Seeing this, he frowned, "Did they see me?"
He turned away, leaning his back against the dark-green lamp-post. For a moment, he lost sight of Selena's home.
By the time Ulrich looked toward Selena's home again, the mysterious shadow was nowhere to be seen.
What was that? Where did it go? For a second, he can't help but believe the affliction of spiritual weakness caused him to hallucinate. In fact, this was one of the supposed side effects listed in the book.
However, his thought stopped when a sound came from behind him.
"Looking for me?"
Ulrich froze, his face darkening as his feet leaped away from the lamp post. The sudden appearance of the voice chilled his heart.
Without any hesitation, he raised his revolver, aiming at the source of the voice.
"Quick reaction, you have."
It was a man, middle-aged, with a distinct sideburn and short hair. What caught Ulrich's attention wasn't his frayed appearance, but the strange look in his eyes. There was a crazed feeling from it, one that was difficult to put his finger around.
"Who are you? Why were you inside that house?" He muttered, soft and quiet, his hand gripping tight onto the revolver's handle.
Facing the end of the barrel, the man smiled.
"Lewis Smith." He curtly nodded, then bowed slightly. His attitude was exceptionally friendly, to the point that Ulrich found it unsettling.
Seeing this, his sense tingled, as though it was warning him. However, before he could process this unsettling feeling, Lewis's figure flickered—disappeared right in front of Ulrich's eyes.
How? He was just in front of me! Immediately, Ulrich realized this person was not ordinary. Perhaps he wielded some sort of supernatural powers.
This realization almost froze him, but instinct kept him in a composed state of mind.
Tuk.
Ulrich swung his back, aiming his revolver toward the source of the sound.
There it was—Lewis Smith, leaning against the backdrop of the flickering shadow created by the lamp-post.
Bang.
Without any hesitation, Ulrich pulled the trigger.
The bullet tore through empty air. Lewis vanished the moment the bang went off, his form dissolving like smoke. The shot echoed down the empty street, reverberating between the rows of silent houses.
Ulrich's sense pricked him, like whispers, voices, which beckoned his ears—left. Immediately, he threw himself sideways.
Ulrich looked around, finding Lewis leaning against the lamp-post, exactly where he was standing before.
"Impressive," Lewis said, tilting his head with that unsettling smile. "Most people can't follow me at all. They just stand there, confused, until..." He made a gentle slicing gesture across his throat.
"What do you want?" Ulrich kept his voice steady, though his heart was cold and tense.
Five shots left. He counted inwardly.
"Nothing." Lewis spread his hands in a genial gesture. "I was merely curious."
Curious? What could Selena have or done that would warrant such curiosity from this person? Ulrich didn't believe it was that simple.
The silence stretched between them, thick and oppressing. The lamp-post behind Lewis cast his shadow long across the cobblestones, a dark stain that seemed to pulse with each flicker of gaslight.
Lewis took a step forward. A rather casual step.
However, that was enough to clench Ulrich's jaw. His 'sense' screamed at him.
This man is dangerous! He is most likely a Weaver. If so, what other abilities has he not shown? What Path was he? What runes did he use to awaken?
"You're sweating," Lewis observed, his voice soft, almost kind. "Your hand is shaking."
It wasn't. He knew that for certain.
I have handled firearms for so long, even if my hands want to tremble, they could not!
But the words made Ulrich hyper-aware of every minute tremor in his body, every breath that came just slightly too fast.
"I've seen men like you before," Lewis continued, circling slowly to the left. "You think you're prepared. You think having a gun makes you safe."
His smile widened.
"It doesn't."
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
Ulrich turned with him, keeping the revolver trained on Lewis's chest. But his mind skipped a beat.
Five shots. Five chances. And this man could disappear faster than he could pull the trigger.
The street was empty. There were no witnesses. Despite the commotion from the first two shots, no one seemed to notice. This further made Ulrich uneasy.
"Tell me," Lewis said, stopping his slow circle. "Do you believe in fate?"
What is with this sudden question? Do all Weavers share this trait of being weird and talkative, often speaking in a roundabout manner?
"I don't." He spat, not in contempt, but rather, a will of belief in oneself, not through the divine.
"I believe," Lewis said, answering his own question, "In the Great Lord below the Depths, the twilight of all things."
He left the sentence in the air, letting it float away on the cold breeze.
The Great Lord below the Depths? The rumored Depths, the Underworld, and the spirit world? This person is an evil god worshipper!
Immediately, he wanted to run toward St. Samuel and report this person for blasphemy and heresy, but held himself back.
"I..." Ulrich's voice came out hoarse, helpless. "I don't want trouble. I was just passing through."
Lewis's eyes lit up—that crazed gleam intensified. "Oh?"
"I don't know anything about Selena. I don't care what you were doing in there." Ulrich let the gun drop, just an inch. His hand trembled—but this time, it was deliberate.
"Just... let me go."
The silence that followed was deafening. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.
Lewis tilted his head, studying Ulrich like a cat watching a wounded snake. Then, slowly, that unsettling smile spread wider across his face.
"You almost had me convinced," Lewis said softly. "Almost."
But he moved anyway.
Lewis's eyes glimmered, seeing what he wanted to see—a broken opponent, guard lowered, fear struck.
His figure disappeared.
The world slowed. Ulrich's 'sense' exploded with warning—behind, always behind—
When Lewis reappeared, there was a silver light in his hand, a blade catching the lamplight as he swung it toward the back of Ulrich's neck.
"An unfortunate soul, let the Great Lord bless you in the depths!" His voice was exultant, victorious—
However—Ulrich's smile came first.
Then he spun.
The revolver was already raised, already aimed, the sight aligned perfectly with Lewis's chest. There was no hesitation in Ulrich's eyes —no fear, no trembling, just cold, calculated movement.
Lewis's expression shifted from triumph to shock in the space between heartbeats. He tried to flicker away, to dissolve into shadow—
Bang.
The shot rang out, louder than before. This time, the bullet found flesh.
Immediately, blood spurted from his artery, staining Ulrich's clothes. Ulrich's reaction was blank; he had seen this sight countless times in the dream. Yet, even then, seeing it in the real world felt slightly different.
However, he quickly shook it off and fiddled with the coin in his pocket.
Did he only have 1 spell? Or did I catch him off guard? He examined the corpse with scrutiny. Quite frankly, he felt that it was too easy.
But again, Ulrich's definition of 'easy' was entirely different from the norm. As a matter of fact, Ulrich was not normal, he had some 'experience' regarding Weavers. He knew they had limits, and as long as he acted decisively around these limits, Ulrich was confident he would win.
Ulrich remained cautious after shooting the man in the heart. With careful steps, he walked toward the lifeless corpse and nudged it with the end of his revolver barrel.
Dead, but I can't be sure. He pointed the revolver toward the corpse's head, then put his finger on the trigger.
Bang.
The world of mysticism is mysterious and bizarre in ways he could not grasp yet. To make sure there was no problem, an extra bullet was well spent.
Perhaps there is a spell that can allow revival in some manner… I need to be thorough in my actions. He noted mentally. Out of curiosity, he decided to perform a divination on the spot.
With his current experience, entering resonance was rather easy. After about thirty seconds, he closed his eyes and flicked the coin in the air.
Lewis Smith is dead. He repeated in his mind. Immediately, that familiar sensation of weakness came.
Clink. Clink.
He snatched the coin mid-air, then opened his hand to reveal the engraving of the Union Republic crossed anchors.
Seeing the result, he froze.
Not dead? He muttered, staring at the corpse beneath his feet. The surrounding was quiet, not a single person came, as though it was just him alone in the world. This feeling was suffocating, like being caged within a box.
Was it his fake name? No, that can't be… He thought and started searching the man's body.
Lewis didn't have much on his person. The most important thing was the identification, stamped by the Union.
The rest were miscellaneous and seemingly random—a pendulum, a brass ring, three pounds, and a stained note.
The identification was not mistaken; it belongs to "Lewis Smith" with his date of birth. If this body is Lewis Smith, and he is lifeless right under Ulrich's feet, then why is Lewis Smith not dead in accordance with his divination?
Is my divination wrong? No… The first attempt was correct, the second and third is also correct. My divination cannot be wrong… This illogical result left him confused.
At the same time, he recalled his initial divination regarding his own safety when investigating Selena's absence.
The only explanation is that there is someone, or something, which interferes with my own divination in a manner I cannot detect... Only this can explain why, despite my own divination, I still encountered danger... This can also explain why I cannot truly divinate Lewis Smith's state even while standing on his corpse.
Subconsciously, Ulrich shivered, turning his head to glance at the empty street. He quickly shook off that sticky feeling and turned toward Lewis's corpse to pick up the note.
It was stained with blood, leaving only half readable.
"The prophet has requested the securement of the 'thing'... Unfortunately, it was lost after entering Port Ratt… I request the help of the Bishop, codename L."
Reading this, Ulrich fell into deep thought.
The prophet? He recalled Lewis's strange prayer regarding "Great Lord" and "Twilight of all things". Is it related to the rumored illegal organization that terrorizes the eastern luminant?
The Twilight Order… He went stiff thinking of this name. The involvement of this evil organization cannot be understated. Now that he realized the severity of the matter, he quickly moved to clean the crime scene.
The pendulum and brass rings… I will keep them for now.
Regarding the cleanup, Ulrich was exceptional. Almost all of his traces were erased. By the time he finished, it was already past 11. This process only took him a good twenty minute.
After making sure it was done, he left Euston Street.
Ulrich stopped by the police station and left an anonymous tip through a written note.
The content of the note was rather simple—There is a suspicious individual loitering around 51st Euston Street, and he has a weapon on him.
He believed that the officers would dispatch someone to check out this 'tip'. In the process, they will discover Lewis Smith's body not far from her home, which will prompt them to perform an investigation, potentially sealing the area entirely.
This would implicitly direct their 'eyes' toward her home.
In a way, that can be considered a form of protection.
After this minor report, Ulrich returned to the safe house on Lower Darwin Street. The existence of 'Weavers', his encounter with Lewis, the bizarre divination result, and finally, the involvement of the Twilight Order alarmed him.
I need to find the complete shadow rune in the dream or elsewhere … This dream is also the only place where I can safely experiment without worrying about risks in the real world! Only with sufficient means can I maintain a foothold in this terrifying world...
By the time Ulrich secured the room, it was already half past twelve. With the little time left, he rested his eyes. Eventually, midnight arrived, and Ulrich fell asleep.
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