Uninvited Guest

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

The faint crimson glow on the neatly arranged bullets gradually faded with the passage of time. Several failed, unusable rounds lay beside them, most ruined by slips 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 designed with a hydraulic buffer and could fire special rounds continuously without being damaged. This poorly made, poorly maintained Revolver would probably be ruined before it could even fire 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 deal with the enemy, another twenty would be useless.

With her remaining spirituality, she made three more Phantom Phosphor Eruption rounds. These were auxiliary bullets with extremely low direct lethality. Their flight paths and final detonation points scattered Phantom Phosphor Powder, which adhered to living creatures, allowing the user to spot targets in poor visibility or trace the general direction of fast-moving enemies through the trails formed as 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 bullet heads and propellant. After being mixed with calcium carbide, they were transformed through engraving into incorporeal Phantom Phosphor Powder that was unaffected by wind direction.

After likewise praying to the Goddess of the Night and channeling power into the engravings, Angel produced 0.22-inch rounds suitable for a ladies' pistol. She placed the three Phantom Phosphor Eruption rounds together with the earlier Storm Convergence bullets into the ammunition box and covered them with oiled paper.

Looking at the box of bullets, whose raw materials were worth fifty pounds, she felt as if her entire body ached. This was the first time this body had completely exhausted its spirituality. Her temples throbbed painfully, the candlelight before her had begun to double, 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 through 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 had arrived outside the window. Crimson moonlight had once again been replaced by golden sunlight, and another sleepless night had passed.

Since arriving in this world, Angel had never slept through a full night. Whenever she finished what she was doing, she would find that it was already the next morning.

She put the ammunition box into the desk drawer, stretched, and prepared to wash her face and clear her head before going to Saint Selena Church to ask yesterday's bishop whether he had informed the Beyonder organization.

If the Church of the Night 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.

A stranger was sitting on her favorite sofa, the one backed against the bay window where it could soak up the sunlight.

The man looked to be around forty. He wore a long black police uniform and a soft police cap, sitting with one leg crossed over the other as if taking a rest in his own home while leafing through a notebook. Angel noticed that it was one of the reports she had dropped into the Police Station mailbox. Hearing her emerge from the study, the stranger lifted his cap slightly, revealing short light-brown hair. His gray eyes, surrounded by wrinkles, looked toward her. There was something vaguely familiar about that gaze.

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

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

Angel had already guessed the man's identity from his attire. She obediently walked over and sat down.

"Tingen City Police transferred a case to us late last night. They said it might involve Beyonder crime." The unfamiliar officer placed the notebook in his hand on the small table, where quite a few documents and sheets of paper had already been spread out, all from the reports. "Earlier still, Bishop Luo Mulun of Saint Selena Church reported to us that a believer of the Goddess had been threatened by a Beyonder. She did not dare confront them directly, yet she still courageously reported the matter 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 Narcissus Street."

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

"That's right. I dropped the reports into the mailbox outside the Police Station last night. Then I went to Saint Selena Church 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 at the waist, and gave a small bow.

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

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

When Dunn Smith heard Angel's name, his eyebrows rose slightly, as though he were somewhat 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 arrived in Tingen this week. The records probably have not been updated yet," Angel answered. This was a crucial moment for gaining the Nighthawks' trust, and she had long prepared for it.

"We will investigate." Dunn Smith nodded, apparently accepting Angel's explanation. He rested his right arm on the sofa armrest, tilted his head, and propped the side of his face up with his palm. Looking rather languid, he continued in a deeper voice muffled by his hand.

"Do you know Cole Granger's whereabouts?"

"He should already be dead."

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

"You have already read those letters. The person who stayed in contact with Cole and supplied him with potions was named Sharon Hoy. Cole called her Mrs. Sharon." Angel gradually quickened her speech, making herself sound increasingly flustered and uneasy. "On Thursday night, Mrs. Sharon came looking for Cole. Cole disappeared that same night and has not shown up since. Oh, right, 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 definitely will not end well."

Her words were somewhat disjointed, but that was precisely the effect Angel wanted. Dunn Smith, seated opposite her, was clearly stunned by the flood of information. He sat up a little, lowered the hand supporting his right cheek, and stared unfocused at a spot behind Angel. After thinking for a while, he returned to his previous posture and continued asking.

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

"Afraid? No, it would be more accurate to say I hate her. She supplied Cole with potions, used Charm to control him, and taught him to murder innocent people. Cole got what he deserved, but Mrs. Sharon was the true culprit. She even made me become an Assassin. What, did she want me to follow Cole's path and trade killings for advancement from her?"

Although Angel had prepared those words long ago to direct suspicion toward Mrs. Sharon, by the end she had nevertheless put some genuine feeling into them.

"Sorry, I got a little emotional."

That was Angel's honest feeling. She realized that whenever she faced Officer Dunn Smith, she could never quite control her emotions. When responding to his questions, she answered too quickly and too decisively. Though every answer had been prepared beforehand, if this continued, she might let something slip.

"It is alright. I understand." Dunn Smith tugged at the corner of his mouth, as though trying to force a smile, but it only made the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes stand out more. Then he adjusted his posture, swiftly returning to a cold expression. He clasped his hands together, interlacing his fingers, and shifted to a more relaxed 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 different potion pathways and Sequences, as well as methods of advancement. I learned about them from him."

"That makes this 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 likely 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 Middle Sequence range. We need to proceed carefully in any operation against her. I will report this to my superiors. We will act only after making thorough preparations and investigations.

"As for you, Miss Granger, we will protect you during the investigation and operation. You may choose either the Nighthawks' headquarters in Tingen, or temporarily leave Tingen and seek refuge in Backlund, where my colleagues 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 obvious: You are not actually planning to attend the appointment, are you?

"If I do not go, I will very likely alert Mrs. Sharon and put her on guard. If she prepares herself, destroys the evidence, or even flees directly, how are you going to handle that?" Seeing that Dunn Smith still had not recognized the seriousness of the matter, Angel became a little anxious.

"Once she flees, she will become a Wanted Criminal. Not only the Church of the Night Goddess, but the Church of the Lord of Storms and the Church of the God of Steam and Machinery will also hunt her within their jurisdictions." Dunn Smith spoke unhurriedly, as if 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 the matter involves too broad a scope."

"Even if she is a member of the Witch Sect?"

Dunn Smith's expression turned serious. He resumed his habitual thinking pose, supporting the right side of his face with his right hand against the chair.

"The Witch Sect that worships the Original Witch and takes spreading disasters as its mission? Are you certain?"

"Not certain, but it is very likely. Mrs. Sharon once mentioned to Cole that she could recommend him for membership in the Witch Sect, but only after he advanced to Sequence 7."

The officer's gray eyes fixed on Angel—or, more precisely, somewhere behind her. After pondering for a while, he nodded as if confirming something. "If she really is a member of the Witch Sect, then this matter may be far more complicated than it appears. She has hidden in Tingen City for so many years and only recently began recruiting subordinates. She must be preparing some sort of operation. For the Witch Sect, launching an operation often means the deaths of many ordinary civilians."

As if making some kind of decision, 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 still need to accept the Nighthawks' protection."

"No, I will take part in the battle too." Angel rejected Dunn Smith's suggestion.

"I originally planned to face her alone tonight anyway, whether you Nighthawks were involved or not."

With one hand pressing down his police cap and the other smoothing the hem of his uniform, Dunn Smith rose 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 far too bold, even in a dream."

"What?"

Was he mocking me for daydreaming? Or was it...

Angel felt a chill run down her spine. She instinctively reached for her gun, only to remember that 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 amid darkness.