm Convergence bullets in one go, Angel finally stopped, feeling her spirituality running dry.

The faint crimson glow on the neatly arranged bullets gradually faded with the passage of time. Beside them lay several failed products, most ruined by a slip of the hand during the engraving process.

Enhanced through engraving, Storm Convergence possessed tremendous power, but also far greater recoil than ordinary bullets. The standard Templar Knight launcher was equipped with a hydraulic buffer and could fire special bullets repeatedly without damage. This poorly made, poorly maintained revolver would probably be scrapped before it even fired all twenty rounds.

Even if the gun could take it, she probably could not.

Twenty bullets were enough for one battle. If that could not solve the enemy, another twenty would be useless.

Using the rest of her spirituality, she made three Phantom Phosphor Eruption rounds. They were support bullets with extremely low direct lethality. Their flight paths and final explosion points scattered Phantom Phosphor Powder, which clung to living creatures, allowing the user to spot targets in poor visibility or track the approximate position of fast-moving enemies through the trails left when they passed through areas covered in the powder.

Their production method was similar to Storm Convergence. Powdered Luminous Lizard scales soaked in Nitric Acid were added to the warheads and propellant, then mixed with Calcium Carbide and transformed through engraving into incorporeal Phantom Phosphor Powder unaffected by wind direction.

After similarly praying to the Evernight Goddess and pouring power into the engravings, Angel made 0.22-inch ammunition suitable for a lady's pistol. She placed the three Phantom Phosphor Eruption rounds together with the earlier Storm Convergence bullets into the ammunition box and covered it with oil paper.

Looking at this box of bullets, whose raw materials alone were worth fifty pounds, she felt as though her entire body ached. This was the first time this body had exhausted its spirituality. Her temples throbbed, the candlelight before her had doubled, and she felt much as she had when she had first transmigrated into this body—perhaps even worse.

Besides slowly recovering over time, the most effective way to restore spirituality was meditation. Cole's memories contained such a method, but Angel did not have the time for it now.

Pushing open the basement hatch, she returned to the study. Dawn was already breaking outside, and the crimson moonlight had once more been replaced by golden sunlight. Another sleepless night had passed.

Since coming to this world, Angel had never slept through an entire night. Whenever she finished what she was doing, she would find that morning had already arrived.

She put the ammunition box into the desk drawer, stretched, and prepared to wash her face first to clear her head before going to Saint Selena Cathedral to ask the bishop from yesterday whether he had reported the information to the Beyonder organization.

If the Church of the Evernight Goddess was slow to respond, she planned to try reporting it to the Church of the Lord of Storms at River and Sea Cathedral.

When she pushed open the living room door, Angel froze.

An unfamiliar person was sitting on her favorite sofa, the one beside the bay window where she could fully enjoy the sunlight.

The visitor was around forty, wearing a long black police uniform and a soft police cap. He had crossed his legs as though taking a break in his own home, flipping through a notebook. Angel noticed it was one of the notebooks from the report letter she had placed in the Police Station mailbox. Hearing her emerge from the study, the stranger pushed up his cap, revealing short light-brown hair. His gray eyes, ringed by wrinkles, looked toward her. That gaze felt somewhat familiar.

"Hello, ma'am." He greeted her politely. "Have a seat. I have something to discuss with you."

He pointed toward the empty sofa beside him, as though he were the owner of the house and she were the visitor who had just arrived.

Angel had already guessed his identity from his attire and obediently walked over to sit on the sofa.

"Tingen City Police Department transferred a case to us late last night. They said it might involve Beyonder crime." The unfamiliar police officer placed the notebook in his hand onto the small square table. Quite a few documents and sheets of paper were already spread across it, all from the report letter. "Earlier still, Bishop Romulus of Saint Selena Cathedral reported to us that a believer of the Goddess had suffered threats from a Beyonder. She did not dare confront the person directly, but she still bravely reported the incident to the Church."

The middle-aged officer said solemnly, "Both matters point to a Tingen University teaching assistant named Cole Granger. The address we found is here, 6 Daffodil Street."

He did not continue, as though waiting for Angel to speak first.

"That's right. I put the report letter into the mailbox outside the Police Station last night. Then I went to Saint Selena Cathedral and sought help from the bishop in the Confessional, hoping he would inform the Church's Beyonder forces."

The officer nodded. "That is why I am here. I am Dunn Smith, a Nighthawk." He removed his police cap, bent slightly, and gave a small bow.

Nighthawks. That should be the Beyonder force of the Church of the Evernight Goddess. Angel recalled Justice and Hanged Man mentioning such an organization during a Tarot Club exchange.

"Mr. Smith, hello." Angel returned the bow and continued introducing herself. "I am Angel Granger, a relative of Cole's, more or less. I am currently staying at his home."

When Dunn Smith heard Angel's name, one of his eyebrows rose slightly, as though surprised.

"There is no such information in the records for the Cole Granger family. When did you arrive in Tingen?"

As he asked this question, his gaze focused on Angel.

"I only came to Tingen this week. The records probably have not been updated yet." Angel answered. This was a critical moment in gaining the Nighthawks' trust, and she had long prepared for it.

"We will investigate." Dunn Smith nodded, seemingly accepting Angel's explanation. He rested his right arm on the sofa armrest, tilted his head, and supported his cheek with his palm. Looking rather languid, he continued asking in a voice made deeper by the obstruction of his hand:

"Do you know Cole Granger's whereabouts?"

"He should already be dead."

"...Go on." After a brief moment of surprise, Dunn Smith gestured for Angel to continue.

"You have read those letters. The person who kept in contact with Cole and provided him with Potions is called Sharon Khoy. Cole called her Mrs. Sharon." Angel gradually quickened her speech, appearing increasingly panicked. "Mrs. Sharon came to see Cole on Thursday night. Cole disappeared that very night and never showed up again. Oh, and my Assassin Potion also came from her."

"She sent another letter last night, telling me to go to her place on Sunday—tonight. I know it cannot possibly end well."

Her words were somewhat disjointed, but that was exactly the effect Angel wanted. Dunn Smith, sitting opposite her, was clearly stunned by the flood of information. He sat up slightly, lowering the hand that had supported his right cheek. His unfocused gaze drifted to somewhere behind Angel. After thinking for a while, he resumed his earlier posture and continued asking:

"You seem very afraid of Mrs. Sharon. What did she do to you?"

"Afraid? No, I should say I hate her. She gave Cole Potions, used Charm to control him, and taught him to murder innocent people. Cole got what he deserved, but Mrs. Sharon was the real culprit. She even made me become an Assassin. What, did she expect me to follow Cole's path and trade murder for advancement from her?"

Although she had prepared these words long ago to direct blame toward Mrs. Sharon, by the end Angel could not help putting some genuine emotion into them.

"Sorry, I got a little agitated."

That was Angel's sincere feeling. She had noticed that whenever she faced Officer Dunn Smith, she always had trouble controlling her emotions. She answered his questions too decisively and smoothly. Though all her answers had been prepared in advance, if this continued, she might let something slip.

"It is all right. I understand." Dunn Smith tugged at the corner of his mouth, seemingly trying to force a smile, but only making the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes more pronounced. Then he adjusted his posture, swiftly returning to his impassive expression. He clasped his hands together, interlacing his fingers, and changed to a lighter topic. "You seem to know quite a bit about Potions and Beyonders. Did you learn it from Cole Granger?"

"That's right. Mrs. Sharon thought Cole was progressing quickly, so she taught him quite a lot about the Beyonder world, such as the various Potion pathways and Sequences, as well as methods of advancement. I learned it from him."

"That makes the conversation much easier. Do you know the name and Sequence level of Mrs. Sharon's Potion?"

"At least Sequence 7, Witch. I think it is very possible that she has already reached Sequence 6, but I do not know the names of the later Sequences."

Dunn Smith nodded. "Sequence 7 is already within the range of the Mid Sequence. We need to proceed carefully in taking action against her. I will report this to my superiors. We will act only after making sufficient preparations and conducting a thorough investigation.

"As for you, Miss Granger, we will place you under Nighthawk protection during the investigation and operation. You may choose to stay at the Nighthawks' Tingen headquarters, or temporarily leave Tingen and seek refuge in Backlund. My colleagues there will receive you. You can return to Tingen once the case is resolved."

"What about tonight? Mrs. Sharon invited me to her place." Angel asked with a frown.

Smith shrugged. His meaning was obvious: Surely you were not actually planning to keep the appointment?

"If I do not go, I might alert Mrs. Sharon and make her wary. If she prepares herself, destroys the evidence, or even flees directly, how are you going to deal with that?" Seeing that Dunn Smith still had not realized the seriousness of the matter, Angel grew anxious.

"Once she flees, she will become a wanted criminal. Not only the Church of the Evernight Goddess, but also the Church of the Lord of Storms and the Church of the God of Steam and Machinery will hunt her within their jurisdictions." Dunn Smith spoke unhurriedly, as though he had not noticed Angel's anxiety at all. "But without evidence, we cannot simply arrest someone. Mrs. Sharon is also a well-known figure in Tingen City, and too many people are involved."

"Even if she belongs to the Demoness Sect?"

Dunn Smith's expression turned serious. He resumed the posture of supporting his right cheek with his right hand against the chair, as though it were his habitual pose when thinking.

"The Demoness Sect that worships the Primordial Demoness and regards spreading disaster as its mission? Are you certain?"

"Not certain, but it is highly likely. Mrs. Sharon once mentioned to Cole that she could introduce him into the Demoness Sect, but only after he advanced to Sequence 7."

The officer's gray eyes stared at Angel—or, more precisely, somewhere behind her. After contemplating for a while, he nodded as though confirming something. "If she truly belongs to the Demoness Sect, then this may be more than it appears on the surface. She has hidden in Tingen City for so many years and recently began recruiting subordinates. She must be preparing some operation. For the Demoness Sect, launching an operation often means the deaths of a great many ordinary people."

As though making up his mind, he straightened his police cap and said, "I will apply to my superiors to take action against Mrs. Sharon tonight. But," Dunn pointed at Angel, "you must still accept Nighthawk protection."

"No. I will participate in the battle as well." Angel rejected Dunn Smith's proposal.

"I was originally planning to face her alone tonight. Whether you Nighthawks were involved or not made no difference."

Dunn Smith pressed one hand against his police cap and smoothed the hem of his uniform with the other before standing up from the sofa. He smiled and shook his head—this was the first time Angel had seen him smile.

"As a Sequence 9, wanting to fight a Sequence 7 or even Sequence 6 Beyonder alone is overly bold, even in a dream."

"What?"

Was he mocking me for daydreaming? Or...

Angel felt a chill run down her spine. She instinctively reached for her gun, only to remember it was in the study drawer. She hurriedly rose from the sofa.

The world spun. The scene before her shattered. Her face was buried in her arms, and she was lying on a stone table in darkness.