True Creator

Black Knight?

Taken literally, it means someone who prays to a hidden existence.

That sounds exactly like the profile of a cultist...

Luther savored the taste of the name and continued to ask, "So, what are the abilities of a Black Knight?"

"A Black Knight can perceive certain mysterious and terrifying existences, master some sacrificial knowledge and a small amount of Ritual Magic, and will, to varying degrees, experience a distortion of their cognitive perspective. However, apart from that, their physical strength is no different from an ordinary person's. And because their spirituality is higher, they are more prone to losing control than the average Beyonder."

"...Ah?"

More prone to losing control? What kind of trait is that! And their physical strength is actually no different from an ordinary person's... No wonder he was able to knock down Sirius with just a candlestick; it feels like there's no comparison to a Seer or The Unsleeping.

Luther couldn't help but click his tongue.

"Don't underestimate them. A Sequence 9 Black Knight is indeed not strong, and their primary threat comes from their tendency to lose control, but the abilities of those at higher sequences are quite terrifying, known for being sinister, insane, and omnipotent." Dunn continued, "However, regarding specific intelligence on them, for reasons of confidentiality, I cannot tell you."

"Understood, thank you very much."

Luther nodded, half-disappointed and half-uneasy. He was disappointed because he couldn't learn more about the pathway, and uneasy because, after Dunn's introduction, the hopeless prospects of this sequence were already vaguely visible to him.

"Come to think of it, if you really want to understand the abilities of a Black Knight, shouldn't you be asking yourself?"

Just then, the green-eyed Night Watcher who had been observing Luther without saying a word chimed in with a smile. He was good-looking, dressed in a casual style, and possessed a romantic, frivolous air like a poet.

Not as handsome as me, though.

Luther muttered to himself, nodding at the other man, "May I ask, Mr. Night Watcher..."

"My name is Leonard Mitchell."

"Mr. Leonard, what do you mean by that?"

"No need to be so formal, just call me Leonard... I mean, the Potion carries its own information. At the same time you became a Black Knight, the relevant knowledge was already imprinted in your mind." The green-eyed Night Watcher who called himself Leonard tapped his forehead with his knuckles and chuckled, "Why don't you try meditating? You might just discover your abilities."

Is it that simple?

Luther felt it was somewhat incredible, but he decided to give it a try. "How exactly do I meditate?"

So, Leonard taught him the method of meditation. Luther followed his instructions, closed his eyes, relaxed his mind, and tried to communicate with his inner self.

The night streets were very quiet, and the other two in the carriage stopped talking. For a time, only the sound of the carriage moving along the road could be heard. Soon, Luther cleared his thoughts and indeed discovered some things that did not originally belong to him.

"I feel it. It seems to be some knowledge about sacrifices."

He murmured, his expression shifting, his face full of disgust. "How insane..."

It turned out that the vast majority of this sacrificial knowledge was extremely twisted and evil, providing detailed instructions on how to please an Evil God, including the sacrifice of flesh and blood, human lives, and even the desperate, extreme emotions they felt before death...

"Anything else?"

Dunn pressed, as learning about the Black Knight from a first-person perspective was a fresh experience for him as well.

"There is also some... Ritual Magic..."

Luther frowned, thinking carefully. "But many of the rituals are very crazy; they are based on pleasing an Evil God, and the effects obtained are also extremely twisted..."

"That matches what is written in the internal files."

Dunn nodded. He noticed that the other man's state was poor, so he spoke up, "That's enough, Luther. End the meditation."

"Right."

Luther responded, but he didn't stop.

Huh? I should have stopped, so why do I still want to look deeper?

Luther felt a bit puzzled, yet he continued. At the very depths, there seemed to be something... some kind of unstoppable force pushing him, urging him to dive deeper into his consciousness.

Who is the object of the Black Knight's sacrifice?

Who are the existences invoked by those rituals?

Insane, surging thoughts drove him, making him desperately pursue the honorific name of that grand entity carved into the deepest part of the Potion. It was like forcing his physical body into a narrow cave; even though his bones were already shattered, he still mobilized his muscles to crawl deeper like a worm... Finally, he saw it, understood it, and remembered it. Beneath that inverted cross, in that blood-colored sky, upon the shattered corpse of Sirius... piled up, carved, and filled with praise for the Lord! That was the Lord's name—

"True Creator."

Luther trembled in terror, using a strange language he had never learned, with immense joy and despair, he couldn't help but chant:

"The Lord who created everything..."

"Stop!"

A roar suddenly erupted, startling Luther out of his hallucination.

Opening his eyes, he saw Dunn pressing down on his shoulders, his other hand already having drawn his revolver, while Leonard had also stood up, hunched over as if prepared for battle.

Dunn gazed at him with deep eyes, and only when he saw that he had regained his clarity did he breathe a sigh of relief and slowly sit back down.

"What were you doing just now?"

He demanded.

"Checking the knowledge carried by the Potion," Luther replied, looking very innocent.

"You were attempting to invoke the honorific name of the True Creator using the Hermes language!"

Dunn said solemnly.

"What is that? Is it very serious?"

Luther felt his head buzzing, aching and dizzy. During his meditation just now, he had received a massive amount of mystical knowledge from the Potion, which had flooded his mind. Out of the corner of his eye, he once again saw irregular black lines and illusory limbs appearing in the corner of the carriage; they were peering at Luther, emitting inexplicable whispers.

"Serious?"

Leonard let out a scoff, "If you had been lucky enough to finish reciting the entire honorific name just now, you would have already turned into a lunatic just like that Sirius!"

Luther couldn't help but swallow hard, subconsciously glancing at the revolver in Dunn's hand.

In other words, they would have shot him on the spot...

Dunn retracted his revolver and said:

"The True Creator is the Evil God worshipped by the Aurora Society, the very 'Lord' that Sirius spoke of. You mentioned before that when you fell into hallucinations, you would see a hanging giant, right?"

"Yes."

Luther nodded, then suddenly froze.

Could it be that...

"The Hanged Giant is the most classic image of that Evil God."

Dunn said indifferently.

"Hiss..."

Luther took a deep breath, terrified.

A chill rose from the soles of his feet, traveled up his spine, and finally exploded in his brain.

No wonder Sirius said he carried the scent of the "Lord"...

"Why would this happen?"

He muttered subconsciously.

Why would the Luther from before his transmigration see such hallucinations?

And what kind of connection could this have with his transmigration?

"I really was just checking the knowledge of the Potion earlier. This honorific name came with the Potion, and the moment I saw it, I recited it involuntarily," he said, trying to prove his innocence. "I didn't know what the consequences of saying it would be."

Thinking back carefully, besides the True Creator, there seemed to be another honorific name within the Potion, but given the current situation, he decided not to mention it for now.

"I believe you, but don't do it again next time."

Dunn gave him a deep look and said.

Luther nodded hurriedly.

After that, the atmosphere in the carriage became strange and quiet. None of the three spoke again until the four-wheeled carriage brought them to their destination.

Blackthorn Security Company—the sign bearing these words was illuminated by a gas street lamp. The entire building stood silently in the deep night, guarding the slumber of the whole city. The carriage door was pushed open, and the cool night breeze blew against his face. Luther felt a surge of energy and suddenly remembered something.

"By the way, Mr. Dunn."

He spoke up, "My sister's attitude toward you just now was a bit rude. She is young and doesn't know any better, so please forgive her."

Dunn had already stepped one foot out of the carriage, but hearing this, he stopped and turned his head back.

"Do you think I would mind?"

He asked calmly.

You probably wouldn't mind, but I still have to say it.

Luther thought to himself.

Seeing that he didn't answer, Dunn suddenly smiled and said something seemingly unrelated.

"Your sister takes very good care of you."

"Huh?"

Luther was a bit bewildered, then saw Dunn point to his fingernails, hair, clothes, and other details.

"You were often half-mad while trapped in hallucinations, unable to look after yourself. Yet your nails and hair were meticulously trimmed, and although your clothes were worn, they were very clean—this shows that your sister has been taking careful care of you. And when facing a male police officer like me, whose power is far greater than hers, she dared to talk back even though she was afraid, all to protect her brother."

Dunn adjusted his police cap, turned, and stepped out of the carriage. His final words vanished into the night breeze, "How could I possibly mind the slight rudeness of such a noble lady."