"Sister Haida, do I still need to go in alone?" she asked weakly.
"No."
As she spoke, Haida extended her hand toward Vivian.
"I have news to inform you. You have been permanently assigned to my action team. I hope we can work together pleasantly. Aside from that… Investigator Vivian, welcome to the Burial Chamber."
"Huh?"
Vivian's expression instantly became complex. It was a look mingling bewilderment, struggle, confusion, and on the verge of tears.
But the General Affairs Division's order came from the collective opinion of most Heads. Someone of her status naturally couldn't refuse.
"O-okay. Pleased to work with you, Miss Haida…"
She took Haida's hand, her grip trembling slightly.
Bad news: She now had to join the Burial Chamber's fanatics, dealing with extremely dangerous evil spawn and heterodox cultists every day…
Good news: Sister Haida was really, really tough.
— —
[Far Caress]
[Source: Abyssal Relic (Crafted by Fran Herschel)]
[Effect: Releases a spider-web-like, tentacle-shaped resilient biomatter with moderate controllability. Due to processing and improvements by a certain doctor, this relic has gained reusability, able to restore itself to its initial state after release.]
[Note: "It's just… too awesome!"]
Fran looked quite satisfied, admiring the slender braided bracelet now adorning her pale wrist.
The jet-black, tentacle-like material was twisted together in an intertwined state. From a distance, it looked like an ordinary nylon accessory. Everything was normal, except that it was moving.
This month's house call, besides yielding an Abyssal relic, also brought Fran an increase in Parsing Rate.
After all, opportunities to dissect a living Red Cup High Priestess aren't common… If Sines's condition at the time hadn't been so obviously unsuitable, she actually had somewhat wanted to try putting the things she peeled off from Sines back on.
With Haemunculi techniques, a simple reassembly would have given her a living, High Priestess-grade specimen for her collection.
Oh, what a pity.
Now, Fran's Anatomy Parsing Rate had increased by 0.5%, reaching 79.5%. Clinical Psychology increased by 1%, reaching 20%. And Abyssal Applied Studies rose by 2%, entirely thanks to crafting the relic.
She was fairly satisfied with these numbers.
After all, Anatomy was close to breaking the 80% milestone. The closer the value gets to the peak, the harder it is to increase. Even the forbidden knowledge of a Red Cup High Priestess's physical structure could only provide 0.5% parsing.
But it's fine, any gain is profit.
Technological accumulation is never a matter of a day or a night. Fran had plenty of time; she was always at ease about this.
"Speaking of which, the 'secret arts' of various cults seem to undergo some degree of replacement and iteration. The [Redundant Knowledge Intrusion] secret art used to require reciting a prayer scripture, but now it can be directly inscribed onto a gun… truly a triumph of technology."
Fran was currently lying sprawled in a very inelegant posture on the sofa in the Fog Street Clinic's living room, her body resting on a velvet cushion.
Her long legs were propped on the coffee table, occasionally swaying lightly a few times, the thick-soled little leather shoes tapping softly against the table surface.
"There wasn't enough time back then; I only managed to steal a very small amount of ritual data from Professor Terence's mind… Oh well, might as well compare it with the White Cup's Lumen Creed again. It's a good chance to see the White Cup's development over the years."
Although Fran had said she didn't steal information from Terence's thoughts… but since she was there already, not peeking at something felt odd.
So, she had taken a polite glance at those White Cup secrets.
Fran lazily stretched her waist, pulling the muscles of her abdomen and arms to their limit, then gradually relaxed.
Although this character enters a lazy, power-saving mode when there are no patients and no house calls, it doesn't mean she's completely slacking off. At the very least, she maintains a keen interest in reading all sorts of profound or obscure texts.
"Far Caress."
Maintaining her original posture, Fran reached out towards the tall bookshelf. The chain on her wrist shot out explosively; the black tentacles struck the entire bookshelf, spreading out like a spider web.
Soon, one of the tentacles found the target book. It firmly adhered to it and then sharply retracted.
In an instant, the web-like tentacles returned to Fran's hand with the hefty Lumen Creed, reforming into the slender, delicate bracelet.
"The precision is a bit lacking, with only moderate controllability… but it's still much better than the 'original product,' which had to be manually retrieved and reloaded after firing."
Fran stroked the constantly wriggling black bracelet on her wrist, contemplating new improvement plans.
She slightly narrowed her eyes, then set these thoughts aside, redirecting her attention back to the White Cup Cult's Lumen Creed.
——
The Red Cup's Skin Creed has four volumes in total, the Secrets-Hunter's Ash Creed has three, the Lamp Moth's Twin Creed has two, while the White Cup's Lumen Creed… has only one.
Its name is Essentialism.
This title is the type that makes you feel unfriendly at first glance, and indeed, the reality matches. Its content spans mysticism, philosophy, and mathematics…
Fran spent a very long time on this book and poured countless efforts into it… In the first few days after getting it, she even started losing hair.
So much so that later, when she truly saw the "Lumen Creed" published by the White Cup Cult, she couldn't help but frown with suspicion.
Why were the theories in this thing so superficial? Completely different from what she had read before. Had the White Cup Cult's book been pirated too?
After comparison, she noticed that the copy of Essentialism she obtained from her "consultation fee" was entirely handwritten, with a large number of corrections, scribbles, and annotations negating original theories… It seemed to be the original manuscript.
The compiler of this original manuscript was an obscure, nameless person called Chens. No surname was noted, so his full name was unknown.
Fran greatly admired his talent. If there was a type of person in this world who could be called a "genius," then Chens undoubtedly held a place among them.
But strangely, the person who compiled the creed for the White Cup Cult was neither a former headmaster of the Central Academy nor a renowned sage. His existence couldn't be found in any records.
Was it academic plagiarism, or… some other unspeakable reason?
The first volume of Essentialism very briefly introduced the mystical principles behind the secret arts and rituals of various cults, as well as the basis for their classification.
Rituals that generally only have auxiliary effects, regardless of scale, are classified as "Third-Category," as they lack specific lethality or harm.
Rituals possessing harmfulness and a certain research threshold belong to "Second-Category," like the Red Cup cult's [Summon the Blood Kin] set up in the Sated Club.
The judgment for "First-Category" rituals is extremely simple: any ritual tainted with divine taboos is wholly classified as First-Category.
Secret arts follow the same principle as rituals, but within each category, secret arts are further divided into upper and lower tiers to distinguish between techniques that, while in the same category, have vastly different potency.
…
"Ah, daybreak? It's already the next day?"
Fran placed the Lumen Creed she had been covering her face with to the side, rubbing her amber eyes sleepily, her pale, frost-like long eyelashes slightly sticking together.
She had previously gone several days and nights without sleep to craft the Abyssal relic, and coincidentally chose the extremely profound Lumen Creed as her reading material… so much so that she fell into a baby-like slumber halfway through.
"To have slept straight until noon at twelve, truly sinful…"
Fran took out the Swaying Heart-Clock from her pocket, using it like an ordinary pocket watch to check the time.
Her biological clock was usually adjusted very precisely, but she also quite enjoyed indulging from time to time.
Sleeping until noon had two benefits for her: first, she could skip preparing one meal; second, she could skip eating one meal…
Fran sat up from the sofa and slotted the tome back into the tall wooden bookshelf.
She walked slowly to the door, hanging the "Open for Business" sign on the clinic, then somewhat distractedly gazed at the warm sunlight piercing through the thin mist on the street.
"Nice weather. Winter is about to officially end."
"Speaking of which, Norlington's Central Museum is preparing its Spring Exhibition soon. Since April's house call is already completed, why not go take a look…"
Norlington's March was still in the depths of winter. Just like the day Fran treated Haida, heavy snow would always arrive as promised with the biting wind at a moment when everyone was caught off guard.
But come April, the temperature would visibly rise.
This change was obvious because the breeze brushing past one's ears carried a long-lost warmth, like the lingering warmth deep in one's palms, making one feel slightly intoxicated.
It signaled that the long, icy, vast winter had receded into hibernation, and a new cycle of the year was beginning…
Precisely because of this, many cults had the custom of Plum Moon rituals.
They would hold festive ceremonies at a certain time in April to celebrate the new year. And Norlington Central Museum's Spring Exhibition was, to some degree, the White Cup Cult's "Plum Moon ritual."
These professors from the Academy's high towers would limitedly reveal mysticism to the public, while simultaneously using the greatest space to promote the latest scientific and academic achievements.
The White Cup's ritual doesn't require ceremonies or sacrifices, because the slumbering It does not care.
For the thousand years since the beginning of this era, the only decree the White Cup has issued is to spare no effort in allowing more humans to glimpse enlightenment, to free more independent minds from the shackles of ignorance.
Beyond that, It has issued no further divine edicts. Even quasi-divine apostles can only hear dream-like, meaningless murmurs.
——
Norlington Central Museum, Mysticism Exhibition Area.
Although the White Cup Cult lacked interest in publicly displaying mysticism, this was, after all, the annual Spring Festival. Therefore, they had also made many preparations for this exhibition area, without any perfunctory attitude.
Disrespect for knowledge is equivalent to blasphemy against the White Cup.
Most of this exhibition's items were sample models of auxiliary Third-Category rituals, with the prayer scriptures in the core areas edited. Visitors could only vaguely learn of their general effects through the descriptions below.
Additionally, among the exhibits were some completely harmless "relics."
Because they had passed rigorous stability tests, visitors could even directly touch and interact with these relics; the museum did not object.
Beside an exhibit stand, a young woman dressed in the form-fitting long robe of a Burial Attendant was fiddling with a strange machine resembling an automatic vending machine.
She inserted two standard silver coins into the machine's slot. Soon, it emitted a soft mechanical noise, vibrated for a moment, and then a paper tray popped out from the dispensing slot below.
On the tray sat a steaming piece of pizza, the cheese plump and slightly browned, with a decent appearance.
The young woman, her hand covered in suture lines, picked up the pizza and took a bite.
"Pineapple flavor, of all things…"
Fran slightly narrowed her eyes, seeming rather exasperated.
But out of the most basic respect for food, she still ate the entire slice of pizza. After all, its craftsmanship and seasoning were up to standard, not exactly unpalatable.
This mechanical device was named the "Fully Automatic Meal Dispenser," a relic confirmed harmless by the White Cup Cult and one of the exhibits. The specific introduction was as follows.
[Fully Automatic Meal Dispenser]
[Quality: Common]
[Effect: Insert two standard silver coins, and this machine will dispense a meal for you. The dishes it provides are non-toxic, identical to real food, and their craftsmanship is slightly above average. However, these dishes mostly have strange flavors. Including, but not limited to: 'Strawberry-flavored Mapo Tofu,' 'Stinky Tofu Sweet Rice Dumplings,' 'Milk Tea-filled Soup Dumplings'…]
[Note: "Maybe you can't satisfy everyone, but you can dissatisfy everyone, hehe."]
"Among the aforementioned dishes, pineapple pizza is still a relatively normal type. Should I say I had good luck…"
Fran extended her pink tongue to lightly lick her fingertip, wiping away the lingering hint of sweetness.
The majority of relics in the Mysticism Exhibition Area were similar to this machine, with effects somewhere between useful and useless.
Neurotic, nonsensical, and baffling… but that's normal. Things safe enough to be exhibited are mostly of this nature.
"Secrets-Hunter sister, have you also come to attend the Central Museum's Spring Exhibition?"
An elderly man wearing a faded dark green military coat approached Fran, asking curiously.
"Actually, we were hired by the White Cup Cult to be responsible for security in various exhibition areas. Just now, during my rotation break, I saw an interesting exhibit and decided to try it."
Fran scratched her cheek, lowering her eyes and smiling somewhat awkwardly, like a young nun caught slacking off.
"Haha, thank you, Secrets-Hunters, for your contributions to Norlington's peace and order. Without you, this vast city would probably be hollowed out by heterodox cultists before long…"
"You flatter me. Hunting evil beings, protecting the living—these are the ancient laws the Secrets-Hunters have always followed."
Fran gave him a slight nod of acknowledgment.
The old man clearly noticed her shyness. He smiled kindly, then, leaning on his cane, slowly walked towards another exhibition area.
"The young people of the Secrets-Hunter Cult are really dedicated. This Burial Attendant is so young, yet her hands and neck are covered in sutured wounds… But battles against heretics are that cruel and bloody. Surviving is a blessing in itself."
He sighed with a touch of pity, his aged but unbent figure gradually disappearing into the bustling crowd.
Fran quickly shed the youthful shyness she had displayed towards the old man, reverting to her original relaxed and leisurely demeanor.
She was extremely familiar with this image of an inarticulate young nun; short-term impersonation came naturally. Whether in words or demeanor, she could effortlessly achieve flawless execution without any flaws.
Fran continued her solo tour of the exhibition; she was quite interested in these strange relics.
She could pry into the actual effects of relics through the system's item descriptions. If an exhibit had enough value to pique her interest… then she wouldn't mind sending Norlington Central Museum a Phantom Thief calling card and striking on a dark and windy night.
+++
T/N: Hey readers~! New Translator here! Before I say anything, I'd first like to thank the original author for creating this wonderful story. Without them, I wouldn't have the chance to share this adventure with you. I hope my translation does justice to their work, and that together, we can enjoy this story.
With that said, I'm happy to let you know I'll be uploading daily chapters. And for those who wish to support my work and gain early access, I've set up a Patreon where advanced chapters will be available.
[email protected]/PeakTL