Chapter 26: The Pursuit
In the Braveheart Bar, Kaspars limped past the counter and made his way to the kitchen. Pausing, he lightly tapped on a discreet door. After receiving permission, he slipped inside.
It was a card room. More than a dozen people sat around a table playing poker. When Kaspars entered, the players froze mid-motion. Silence fell. Slowly, a man in a white shirt and black vest rose to his feet. This man was none other than Maric of the Temperance Faction, surrounded by his cadre of animated corpses.
Even though Kaspars had seen scenes like this before, his scalp still tingled. Swallowing hard, he forced out his words.
"Mr. Maric, I've got news about Jason. Recently, he killed several people in the Cherwood Borough. A friend told me the case has been handed over to the Mandated Punishers."
The pale Maric gave a slight nod. "When did this happen?"
"The disappearances started last week, but it wasn't until today—around noon—that a detective helped the police find an alley full of shattered human remains. Then the case was passed to the Punishers." Kaspars explained in detail, then excused himself.
After he left, Miss Sharon's spectral figure materialized beside Maric. Propping her chin in her hand, she asked in her usual calm tone, "What do you think, Maric?"
"Jason may have sustained severe injuries in a previous encounter, making it harder for him to resist his bloodlust," Maric replied evenly. Although he said may, his tone was certain.
"He's never bothered trying to resist," Sharon said, pale and beautiful, her voice quiet but assured. "The injuries would only made him hungrier, faster."
"The Indulgence may indulge, but they aren't fools. Jason wouldn't risk killing in Cherwood unless he was confident he could evade both the Mandated Punishers and us," Maric reasoned.
"I'll head there and stay near the Punishers' team," Sharon said as her body faded, her voice turning ethereal.
"Be careful. The Punishers' leader in Backlund carries a Sacred Artifact—and Jason may have already called for backup," Maric warned the empty air.
"I know," Sharon's disembodied voice drifted back faintly.
---
On Saturday morning, since the abandoned manor in the northern suburbs had been sold—and with a certain specter possibly residing there—Enber and Xio wisely decided not to practice shooting there again.
Fortunately, thanks to Enber's assistance in solving two missing-persons cases, he had earned some favor with Sergeant Fassin and secured permission to use the police shooting range.
As before, the outspoken Officer Aetris welcomed them and led the pair down to the underground range.
"Who's this lady? Your fiancée? What's she doing here?" Aetris eyed Xio in confusion. He had never seen anyone bring a woman to the range before.
"She's my shooting and combat instructor," Enber replied, casting Aetris a glance. The officer looked weary today, his sharp words lacking their usual bite.
"Oh, so you've found a clever excuse to slack off." Aetris scoffed, though without his usual enthusiasm. Normally, he would've had plenty more quips lined up.
There's no need to dwell on the details of practice. Suffice it to say, Xio was pleased—this time she didn't have to pay for the bullets.
Afterward, they moved on to combat drills. Enber asked Xio for pointers on swordplay. While she wasn't an expert, she did know the basics; swordsmanship was part of knightly training, after all.
Time slipped by as Enber repeated his strikes again and again. At noon, after parting ways with Xio, he stopped by Grant's clothing shop. With the investigation now concluded, it was time to update Jane.
Seeing him enter, Jane immediately sensed he had something to say. As the shop wasn't a convenient place, she led him to a nearby café.
"Enber, do you have the results?" Jane asked anxiously.
"Yes. Your father isn't sneaking off to an affair… He's been doing volunteer work," Enber replied carefully. Handling corpses could, in a sense, be considered volunteer work—so he wasn't lying.
"Volunteer work? In the middle of the night?" Jane's brows furrowed. Her tone turned sharp. "What, volunteering to comfort lonely widows?"
What a biting remark… Enber thought. Thankfully, he was prepared. Calmly, he answered, "He's helping the poor in the Eastern District—giving them a place to rest. Even if that rest comes after death."
"Then why go at night?" Jane pressed.
"Because it's only at night that the homeless truly need shelter," Enber explained.
"…Is that so? Then I must've misjudged him! No wonder he mentioned renting vehicles for nighttime trips, even though he's been so busy with the new store opening. I thought he was doing it for a mistress!"
Trusting Enber completely—or perhaps simply wanting to believe her father was innocent—Jane quickly accepted his explanation.
After wrapping up her request, Enber returned to his studies. Time flew, and soon it was June 12th.
---
That Tuesday morning, Enber spent his time at the public library. Today, he read a copy of Revelations of the Night.
Though technically a follower of the God of Knowledge and Wisdom, he knew it was wise to understand the teachings of the Goddess—especially in Loen.
"The Creator awoke from chaos, shattered the darkness, and made the first light. Sacrificing Himself, He transformed into the universe. His body became the earth and stars, His eyes the sun and the crimson moon, His blood the oceans and rivers, nurturing life… His lungs into Elves, His heart into Giants, His liver into Treefolk, His head into Dragons, His kidneys into Feathered Serpents, His hair into Phoenixes, His ears into Magic Wolves, His mouth and teeth into Chimeras. His remaining fluids formed Sea Monsters, whose essence became Nagas. His stomach, intestines, and wicked parts birthed demons, evil spirits, and other unnameable beings. His spirit became the Eternal Blazing Sun, the Lord of Storms, and the God of Knowledge and Wisdom…"
As Enber read, a thought stirred within him.
'If everything in this world stems from the Creator, then all things trace back to Him. With enough knowledge and a sufficiently advanced Pure White Eye… could I one day see beyond any entity's origin—tracing them all the way back to the First?'
The moment he had this thought, his Pure White Eye activated on its own. His mind and spirit sank into a wondrous state as faint, fragmented sounds echoed in his ears.
To his surprise, something within him dissolved and merged into his spirit under the Eye's influence.
It was a unique, indescribable sensation. Enber half-closed his eyes, quietly savoring it. At that moment, he didn't need anyone to tell him. He knew—he had fully digested the Reader potion.
"Two weeks," Enber murmured.
---
Meanwhile, in the southwest of Cherwood Borough, a violent battle raged—yet not a single alarm was raised.
The Mandated Punishers were chasing the Indulgence Zombies of the Rose School of Thought.
At the head of the flight was Jason, the hedonist ghoul. Black spots marred his face like half-healed wounds, and his eyes brimmed with malice.
He moved faster than a steam train, crossing entire streets in a blink. Yet no matter where he ran, a powerful force sealed the area, cutting him off from escape. Two Mandated Punishers closed in.
Both were Wind-blessed, gales swirling around their bodies as they flew.
Another volley of wind blades tore into Jason's flesh. He gritted his teeth, zig-zagging desperately, searching for an opening. The black spots on his face swelled, putrid liquid threatening to seep through.
Wherever he passed, puddles froze solid and leaves withered mid-fall, crumbling before they touched the ground.
Finally, after circling the entire area, Jason spotted a gap in the barrier. Ecstatic, he forced himself through, tearing a breach and leaping toward freedom.
What he didn't notice were the chilling smiles on the Wind-blessed above.
A bolt of silver lightning crashed down, blasting a chunk of rotten flesh from his body. One strike left him on the verge of collapse.
So it was a trap after all… Jason realized too late.
The two Punishers dove for the kill. But at that moment, a werewolf burst through the gap, scooping Jason onto its back and fleeing with astonishing speed. Ignoring the furious strikes raining down, it carried him away.
The Wind-blessed could only watch helplessly. Their flight speed was no match.
The barrier shattered. In an instant, the frozen puddles, withered leaves, and every trace of battle faded, as though nothing had ever happened.
"Captain, we're sorry. They got away," the Wind-blessed reported shamefully as their leader materialized.
"I underestimated them. I didn't expect the Rose School to send a wraith to delay me," the captain said gravely.
On a nearby street, a certain wraith retreated silently through the glass of a window, leaving no trace.
Elsewhere, the badly wounded werewolf collapsed, no longer able to move. Jason, now somewhat recovered, heaved him onto his back and leapt into the rear garden of a nearby clothing shop…
(End of Chapter)