In a cheap hotel near Backlund Bridge in the East Borough.
The room was small and bare. A narrow bed rested against the wall, its sheets folded cleanly but showing clear signs of use. A simple wooden table stood by the small window with one chair placed beside it, leaving just enough space for someone to sit without cutting off the light.
An altar was set up in the center of the room, assembled from the wooden table and cleared of all other items. Four candles formed a neat square on its surface. A small bowl of herbs and ritual materials rested between them, releasing calming scent that barely masked the stale air of the room.
Fors sat on the chair directly in front of the altar, her back straight and her hands resting on her knees. The candlelight reflected in her eyes as she focused on the ritual space, her expression tense and cautious.
Sherlock stood a short distance away, just outside the altar's range. He leaned against the wall with his arms loosely folded.
Fors took a deep breath and entered a state of cogitation, as Sherlock had instructed earlier.
"The Fool that doesn't belong to this era;
You are the mysterious ruler above the gray fog;
You are the King of Yellow and Black who wields good luck."
As Fors intoned the three lines of the honorific name, a faint gray fog materialized around her, radiating an unnerving aura.
The orange candles flame adopted a bluish tinge, casting a sinister, deep glow over the entire altar.
In that instant, Fors' thoughts seemed to decelerate. In a daze, she felt herself drifting back to the majestic old palace above the gray fog, and she saw Mr. Fool sitting high above, looking down at everything. Collecting herself, Fors gave her attention back to Sherlock and followed his lead regarding the prayer. She recited in Hermes, "I implore you. I beseech you to open the Door to your kingdom and bestow your blessing…"
As the ritual culminated, Fors began to draw upon the power of the herbs on the altar.
In the following moment, Her vision blurred, as if a seraph with twelve pairs of luminous wings made of overlapping doors materialized before her
Descending from above, the seraph extended its arms, enveloping Fors in an embrace. The wings of light closed around her, enfolding her layer by layer.
Her body and mind quickly became tranquil. Her thoughts gradually emptied as her consciousness slowly extended and expanded.
Fors soon discovered that she was surrounded by indescribable, illusory, transparent things. All the colors became bright and distinct, yet overlapped with one another. The gray fog had grown so faint that it seemed to cover everything in an ethereal manner.
In the depths, high up in the sky, there were seven rays of lustrous brilliance shining in different colors. They seemed to possess life and contained immense knowledge.
This was the spirit world. It completely overlapped with reality and was omnipresent.
Instead of feeling terrified or experiencing any negative emotions, she only felt comfortable, as if she had returned home.
After an unknown period of time, Fors suddenly awoke from her state. In front of her were only the four candles quietly burning on the altar and the fog that had permeated the entire room. At the tip of her nose was the familiar fragrance of serene etherealness.
Recalling the surreal encounter, it felt like a dream. She couldn't help but murmur to herself, 'Did I just see an angel?' Fors was so lost in thought that she momentarily forgot to end the ritual.
"Miss Fors." Sherlock's voice broke her out of her stupor, and she hurriedly ended the ritual.
"I was successful," she said with a small smile.
"What kinds of abilities do you have?" Sherlock asked.
"I have a lot of them," Fors answered instinctively. Then she blinked. "How do I know that?" she asked, puzzled.
Sherlock chuckled. "This is the nature of the boons we received. We have encyclopedic knowledge of our powers. Otherwise, it would take a long time to figure out how to use our abilities."
"My current Sequence is seemingly called Marionettist. I can manipulate something called spirit body threads to control a target's body."
Fors gulped when she heard that. "So it's basically the power of a puppeteer."
Sherlock nodded, and Fors then explained her own power. "Mine is called Traveller. It lets me teleport through the Spirit World. I can also take another person with me as long as we have skin contact."
"Can you see the real world while being in the Spirit World?" Sherlock asked.
Fors nodded and continued. "Yes, I can. I can also record abilities of other Beyonders and use them myself." Her eyes widened.
"Hm. Can you record the restriction ability cast on Fabian?" Sherlock asked as he looked at the unconscious goon on the ground.
"I think I can?" Fors replied, sounding uncertain.
"I'm going to make him into a marionette. I need you to record the seal inside his body. If you notice any disturbance, I need you to cast it on him immediately."
"Okay!" Fors replied. She definitely felt a little nervous.
She focused, and her hand flashed as an illusory gray pen appeared in her grasp. In her other hand, a piece of blank paper materialized. Her ability informed her that the pen was the manifestation of her soul, while the paper was the manifestation of her spirit body. By using the pen, she could record or copy an ability she observed by writing it into her spirit body. Once recorded, she could use that ability with ease.
She focused on the unconscious Fabian, the goon they had captured, lying on the floor, and her ability activated. His spirit body unraveled before her eyes. It was a beautiful kaleidoscope of color. She forced herself to look away and concentrated only on the ability that had been cast on him.
When she found it, her hand suddenly began to move on its own, writing onto the page she held.
After she completed the recording, she nodded toward Sherlock. He nodded back and extended his arm toward Fabian. Through her spirit vision, she could see black strings emerging from Sherlock's hand and attaching themselves to every part of Fabian's body.
The goon's body suddenly jolted and stood up. His movements were slow, as if his joints had been injected with glue.
"I noticed nothing changing in the ability cast on his spirit body. I can see the strings on him, though. Are you sure the Beyonders under Capim wouldn't notice them as well?" When she finished speaking, she looked at Sherlock.
Sherlock fell into deep thought, then focused. After a moment, the noticeable strings grew thin.
"Now?" Sherlock asked.
"They are basically invisible now," she replied. "I don't think they can notice them anymore."zSherlock then took out a pocket watch from his coat and checked the time. "We have a total of twelve hours with these abilities, so we have to finish our plan within that time."
"So these abilities are temporary?"
Sherlock nodded. "It's a defensive mechanism. When receiving a boon from a high existence like Mr. Fool, we would inevitably become more like Him in personality and mindset. That is why the boon is temporary. We can't risk excessive mental contamination."
He straightened slightly, and sighed. A moment later his tone turned serious. "Now, with all the information we have. The plan is thus. We would send Fabian with a special poison..."
...
In the evening, even at home, Capim, who was wearing a formal bow tie, narrowed his eyes and looked at his subordinates before him. "What's the report?"
"We have two easy targets and one hard one for this batch, Boss." Even though he had been working with Capim for many years, his subordinate still felt fear under Capim's glare.
"Odysseus, call me Mister. Mister. In a few years, you'll have to call me Sir Capim." Capim loosened his bow tie and casually handled a thick cigar.
Capim was about to continue when the door suddenly opened and the middle-aged gentleman with a white wig, Harras, walked in.
He gave Odysseus a cold glance before casting his gaze onto Capim.
"Vardera, the Deputy Chief, along with a Member of Parliament from the House of Commons, is going to be here tomorrow. Prepare the best batch you have for dinner."
"Yes, Mr. Harras." Capim stood up, a cigar in hand. "But Mr. Harras, there is a small problem. We already sent over the finished batch. The newer ones are not fully trained yet."
"Is that my problem?" Harras said, pausing for a moment as he observed Capim's reaction.
"You are not the only human trafficker in Backlund," Harras continued coldly. "We can support you, but we can just as easily support others. You need to remember that.
"The reason I picked you was because you were vicious and shameless enough, It was not because you were the biggest human trafficker.
"Figure out a way to satisfy the client," Harras finished flatly. "I do not care how."
From the side, Odysseus listened to their conversation in silence. He wished he were nothing more than a mass of air, so that he would not have to witness how utterly submissive his boss, Capim, had become.
"Is that so…" Capim said, putting on an enlightened expression. "Then I'm relieved."
He glanced at Odysseus and signaled him to leave. Lowering his voice, he continued, "Mr. Harras, this time there is a type of goods you like in this batch. Do you want to train them personally?"
Harras's expression softened slightly, though no emotion showed on his face. He nodded slowly.
"Send her to my room tonight."
"Yes, Mr. Harras!" Capim replied with a wide smile.
...
At dinner time, Capim walked out of his study, a warm smile plastered over his face once again.
"Ma'am Katy, there's your favorite caviar and a roast chicken specially prepared for you this evening," he said to the woman in her thirties.
The woman was wearing a brown bonnet, a thin white blouse, suspenders, and leather boots that reached her knees.
Katy touched one of the old scars on her face and nodded without saying a word.
Capim knew she was silent and fierce, so he did not continue. He watched her as she took her seat.
Then Harras, a middle-aged gentleman in a black tailcoat and a white wig, with a long, thin, and stern face, entered the dining room, nodding slightly to each of the diners.
The elderly Parker, with wrinkles and a high nose bridge, took a sip of his pre-meal wine. His brown eyes were filled with spirit as he smiled and motioned for Capim to sit down.
The white napkins were spread out, and the food was served one by one. Capim raised his glass and chuckled.
"Holy Lord of Storms, let's toast to a beautiful future."
"To a beautiful future," Parker responded.
Harras did not say a word. He merely held the wine glass in his hand and made a gesture. Katy completely ignored them.
At the same time, The patrolling guards outside the Villa passed by two phantom figures, but they did not react or notice them. Since it was not too late at night yet, there were no Beyonders on duty outside.
Not long after, the phantom figures floated in front of the artificial fountain and approached the villa's entrance at a relaxed pace.
In the spirit world, Fors' spiritual body, holding Sherlock's hand, silently passed through the wall and entered Capim's villa.
The first thing that met them was a spacious hall filled with chairs and clothes racks. Beyond it was a magnificent hall with gold as the main color theme.
There was no ceiling, only a dome reaching three stories high. A giant crystal chandelier hung down, and on each "petal" rested a pearly-white candle.
Through a thick, heavy door to the left of the hall was an elegant dining room. The fragrance of roasted meat was richest inside, masking the smell of alcohol and other food.
Suppressing all her emotions, she swept her eyes across the long table.
The sight of Harras in his white wig, Katy in her thin blouse, Parker with his aged face drinking red wine, the slightly plump Capim slicing her rib eye steak, and Fabian standing by the door guarding it, caught her attention.
"That bearded Belize is not here. He should be changing shifts in the basement. Change of plans, Miss Fors. After distracting Harras, I need you to teleport to the basement and prevent Belize from harming the captive girls and Miss Xio," Sherlock said.
Fors stopped and looked at the intimidating Harras. "Can you handle him alone?"
Sherlock looked at the worried Fors and smiled. "Do not worry about it. I will manage."
He then turned toward the dining table and said, "Now, let's start."
With slight reluctance, Fors let go of Sherlock's hand as they commenced the plan.
…
The marionatte Fabian, who had returned after completing the task and had been assigned as a guard, stood in front of the door. He suddenly slipped a hand into his pocket, took out a small bottle, and discreetly opened it.
After a moment of opening the bottle, he saw Capim raise his hand and scratch his cheek, then scratch again.
"It's a little itchy." Capim smiled apologetically.
Before he could finish his sentence, he scratched once more, leaving a clear bloody mark on his face.
The mark quickly swelled. His skin turned translucent, and yellowish pus could be seen beneath it.
"It's really a bit itchy." Capim smiled again.
He scratched the same spot, but this time he used too much force. The swollen skin split open, and foul-smelling pus sprayed out.
Harras narrowed his eyes and shot to his feet, scanning the room warily.
"Hahaha."
"Haha. Hahaha."
Exaggerated laughter rang out, and Harras's body instantly tensed.
Fabian was clutching his stomach, laughing uncontrollably. He laughed so hard he could not straighten his back. Tears streamed down his face, and as his laughter echoed, the room fell into a strange, suffocating silence.
Like a chain reaction, the remaining servants either fainted or vomited yellow-green liquid without end.
None of them were spared.
Katy flipped the dining table, sending gold-plated cutlery, leftover food, wine, and plates crashing onto the floor.
A revolver and a soft black whip were already in her hands.
Parker stood up as well, but his mind felt adrift. He stared at Capim, who was crying for help while scratching himself and tearing off chunks of flesh. For some baffling reason, Parker found the other man's ugly, disgusting appearance strangely pleasing.
At that moment, Harras felt short of breath. He immediately realized the room was likely filled with poison.
He growled, "Hold your breath!"
"Parker, open the door!"
"Katy, follow me. We'll find the intruder!"
At that moment, Harras felt grateful that the dinner with Capim had included so many attendants.
Ordinary people were far less resistant to poison than Beyonders. The fact that they showed symptoms first allowed Harras to notice something was wrong before the poison reached the deepest parts of their bodies.
'Parker has the lowest Sequence. He should be suffering the most…' Harras thought.
As Parker opened the door and broke the seal of the dining room, Harras focused his Area of Jurisdiction and Supernatural Intuition. They screamed danger, yet provided no clear location.
Relying on Spirit Vision, he finally noticed an illusory figure quietly moving through the room.
The figure was shrouded in pale gray fog. From its silhouette alone, Harras could tell it was a woman.
Harras raised his right hand and pointed at the figure, invisible to ordinary people. He activated the Punishment ability of a Disciplinary Paladin.
"The illegal intrusion into another's home is a crime!"
After establishing the Disciplinary Paladin's Prohibition, he chanted in Ancient Hermes, "Imprison!"
The space around the shrouded figure instantly became viscous, as if it had turned into giant amber or formed a transparent sealed wall.
The figure was rooted in place.
Katy had already taken aim. She pulled the trigger.
Before the bullet could reach its target, the figure vanished.
Suddenly, Harras felt his Area of Jurisdiction collide with another authority. The invisible field that empowered him within familiar territory trembled violently before weakening.
He turned around sharply, and noticed that Parker stood stiffly near the door, his eyes unfocused and glassy. A faint yet unmistakable pressure radiated from him. He was activating his own Area of Jurisdiction, forcefully suppressing Harras'.
A deep frown formed on Harras' face.
He raised his hand, ready to utter the word "Imprison" and restrain Parker on the spot, but to his surprise, a strange, crisp snap, the light from the sixteen elegant gas lamps and the fire burning quietly in the fireplace suddenly lit up, leaving Harras with only a brief flash of red before his eyes.
Soon after, all the flames were extinguished, leaving the dining room illuminated via the human-height street lamps outside the window and the crimson moonlight shining through the layers of clouds. It made the place abnormally dark and silent.
Harras once again relied on his Spirit Vision and spiritual perception to search for what went wrong.
At that instant, Katy moved, An invisible spike stabbed toward Harras' mind. He realized instantly, 'Psychic Piercing.'
Harras grunted and forcibly stabilized his thoughts. The attack failed to fully penetrate his defenses, but a splitting pain still tore through his head.
He spun around, fury flashing in his eyes and prepared to retaliate.
Then his thoughts slowed.
For a brief moment, everything became heavy and viscous, as if his consciousness had sunk into thick mud. Harras immediately sensed that something was wrong and began driving out the sluggishness with sheer mental force.
Someone was controlling and coordinating them with frightening precision.
But the realization came too late.
Before he could completely recover, Katy lashed out with her long black whip and hit Harras accurately.
The long whip passed through his Spirit Body, but it brought a great deal of pain to Harras psyche, as if someone had pressed a red-hot iron to the weakest part of his body.
Harras' vision blurred and his breathing hitched as the second attack curved deeper into his mind. He jerked his head up and let out a scream.
In the corner, Sherlock, who had already taken the antidote for the poison, stood in the darkness as a quiet sigh of relief escaped his lips. As a Marionettist, he had no intention of gambling on a direct confrontation with a Sequence 5 Beyonder of the Justiciar pathway without any marionettes prepared.
When Harras focused on Fors in her spirit form, Sherlock seized the opportunity and brought both Katy and Parker under his command at the same time.
Using the shock factor, Sherlock did not give Harras any time to think or activate his abilities. He controlled Katy to weaken Harras' mind, making him easy to turn into a marionette.
He let out a soft chuckle. "This Sequence is basically a terrifying ambush predator."
He then looked back at the marionette and swept the surroundings with his Spirit Vision, checking whether Fors had returned. When he found nothing, he closed his eyes, extended his arm, and recited the honorific name of Mr. Fool.
In the next moment, gray fog surged from Sherlock's palm. A squirming maggot appeared in his hand. Without hesitation, he stepped forward and pressed it straight into Harras' mouth.
Harras blinked repeatedly.
His expression gradually turned vacant, his breathing evening out as confusion surfaced on his face. Several seconds passed before cognition returned to his eyes.
Sherlock smiled faintly. "You know what to do."
Harras nodded.
Then he smiled back.
It was not a pleasant smile.
...
At the same time, in the basement of the villa.
Belize, who had a full beard, had been keeping an eye on the situation outside when suddenly the captured girls attacked. Leading them was the petite girl with blond hair and green eyes.
After defeating her easily, he was going to shoot her in the head to send a message to the other girls who were not broken in yet.
But to his surprise, he received a command from Harras that an intruder had infiltrated the villa.
He understood immediately: the girl was working with the infiltrators to save the other girls.
He placed the high-pressure steam rifle at the back of her head and started to gloat.
"Hehehe. You are a really stupid girl. You should have waited for whoever you are working with. What made you think you could handle a Sequence 7 while only being a Sequence 9?"
"What are you talking about? I don't…" Then something clicked in her mind. 'Shit! Is it Fors? Did she figure out I got captured?'
"Ah… don't move or I'll shoot."
He activated his Spirit Vision, his eyes scanning left and right. After a moment, he noticed some movement through his vision. "Whoever you are, don't come any closer. If you do, I will shoot her in the head."
"All steam is forbidden to expand!" a commanding woman's voice resounded around the area.
When he heard the voice, his finger pressed the trigger, but nothing happened. The next moment, an elbow struck him in the groin, and a sharp cry of pain escaped his mouth.
Xio rolled and grabbed the high-pressure steam rifle.
"The command is ineffective!" the voice resounded again.
Xio pulled the trigger. White mist erupted from the barrel, and a sharp-tipped pale-gold bullet shot forward at astonishing speed.
The bullet tore through Belize's chest, passed the front door, and flew outside.
Belize fell face first to the ground. Beside him, Fors seemingly materialized from thin air.
"Fors!" Xio jumped and hugged her tightly.
"You're alright. You're alright," Fors hugged Xio back. "You are in such trouble when we get back home! If you do not fear going into reckless danger, then I will make you fear the consequences when you deal with me!" Fors spoke passionately while holding back sobs that threatened to erupt as she hugged her best friend even tighter.
Xio giggled at her friend's threat, even as tears spilled from her eyes. She would have usually objected to something, but Fors' hold around her was so earnest and desperate that it seemed to Xio like her friend was holding on to her as one would to a lifeline. She must have been going crazy with worry. So, Xio stayed silent and simply reciprocated the hug.
Both of them had their tearful reunion.
...
"How… how much do I owe you?" Fors asked, a little scared of what he might demand for an operation like this.
Sherlock smiled and looked at her. His eyes sparkled like stars in the night sky. "Saving innocents with you was enough payment, Miss Fors."
The two of them drew closer and closer. Their lips met, and Fors felt a lightning bolt surge through her mind for the first time in her life.
Her hand moved involuntarily, sliding inside Sherlock's shirt and tracing the contours of his muscular body. She felt his hands travel down her back, cupping her butt with both of them.
Her leg suddenly wrapped around Sherlock's body, while her other hand curled around his neck.
They broke the kiss and stared into each other's eyes. The reflection of the night sky looked stunning within them.
Fors pulled back slightly, putting her legs on the ground. She watched as Sherlock's hand moved toward her clothes. Wordlessly, she allowed him to continue.
Just as she was about to remove all of her clothes in the heat of the moment, a voice interrupted her.
"Fors! Fors! Hey, wake up!"
Her eyes snapped open. She was lying in her bed.
"Ugh! Good morning."
"Good morning."
As her eyes adjusted to the daylight, she noticed Xio standing there in a maid outfit, the kind popularized by Emperor Roselle in Intis. The dress was dark with crisp white frills, a fitted bodice, puffed sleeves, a lace-trimmed collar, and a white apron tied at the back, paired with thigh-high stockings held by frilled garters. Xio was holding a tray in her hand, glaring at her, with her other hand on her hip.
(Image)
A smirk appeared on Fors's face as she looked at Xio. Xio only glared harder. "Are you happy?"
"Yes."
After saying that, Fors got off the bed and was about to go down when she suddenly felt uncomfortable. She looked down and touched her lower body… then realized something.
She was wet. That dream had been far too romantic, dangerous, and tantalizing.
Fors froze, then blushed harder than she ever had before.
"Grrr… why do I have to wear this?" Fors's embarrassment was interrupted by Xio's grumbling as she tugged down the skirt to cover her legs.
"Why? You look cute in this. And it will teach you to be more careful next time."
"Now, where is my breakfast… Maid Xio?" Fors asked teasingly.
With another grumble, Xio put the tray in front of her.
With a smug smile, Fors finished her breakfast and picked up the tea from the tray, blowing on it gently before taking a cautious sip. She let out a small sigh, her shoulders relaxing slightly as she settled back into the bed. Then, setting the cup down, she leaned over to grab the newspaper, her eyes scanning the headlines.
The next moment, she nearly spat out the tea in surprise.
x
Capim Villa Attacked Last Night; Human Trafficking Scandal Shakes Loen Kingdom
On the evening of yesterday, at approximately seven o'clock, Capim Villa became the scene of a sudden and violent assault, leading to the death of the tycoon Capim and everyone associated with him.
Yet, what is more extraordinary than the attack itself is that, in a most astonishing revelation, numerous periodicals, along with the Churches, have obtained incriminating evidence of human trafficking within the Loen Kingdom, perpetrated by a vast and nefarious criminal syndicate. These documents, collectively denominated The Capim Files, lay bare an extensive network of exploitation and abuse directed against the lower classes.
In the wake of this scandal, Vardera, the Deputy Chief, is reported to have taken his own life by a discharge of firearms to the head, following the disclosure of his complicity in the Files.
Several members of both the House of Commons and the House of Lords are likewise implicated. The authorities have announced that legal proceedings are to commence in the days immediately forthcoming.
The Evernight Church has forthwith undertaken measures to safeguard the victims, acting in concert with the Church of the Earth Mother.
The question now arises: who has wrought this deed? Who is the benefactor who has brought forth such illumination in these dark affairs? The sole indication of the hero's identity is the Tarot card affixed to the parcel: the Black Emperor and the Judgement card.
The city of Backlund remains in a state of anxious suspense as it confronts the consequences of these revelations.
x
When she finished reading, she stared blankly at the air. Only the view of Xio in a main outfit cleaning dust broke her out of the stupor. The serene smile Sherlock gave as he told her in his sexy voice, as he threw tarot cards into the body of the human trafficker, "I have sent marionatte Harras to take care of some loose ends, don't worry about it," took a new turn on her eyes.