The Other End of the Altar

Elliot noticed it too. He sprang to his feet, feeling a chill shoot up from the soles of his feet.

This "Formless Art" was even stranger than he had imagined. Merely learning it had cost her a finger?!

Would more powerful secret arts require losing even more?

His earlier excitement faded, and Elliot felt vaguely uneasy.

Was the extraordinary... a blessing, or a curse?

He suddenly recalled the title of that book:

"The Sins and Punishments of Sacrifice-The Pitiful Extraordinary Ones"

After directing the girl to bandage her wound, Elliot sat there in a daze.

For a moment, he even felt lost. How could the extraordinary power he had longed for be like this?

Wasn't it supposed to be something better, something stronger, something that could change one's fate? Why did it seem to be the opposite, shackling one to destiny instead?

No, it's probably just this particular secret art. It was under the [Distortion] option, after all. There must be something wrong with it... wasn't what I got from [Blessing] perfectly normal?

Besides, it's only a game in the end. No matter how well the Difference Engine can simulate things, it must differ from reality. Making concessions for gameplay is normal.

Come to think of it, I'm especially tired today.

Elliot rose from the Difference Engine and stretched his stiff body. He planned to find something to eat; there was no hurry to keep playing.

He walked toward the door, stepped around a large pool of blood on the floor, and opened the door...

Huh?

Blood?

Elliot froze with his hand on the doorknob.

Countless thoughts flooded his mind. In the end, he took a deep breath and turned to look.

If there was an enemy, it was certainly too late to run. He was only an ordinary person. Anyone who could get in here without a sound was most likely an Extraordinary One!

Elliot tensed all over, ready to call for the old butler's help at any moment. But when his gaze fell on the blood, he suddenly paused.

This blood... why is it glowing?

Looking closely, he saw that the pool of blood gave off a faint white light, conspicuous in the room.

He looked around. This secret room had long since been emptied, leaving nowhere for anyone to hide. Elliot hesitated, but decided to play it safe.

"Conrad! Conrad!"

Perhaps hearing the urgency in his voice, the old butler opened the door a moment later.

"What is it, young master?"

There was not the slightest hint of anxiety in the old butler's voice. He remained as composed as ever.

His gaze, however, swept quickly across the room, pausing briefly in several corners before moving on.

Only then did he look at Elliot.

Elliot narrowed his eyes. After a moment, he suddenly grinned. "I've decided we could put a cabinet in here to keep some food in, so I won't have to go out looking for it."

The old butler sighed softly. "If you need anything, I can bring it straight to you... though I would still recommend eating proper meals."

"Next time. Definitely next time. For now, just bring me something to fill my stomach!"

Conrad nodded helplessly and left. The smile gradually faded from Elliot's face, and he looked back at the blood on the floor.

The old butler had paid no attention to that pool of blood, even though it had been close beside him.

Did he not see it? Impossible. Knowing the old butler, he would definitely have someone clean it up.

So... only I can see it?

Eating the sandwich the old butler had brought, Elliot turned back to close the door, then went over to the blood and crouched down.

"What's going on...?"

Looking closely, there seemed to be no trace of anything on the floor. He wiped a finger across the "blood" and held it under his nose.

"No smell at all."

Yet there was plainly a patch of faint white light before his eyes.

"And... why did I think it was blood? I haven't seen much blood, but at first glance, I didn't think of grease or dirt. I thought of blood."

"Seeing things other people can't, faintly glowing, and even knowing what they are..."

"If I'm not mistaken..."

Elliot stood and slowly turned his head.

The Difference Engine's sacrificial platform had already retracted, but a small metal plaque now lay on the desktop. It was the blessing Vanessa had already made permanent:

[Spirit Vision +1]

"Doctor Norman! Please bandage me up. I'm hurt!"

Vanessa burst through the door. Inside, Norman looked up in some surprise.

After the sacrifice ended, the girl had hastily bandaged her left hand with strips of cloth, then quickly left No. 37 Pine Resin Alley and jogged back to the hospital.

She actually thought it would be better to take an injury like this to Dorothea. The hospital was outrageously expensive, and she could not afford the treatment fees.

But Miss Crow had recently gone out on fieldwork, and there was no telling when she would return. With no other choice, Vanessa could only steel herself and go to Norman.

Seeing that it was Vanessa, Norman immediately scowled. "Do you have money? Do you think I run a charity?"

"I... I'll pay you back little by little..." Vanessa gave him an ingratiating smile. "If I don't get treated and die, wouldn't that mean I could never pay you back?"

Only then did Norman turn his gaze to the girl's left hand.

"Unwrap it. You hardly look like you're dying... hiss..."

The sight of the cleanly severed stump on her hand startled him, and he immediately shouted outside, "Nurse! Nurse!"

"Mr. Norman?" The nurse outside poked her head in.

"Go to the operating room and prepare a suturing kit! Quickly!" Norman turned back to Vanessa. "Where's the severed finger?"

"It's... it's gone..."

"How can it be gone! Go and find it! If we stitch it back on right away, we might still save it!"

"It really is gone. There's no finding it." Vanessa did not know how to explain it. She could hardly say it had vanished during a sacrifice, could she?

"You... ah!" Norman glared at Vanessa and shook his head angrily. "I thought it was some minor injury... how did you lose this finger?"

"Uh..."

"The cut is so clean, it hardly looks like an accident. Did you offend a gang? Owe someone money?"

That sounds like a pretty good excuse.

Vanessa was hesitating over whether to agree when Norman shook his head and sighed. "Luckily, it's only your little finger. It shouldn't affect your hand's function too much... I'll clean the wound and stitch it up to form a functional stump. Later, you can get a prosthesis or something. It won't be much use, but at least it'll look better."

"All right. Thank you." The girl lowered her head.

For a moment, her heart was filled with fear and confusion.

The moment she lost that finger, she had felt a wave of dizziness. Then a Formless Art called [Trigger] had appeared in her mind.

This must have been a gift from that great being.

But...

As she recalled [Trigger], she could not help shuddering again. Every use of this secret art would cost her a finger...