Heretic

By the time Luther and the others' carriage arrived at Old Neil's doorstep, it was already close to midnight.

The detached house had two floors. Light still shone through the glass on either side of the front door, spilling across the path outside. They crossed a garden planted with roses and golden mint. As they breathed in the fragrance of the plants, they also faintly heard piano music coming from within. The melody was graceful and lively, echoing leisurely through the quiet night.

That old man can play the piano? I never would have guessed...

The thought had barely crossed Luther's mind when he saw Dunn, Royale, Daly, and the others who knew Old Neil well all change expression.

"Old Neil can't play the piano."

Royale quietly explained it to Luther.

Luther's heart skipped a beat. Then who was playing the piano in the middle of the night?

"The spirits nearby are very uneasy."

Daly closed her eyes, sensing something.

"Mm."

Crestet said calmly, "Then let's begin."

He did not enter the house. Instead, he stood on the path before the front door and began to sing softly. It was a song without lyrics, nothing but melody. His voice seemed to harmonize with the night, and the roses and golden mint in the evening breeze swayed their branches and leaves. Everything was so tranquil and peaceful.

Luther felt his eyelids grow heavy. Fortunately, the song was not directed at him, so after giving his head a slight shake, he dispelled the drowsiness. He saw a translucent thing drift out from Crestet's raised collar. It silently flew forward, passed through the front door, and entered Old Neil's home.

The piano music inside Old Neil's home gradually came to a stop.

"Good. We can go in now."

Crestet said flatly.

So strong. He controlled the target without making a sound. This is what a high-ranking deacon is like.

Luther could not help but marvel. He followed the others to the front door. As Royale grasped the handle and pulled it open, the scene inside the house came into view.

The house was clean and tidy, so tidy that it did not even seem like the home of an elderly man living alone. Beyond the entryway, where a coat rack and umbrellas stood, was a spacious living room. A patterned carpet lay in the center, with a heavy round table upon it. Comfortable benches, rocking chairs, and a piano surrounded the table.

Luther instinctively looked toward the piano and seemed to see a transparent figure there.

At that moment, Old Neil lay sprawled across the round table, his head resting on his arm as he slept peacefully. He was quite far from the piano, and there was no one else present.

Behind him, that familiar bizarre eye still floated in the air. But another transparent thing was entangled with it now, making it dart up and down so it could not turn its gaze toward Luther. Luther immediately recognized it as the thing Crestet had released.

He could not help looking at Crestet, only to discover that the other man was looking back at him as well.

"Tell me, what are you planning to do next?"

Crestet asked calmly.

While they had been in the carriage, Luther had said that Old Neil might still be saved. He had not been showing off or talking nonsense. Rather, over several days of observation, he had noticed something—Old Neil did not seem to have completely fallen into becoming an uncontrolled monster. After careful confirmation, he discovered that the pair of eyes was only temporarily attached to Old Neil. Though it was constantly eroding Old Neil's body, it had not yet invaded the depths of his mind.

However, Old Neil's defenses were already extremely fragile. No one knew how much longer he could hold on.

"I need two candles and a dagger."

Luther said.

Royale immediately stood up and, clearly familiar with the place, entered one of the rooms in Old Neil's house. Before long, she came back carrying two white ritual candles and a silver dagger.

"Until last year, we often came to Old Neil's house as guests."

Facing Luther's inquisitive gaze, Royale answered with some sadness in her eyes. "But back then, there was no piano in his house."

Luther said nothing and reached out to take the candles and dagger.

"Captain, please lay Old Neil flat on the floor, then take off his shirt. Take it all off."

Dunn nodded. With a grave expression, he held Old Neil beneath the shoulders and lifted him from the table. Old Neil was sleeping deeply, his body limp as mud. Dunn had to put in some effort before dragging him onto the floor.

Supporting Old Neil left him with no free hands, so he frowned, seemingly considering whether to ask Daly or Royale for help undressing him. At that instant, the hand holding Crestet's silvery-white suitcase gave a slight shake. Old Neil's clothes were cut apart as if by sharp, invisible blades, turning into countless strips of cloth that fluttered to the floor and exposed his aged, frail upper body.

Suddenly stripped of his shirt, Old Neil's body twitched slightly. He groaned a few times, as though feeling cold. Yet his eyes remained tightly shut, and he could not wake up.

Luther sat down on the floor as well. He lit the two candles between himself and Old Neil, then looked at Dunn.

"Captain, you know that I only recently became a Nighthawk. My understanding of mysticism is still shallow. I inferred this method from the ritual provided by my potion, and it may not work, so..."

"It's all right. Just do your best. No matter the outcome, I won't blame you."

Dunn said with calm eyes, "I'm already very grateful that you're willing to help Old Neil like this."

That's all I needed to hear.

Luther nodded, then looked at Crestet, who stood silently nearby. He swallowed. "Um... this method may use some undesirable power. Please don't regard me as a heretic..."

Crestet stood behind him, looking down at him. His dark green eyes were like a lake at night. "I am right here watching. Whether you are a heretic is for me to judge."

That hardly counts as a promise.

Luther grumbled inwardly, then steeled himself and raised the dagger.

"Captain, please step back first."

Once Dunn had retreated a certain distance, Luther moved the dagger through the air. An invisible substance immediately sprayed from its tip. His movements were somewhat clumsy, but he still successfully constructed an invisible barrier, isolating himself and Old Neil from the outside world.

Old Neil taught me fairly well. What a pity.

He looked around and thought to himself.

This barrier was called the Wall of Spirituality. It could separate what was inside from what was outside, preventing them from affecting each other. The invisible power used to create it came from within his body. In mysticism, it was called spirituality and could be directly understood as mental power or spiritual energy.

With the Wall of Spirituality successfully formed, Luther did not delay any longer. Gritting his teeth, he viciously slashed his finger with the dagger. The wound was deep, and blood immediately welled out.

Hiss, that hurts.

Enduring the pain, Luther placed his bleeding finger against Old Neil's chest and rapidly began to draw. His finger moved swiftly, sketching a simple True Creator holy emblem on Old Neil's skin. Then he drew a small circle around it, enclosing the holy emblem within.

After finishing, he steadied himself and nodded toward Crestet outside the wall.

With a gesture from the latter, the transparent thing entangled with the bizarre eye ceased restraining it. It passed through the Wall of Spirituality and flew back into Crestet's body.

The giant eye, newly freed, immediately floated upward. Its indifferent, cruel gaze fell upon Luther.

"Pfft."

Blood instantly gushed from Luther's nose.