By the time Silas's carriage arrived at Old Neil's doorstep, night had already fallen deep.
The two-story detached house had lights still glowing through the glass windows on either side of the front door, their glow spilling onto the walkway outside.
They passed through the garden filled with roses and lemon balm, breathing in the fragrant scent of the plants while faintly hearing the sound of a piano from inside.
The music was beautiful and lighthearted, echoing freely through the quiet night.
Can the old man play piano? Wouldn't have guessed.
Silas thought to himself, then noticed that Dunn, Royale, Daly, and others familiar with Old Neil had all changed expressions.
"Old Neil doesn't know how to play piano."
Royale explained in a low voice to Silas.
A chill ran through Silas's heart. Then who could be playing in the middle of the night?
"The spirits around us are very uneasy."
Daly said with her eyes closed, sensing something.
"Indeed."
Crestet said calmly, "Then let's begin."
He didn't enter through the door. Instead, he stood right there on the walkway before the entrance and began to sing softly.
It was a melody without words, pure and flowing. His voice seemed to harmonize with the night itself, and the roses and lemon balm swayed their branches in the evening breeze.
Everything felt so peaceful and serene.
Silas felt his eyelids growing heavy.
Fortunately, he wasn't the target of the song, so after shaking his head slightly, he managed to dispel the drowsiness. He saw something half-transparent drift out from inside Crestet's upturned collar.
It floated forward silently, passing through the front door and entering Old Neil's home.
The piano music inside Old Neil's house gradually stopped.
"Good, we can go in now."
Crestet said flatly.
Impressive.
He subdued the target without making a sound. This is what a high-ranking Deacon can do.
Silas couldn't help but admire him. He followed the others to the front door and, as Royale grasped the handle and pulled it open, the scene inside the house was revealed.
The interior was very clean and tidy, so tidy that it didn't even look like a home where an elderly man lived alone.
Past the entryway with its coat rack and umbrella stand was a spacious living room.
In the center of the living room lay a patterned carpet, and on the carpet sat a heavy round table. Around the table were comfortable sofas, rocking chairs, and a piano.
Silas instinctively looked toward the piano. He seemed to see a transparent figure there.
At that moment, Old Neil was slumped over the round table, his head resting on his arms, sleeping peacefully.
He was quite far from the piano, and there was no one else present.
Behind him, the familiar eerie eye still floated, but now another transparent thing was entangled with it, making it fly up and down, unable to direct its gaze toward Silas.
Silas immediately recognized this as the thing Crestet had released.
He couldn't help but look at Crestet, only to find the man looking back at him.
"Tell me, what do you plan to do next?"
Crestet asked evenly.
On the carriage earlier, Silas had spoken up to say that Old Neil still had a chance of being saved. This wasn't him grandstanding or talking nonsense, but rather a discovery he'd made through several days of observation.
Old Neil, it seemed, hadn't completely degenerated into someone who'd lost control. Through careful confirmation, he'd found that the pair of eyes was only attached to Old Neil's body for now.
Though they were constantly eroding Old Neil's body, they hadn't yet invaded the depths of his spirit.
It was just that Old Neil's defenses had become extremely fragile. Who knew how much longer he could hold on?
"I need two candles and a dagger."
Silas said.
Royale immediately stood and, familiar with the layout, entered one of the rooms in Old Neil's house.
Before long, she emerged carrying two white ritual candles and a silver dagger.
"Until last year, we often visited Old Neil's home as guests."
Facing Silas's inquiring gaze, Royale answered, her eyes somewhat dimmed. "But back then, there was no piano in his house."
Silas said nothing and reached out to take the candles and dagger.
"Captain, I need you to lay Old Neil flat on the floor, then remove his shirt."
Dunn nodded, his expression grave as he supported Old Neil's shoulders and lifted him from the table.
Old Neil was sleeping deeply, his body like mud, offering no resistance. It took Dunn some effort to pull him onto the floor.
He was supporting Old Neil's body and couldn't free his hands, so he frowned, seemingly considering whether to ask Daly or Royale for help with the undressing.
In that instant, Crestet's hand, which was holding the silver-white case, trembled slightly.
Old Neil's clothes suddenly looked as if they'd been cut by sharp, invisible blades. They fell away in countless strips of fabric, exposing his aged and frail upper body.
Suddenly, without his shirt, Old Neil's body twitched slightly, and he hummed a few times, as if feeling the cold.
But his eyes remained tightly shut, unable to wake.
Silas also sat down on the floor. He lit the two candles between Old Neil and himself, then looked at Dunn.
"Captain, you know I've only just become a Nighthawk. My understanding of mysticism isn't deep enough yet. This method was something I reasoned out from the rituals provided in the potion formula, so it might not work. So..."
"It's all right. Just do your best. Whatever 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.
Silas nodded. He then looked at Crestet, who stood silently to the side, and swallowed.
"Um... this method might involve some... questionable powers. Please don't consider me a heretic..."
Crestet stood behind him, looking down with moss-green eyes like a lake at night.
"I'm watching right here. Whether you're a heretic or not, I'll make my own judgment."
That's not exactly a promise.
Silas grumbled internally. He steeled himself and raised the dagger.
"Captain, please step back."
After seeing Dunn retreat a certain distance, Silas moved the dagger through the air, and invisible things spurted from the dagger's tip.
His movements were somewhat clumsy, but he still succeeded in constructing an invisible barrier that separated him and Old Neil from the outside world.
Old Neil taught pretty well. What a shame.
He looked around, thinking to himself.
This barrier was called a Wall of Spirituality. It could separate the inside from the outside, preventing them from affecting each other.
The invisible force being used came from within his body, and in mysticism was called spirituality.
It could be intuitively understood as mental power or spiritual energy.
With the Wall of Spirituality successfully formed, Silas wasted no more time.
Gritting his teeth, he dragged the dagger across his fingertip in a deep cut. Blood immediately welled up.
Hiss, that hurts.
Enduring the pain, Silas placed his bloodied finger on Old Neil's chest and began drawing quickly.
His finger moved rapidly, tracing the simple holy emblem of the True Creator on the skin of Old Neil's chest.
Then, outside the emblem, he drew a small circle that enclosed the holy symbol within.
After finishing, he steadied his mind, then nodded toward Crestet outside the wall.
The latter gestured, and the transparent thing entangling the eerie eye stopped its restraint.
Instead, it passed through the Wall of Spirituality and flew back into Crestet's body.
The giant eye, having regained its freedom, immediately floated upward. It turned its cold and cruel gaze toward Silas.
"Pff."
Blood instantly spurted from Silas's nose.