Figures in the Fog

At Midnight Sentinel Hill, there was almost no moonlight; it was so dark that Dr. Morgan and his team had to carry lanterns to place the explosives in the intended location.

They also had to endure the mournful echoes drifting from the valley.

It was intermittent, and when it was loud, it almost drowned out their voices.

Mr. Sawyer said that was "the wailing of ghosts," the resentful howls of Monster in the mountains, their resentment stemming from the fact that people had driven the Monster away from the fertile plains, just as they had driven away the Yellow-Skinned Ghost.

But Paul corrected him, saying it was just a rumor.

Dr. Morgan did not participate in the debate; he was so nervous that he fell silent and said almost nothing except responding to Mr. Sawyer's instructions to place the explosives somewhere.

Mr. Sawyer was the only one of the three with experience in using explosives and was happy to be the commander.

Almost every boulder was covered with explosives, each containing a detonator connected to a fuse.

They ultimately chose not to detonate the explosives individually, but instead laid them out first.

This is Dr. Morgan's request.

The doctor told the two that whether or not they really needed to destroy the rocks still needed to be considered.

However, the truth is that, for safety reasons, the doctor did not want these two people to be present when he detonated the explosives.

Also for safety reasons, even though Mr. Sawyer repeatedly said that the fuse was long enough, the Doctor insisted on leaving more.

Once the work was basically completed, Dr. Morgan finally breathed a sigh of relief, and they brought the recent triggers together in one place.

"Light it right here?" Paul asked.

Mr. Sawyer shook his head. "Fool, are you trying to blow us all up? Let me think about it some more."

Perhaps out of nervousness, Paul did not respond to such slightly provocative words.

Dr. Morgan, looking at their stiff faces through the lantern, finally realized that they were even more nervous than he was.

As the only professional present, Dr. Morgan felt obligated to offer a few words of comfort.

He then smiled, as if to say that the mission was now accomplished.

Before he could speak, the echo in the valley grew louder, and all three of them felt a cold wind blowing.

"It's the wind blowing through the valley," Paul said.

This time, Mr. Sawyer did not refute him; the old gentleman's aged eyes were fixed on a certain direction down the mountain.

A fog had risen at the foot of the mountain, and their lanterns could only illuminate the patch of ground beneath their feet. The thick fog, shrouded in darkness, made it seem like another world altogether.

But Mr. Sawyer was still able to make out the outline of a human figure through the fog.

It wasn't because his eyes were special; it was simply that, without them realizing it, that person had gotten too close.

"Who?" Mr. Sawyer asked, "Zachariah or Luther?"

There was no response.

Paul was the first to raise his shotgun and aim steadily at the man's head in the fog.

He corrected Mr. Sawyer: "Zachariah is dead, and Mr. Luther isn't that short."

He shouted into the fog, "Tell us your name, or I'll shoot!"

Mr. Sawyer raised his second shotgun, and Dr. Morgan instinctively reached for his dagger, but couldn't find it, so he also raised his shotgun.

The man in the mist did not respond to Paul's request, but it seemed to sense the three's malice and stopped.

At this distance, even Dr. Morgan, with his excellent eyesight, could only barely deduce that the other person was a woman.

The doctor gestured to his two companions, telling them to stay where they were, and then he took a few steps forward alone.

He regretted once again that he hadn't prioritized Inspiration during the Ascension Ritual; with that extraordinary intuition, he could at least have received some hints in this situation.

The sights of all three guns remained fixed on the figure's head, and the three men's fingers never left the triggers. With their guns raised in such a tense manner, one of them could accidentally fire at any moment.

But after seeing the face of the person in the fog, the doctor relaxed slightly.

Soon, Dr. Morgan, remembering the other person's identity, became so nervous that he almost became the first person to accidentally pull the trigger.

She is Lavinia Whateley, who has albinism.

Love said she posed no threat, but she was, after all, named Whateley, and she had come here at this time.

"What brings you here?" Dr. Morgan asked.

Lavinia just stared with her pink eyes, as if she didn't understand what the doctor was saying at all.

The doctor then gave a more specific instruction. "Now, back up!"

His shotgun was practically pressed against Lavinia's forehead.

But Lavinia showed no fear whatsoever.

She suddenly raised her hand and reached into her pocket, a movement that caused Dr. Morgan to tighten his grip on the trigger of his shotgun, only to stop a moment before it went off.

Lavinia took out a small, hardened piece of bread from her pocket.

She brought the bread piece to her mouth and ate it in small bites.

She had to use a lot of effort to bite off a small piece of dry bread, and it took her a long time to swallow that small piece.

As Lavinia chewed, her forehead inevitably rose and fell, brushing against Dr. Morgan's gun barrel several times.

The mountaintop was so cold and desolate at midnight that even Dr. Morgan himself was reluctant to touch the hard, cold iron of the gun barrel.

But Lavinia's forehead brushed against it as if the gun barrel didn't exist at all.

Dr. Morgan stared in astonishment at the scene before him and took a half-step back.

Mr. Sawyer had somehow appeared behind the doctor.

The old gentleman had already lowered his shotgun. He looked at Lavinia with a hint of pity in his eyes. "She's gone mad. She's finally gone mad."

The old gentleman felt his pockets but found nothing, so he looked at the other two.

Dr. Morgan found a hard candy in his pocket.

They handed the hard candy to Lavinia, watching as Lavinia laboriously opened the packaging, popped the candy into her mouth, and broke into a bright smile.

Dr. Morgan finally loosened his grip on the shotgun, and of the three, only Paul still held it high.

Mr. Sawyer looked at Paul and then said, "Go and take Lavinia down the mountain."

"Me?" Paul asked.

"Who else but you?" Mr. Sawyer said irritably. "Me? I'm seventy-four years old!"

Paul hesitated to step forward, seemingly wanting to argue with Mr. Sawyer a few more times about his health.

But Dr. Morgan interrupted them.

He said, "Let me handle this. I know nothing about blasting mountains. You can do the rest yourselves, but don't light the fuse until I get back."

Dr. Morgan looked at Lavinia's face, and his intuition—not based on Inspiration, but on experience—kept him vigilant.

The doctor gently took Lavinia's arm.

"Down the mountain?" he asked softly.

Receiving no response, the doctor continued, "I still have plenty of sugar, but it's all down the mountain."

Lavinia's expression finally softened, and Dr. Morgan gently tugged at her.

She remained where she was, but instead of looking at the three of them, she stared at the mountaintop.

Dr. Morgan quickly realized that it was the direction of the stone disc.

Lavinia finally spoke her first words since arriving, "What are you going to do?"