Sigrid looked around upon hearing this but saw no one else, nor did she sense any spiritual presence.
The Calcite Room was quiet and dim, with only the shadows under the candlelight in the lamp constantly shifting.
Fran wound her pale hair around her index finger, watching Sigrid with interest.
"You won't find Luyala using methods to find ghosts. To see her, you actually just need a pillow."
Not present in reality, needing to sleep to see... so this patient was a dream creature.
Sigrid then remembered a time when Fran suddenly fell asleep inside Fog Street Clinic and woke up with wounds from insect bites and burns on her hands.
"Is it that patient from the dream?"
"Yes." Fran confirmed Sigrid's conclusion.
"Luyala is a cute and friendly patient. She's just in the recovery period after healing and is a bit greedy for snacks. If you see her, Sigrid, just feed her appropriately."
"Hmm... if I get the chance."
Sigrid complied quite obediently. At the same time, she was somewhat curiously puzzled. A dream creature plagued by ants and burning with frenzied fire... how exactly did that relate to the definition of "cute"?
Through their interactions during this period, she had come to know that Fran had a unique set of tastes and aesthetic sensibilities. Although most of the time it was within the normal range, when it came to certain aspects... it could seem absurd and bizarre.
For example, she could judge which of two intestines was prettier and could even provide detailed theoretical justifications...
Fran didn't seem to notice Sigrid's slight internal criticism. She got up from the wooden square chair, holding her waist, preparing to leave the Mirror of Enlightenment Club.
This month's diviner experience was complete. Mrs. Belinda and Dorothy didn't seem to be at the club, and she had no reason to stay any longer.
But she should at least say goodbye to Don before leaving; using [Mist Within the Door] to return directly to the clinic would be somewhat impolite.
—
Secrets-Hunter Cult Headquarters, Burial Court.
Sculptures of past Burial Primuses stood on either side of the deep, dark corridor. The yellow glow of the kerosene lanterns swayed in the wind, causing shadows to shift. Those plaster-carved hunter statues seemed to come to life at this moment.
Beyond the corridor was an empty, wide chamber.
Rapiers, bone saws, spears, halberds, even scythe-like weapons were neatly hung on the surrounding walls. Although they underwent detailed daily maintenance, one could still seem to smell the lingering scent of blood on them.
Of course, they were not torture instruments, but weapons that trial participants might need to use.
Butler, the trial officer of the General Affairs Division, sat upright on the square chair in the very center of the chamber, patiently waiting for today's examinee.
He was not tall, but the firm muscular curves could be faintly seen under his straight, standard-issue hunter uniform, obviously never having neglected training. The most striking were the ferocious scars covering his face, seemingly left by some creature's sharp, fine teeth...
Butler was from Gormouth, a frontier country bordering the Abyssal Sea.
Evil Spawn ran rampant in Gormouth, heterodox cults acted without restraint, and ancient creatures swimming in the depths under the icy ocean also coveted the warm, living flesh on land... Although the country could maintain basic stability, that was about it.
Small fishing villages there often vanished without a trace. Did they perish from natural disasters, or became sacrificial lambs for nameless heterodox cults? No one knew, and no one cared.
Because of this, an old proverb circulated in Gormouth: "Those who feed on the Abyssal Sea will also be fed upon by it"... It was a sea that ate people.
In comparison, Norlington was almost a fairy-tale city. Although most people still worried about making a living, at least they didn't have to worry about "survival."
"The Burial Primus's daughter. Slayer of a Red Cup Acolyte, slayer of several Red Cup Priest remnants, and wounder of a 'Cup's Servant'... And all this happened successively within a few months this year. Hah, quite an impressive record."
With some admiration, Butler put down the documents on Haida.
Although he knew about the series of events since the "Plum Moon Ritual" this year through some archival files, he still found it hard to believe. Not to mention an ordinary Head Burial Attendant, even if you combined the achievements of a senior supervisor over decades, it would be hard to match these simple few lines.
Therefore, even though Butler trusted his colleagues, he couldn't help but have doubts about this.
He was eager to cross swords with Haida, to test her mettle. To see if this Burial Attendant was a fool trying to rely on her father's empty fame for promotion... or a Secrets-Hunter truly qualified to become a supervisor.
Tap, tap, tap.
The rhythmic sound of leather boots lightly touching the ground echoed in the corridor.
Ignoring the faint, almost imperceptible gazes and scrutiny from the dozens of different Chief Hunter statues on either side, Haida walked to the end of the corridor and pushed open the chamber door.
Clang!
The moment the door opened, a pitch-black saw cleaver, its blade spinning, was hurled towards her.
No self-introduction, no exchange of greetings. The moment Haida stepped into the room, this supervisor promotion trial had already begun.
"It seems this trial officer is impatient."
Haida tilted her head slightly, avoiding the blade by a hair's breadth.
The saw cleaver embedded itself in the solid wood door panel beside her, sinking in nearly a third, showing the strength behind it.
"Excellent!" Butler laughed almost wildly. "Excellent..."
"And this?"
He abruptly stood up from the square chair, lunging forward, swinging another saw cleaver at Haida.
Haida had not brought the power sword 'Nirvana' on this trip. Of course, even if she had, she wouldn't use it. That sword, worthy of being called a relic, could easily tip the scales of strength... Facing a colleague, she preferred to rely purely on her own strength.
The distance between the two was now mere inches. With no room to avoid it, Haida quickly drew her wooden-handled clasp knife from under her nun robe to parry.
The wooden-handled clasp knife, like a ceremonial object, clashed head-on with the heavy saw cleaver, emitting a piercing sound of tearing metal.
Even a hurried parry and counterattack had this level of strength? So powerful, so strong...
Feeling that the saw cleaver couldn't advance even another inch, Butler felt surprise... and also genuine joy.
She should be this strong, or rather, she must be this strong!
A hunter capable of taking a Red Cup Priest's head would be a laughingstock if she couldn't even manage this much.
Butler used his other hand to pull out the earlier saw cleaver embedded in the door, swinging it at Haida again.
The wind whistled, the black saw teeth emitted a sharp sound tearing through the air; it seemed flesh would instantly turn to fragments upon contact.
Rich combat experience, attacks carrying strong killing intent, and strength obviously superior to ordinary people. This trial officer must come from a dangerous region in a foreign country... While fighting urgently, Haida also quickly analyzed her opponent.
Neither side used relics or secret arts, only strength and skill in a life-or-death struggle. This sense of direct confrontation also excited Haida.
She felt her flowing blood boiling, her exhaled breath carrying a hint of heat.
Clang!
The sharp sound of metal clashing rang out again, but it seemed different from before... Besides the metallic reverberation, there was a grating sound that set one's teeth on edge.
"You!"
Butler's pupils suddenly dilated, his eyes filled with disbelief.
In a fleeting moment of daze, a wooden-handled clasp knife etched with obscure patterns was already poised at his neck.
Butler wasn't shocked because he lost. He was shocked by... the way Haida had won.
She had bitten the blade of the saw cleaver with her teeth!
(T/N: Aura Farming moment)
The moment she controlled the weapon with her molars, Haida swung her other wooden-handled clasp knife at his neck. If this were a real fight, his head would probably be her trophy...
A simple yet violent solution, completely outside the realm of common sense.
Although he hadn't activated the secret art [Blood Burn], Butler had used his full strength in that swing. If an ordinary person tried to bite his weapon, the result should be their entire jaw along with their skull being smashed.
"Have I passed, Trial Officer?"
Seeing the trial officer stop and fall into stunned silence, Haida also sheathed her two wooden-handled clasp knives.
Butler nodded silently, with a sense of lingering regret, but ultimately placed the two heavy saw cleavers back on the weapon rack.
"Does the victor need acknowledgment from the vanquished? Sister Haida... If this weren't an assessment, my head should probably be hanging from your belt as a trophy."
"Without a doubt, you achieved full marks."
"Trial Officer, there's no need to humble yourself. If we each used relics and secret arts, the outcome would still be uncertain."
Haida responded with some comforting words.
"Uncertain? I'm afraid I'd lose even more cleanly and decisively."
Butler mocked himself, his expression becoming somewhat downcast.
"I actually lost without even lasting three rounds. It's true, once you pass forty, you hit a midlife crisis. I suppose in another forty or fifty years, I'll be as old and decrepit as that Black Banyan guy..."
Hearing this, Haida's expression turned subtle, and she narrowed her eyes slightly.
"Trial Officer, do you know Supervisor Black Banyan?"
"Yes. We've collaborated on hunts a few times. Although this guy became increasingly aged due to the side effects of 'Death Banyan,' he's still lived longer than many colleagues who died unexpectedly. Is it misfortune or luck?"
Butler sighed.
"I heard he withstood a 'Cup's Servant' during the Plum Moon Ritual and was seriously injured. He was rescued, I think?"
"...Yes. He's very healthy now."
Haida wasn't quite sure how to explain Black Banyan's current condition, so she simply agreed for now.
"Hah, facing something like that and still not managing to die gloriously, so it seems Black Banyan really is just going to die of old age. I should find time to visit him."
As he spoke, Butler took a brass ring from a wax-sealed envelope and handed it to Haida. It was the token representing "Supervisor."
"Regardless, congratulations on your promotion. You are now the youngest supervisor, Sister Haida."
Reciting the prayer to the God-Hunting God, Haida took the brass ring representing supervisor and put it on her index finger.
"...I will remain silent and cautious, to uphold the order of the mortal world, see through illusions and false separations, and renew the name of the God-Hunting God. I will not betray the blood of the hunt, nor profane the oath of the chase..."
After completing the supervisor promotion process, Haida left the trial chamber.
Although the public affairs of the Secrets-Hunter Cult were always concise and efficient, the handover of supervisor authority still required some time. And she had to frequently visit Fog Street Clinic these days for physical examinations by Dr. Fran... Quite busy.
Butler glanced at the saw cleaver he had used earlier, the one that had been bitten. On the blade forged of hardened steel, a row of tooth marks could faintly be seen.
"If I didn't know Sister Haida was the Chief Hunter's daughter, I might even suspect whether she was human or not."
Just as he was muttering to himself, a tall, burly figure slowly approached.
The supervisor of the General Affairs Division, Alwin.
"My advice is, don't define Haida by the stereotype of 'the Burial Primus's daughter.' It's unfair to her."
He had his hands behind his back, unhurriedly coming to sit in the square chair at the center of the room.
"Why not? Isn't it an honor?"
Adhering to the spirit of asking when you don't understand, Butler inquired of Alwin.
"If being a father required an exam, Ahern would definitely fail. Oh, that's not quite accurate... He simply wouldn't attend the exam. Haida was a complete 'blank paper.'"
"That... does fit the Chief's habits. Once he starts hunting Evil Spawn, he completely loses himself."
Butler tried but couldn't imagine Ahern taking care of a child... He always seemed to maintain that terrifying indifference.
"The reason Haida didn't become a fanatic like her father is thanks to Ms. Marian... She almost single-handedly took on all the child-rearing."
Alwin's gaze was complex, as if recalling some distant past.
"If she hadn't died, would Ahern have lost so much of his humanity?"
Almost imperceptibly, he let out a light sigh.
—
—
"Open your mouth, ah... good. Hold that."
Fog Street Clinic.
Haida was lying on a medical recliner in the surgery room, keeping her mouth open, allowing Fran to insert a dental probe and her fingers deep under her tongue, meticulously examining her molars and alveolar bone.
"Beautiful morphology. No cavities, no inflammation or scars, gum color is healthy too. But there are some injuries..."
"Moderate enamel wear, slight periodontal membrane tearing, causing some tooth loosening. Fortunately, your jawbone is hard, showing no signs of injury."
"Although bones and teeth are both composed of calcium, the calcification methods for the two organs are different. However, the [Bone Strengthening Organ] can still promote their self-healing... Probably no need for additional 'remineralization therapy.'"
After the examination, Fran took off her medical gloves, then took out her own handkerchief to wipe the residual saliva from the corner of Haida's mouth.
"Why did you think of using your teeth to bite a saw cleaver? Too reckless."
"It was the fastest way to win the fight."
+++
(T/N: Haida is unsurprisingly cute.)