Establishing contact with the "True Creator"—the evil god worshiped by the Aurora Order—through magic mirror divination had brought Angel face-to-face with this notorious deity.
Fortunately, the magic mirror and the spirit world it connected to stood between them.
The instant she sensed the threat, she'd immediately used her staff substitute to bear the Creator's corruption. For safety's sake, she'd even activated the Magic Pocket Watch, using flame jumping to escape the scene.
Otherwise, even a mere touch of the "True Creator's" aura would have turned her into a pile of rotting flesh within seconds, or transformed her into a bloodthirsty monster like the rats and crocodile in the sewers.
But even having fled the safe house, Angel still knelt at the street corner, trembling all over. Her entire body felt as if it had been sliced by knives—the pain nearly unbearable, almost making her want to roll on the ground. Her exposed hands showed protruding veins and darkened skin, and surely her face and body—which she couldn't see—were the same.
Fortunately, having experienced near loss of control several times before, she managed to suppress her spiritual turbulence through meditation. The remnants of her rationality prevented her from actually rolling on the ground; she merely curled up, gritting her teeth against the pain and discomfort throughout her body.
After an unknown period, the gas streetlight overhead seemed to grow blazing hot. The ravings and evil thoughts flooding Angel's mind gradually receded, and the pain in her body slowly faded.
She raised her head, only then realizing her entire body was drenched in sweat. Her face was covered with perspiration mixed with what might have been tears or saliva, dripping from her chin.
Wait—the overhead... the gas lamp?
Angel, just regaining her senses, was nearly frightened into unconsciousness by the flame overhead—more terrifying even than the True Creator. She scrambled away on hands and knees, distancing herself from the faintly glowing street lamps lining the alley, finally stopping only after retreating into the pitch-black shadows.
"So ten minutes had already passed... but it felt like only an instant to me."
Moving her gaze away from the lamplight at the alley entrance, Angel murmured. The recent near-loss-of-control experience had destroyed her sense of time—she hadn't even realized when she'd fallen under the Magic Pocket Watch's negative effects.
"Ugh, where is this? How long has it been?"
Shaking her throbbing head, Angel rose from the floor, only then discovering she'd been lying on the carpet. Sunlight was already streaming through the curtains into the living room, warming her entire body.
As blood flow and memory returned to her mind, she recalled what had happened last night.
Enduring the Magic Pocket Watch's negative state, Angel had taken a full two hours to walk a route that normally took twenty minutes, avoiding lamp-lit streets to reach her home.
After removing the Ring of Madness she'd worn all day and tossing it aside, she'd been too exhausted to address the various desires overflowing within her. She'd simply collapsed on the living room carpet and slept through the night.
Now the sun was high in the sky. The twelve-hour negative state would soon dissipate, but the physiological needs accumulated from wearing the Ring of Madness all day had become increasingly urgent. Her stomach felt as if a giant hand were churning inside it, with gastric acid threatening to digest her from within.
No, this isn't entirely the ring's negative effect—I really haven't eaten in almost a day...
After quickly changing out of the mud-covered clothes she'd rolled in and taking a shower, Angel—not daring to light a fire for cooking—filled her stomach with bread and butter, satisfying her hunger. Only then did she have time to reflect on last night's magic mirror divination incident.
Without doubt, that intensely familiar evil aura was extremely similar to Megose in Tingen City and the "evil god's spawn" in her belly, and those filthy ravings matched Megose's "Blasphemous Words."
From subsequent analysis, she could deduce that Mr. C—whom she'd encountered at the park in the North Borough—had been plotting to summon the evil god he worshiped: the "True Creator." The results of this divination could now be confirmed.
But the question remained: why did divining about the mutated animals involve the "True Creator" to the point of suffering His merciless counterattack?
Perhaps it couldn't even be called a "counterattack"—it was merely the "natural phenomenon" that occurred when directly facing an evil yet powerful existence, caused by the gap in status and strength. The church scriptures specifically mentioned "do not look directly upon gods," not only out of worship and reverence for the divine, but also for safety reasons.
Their divinity was naturally harmful to ordinary beings, even without any purpose or exertion of will.
And the bronze-skinned man who appeared in the divination—likely a member of the Aurora Order—why would he use his own blood to contaminate the sewers and create mutated animals? Was his blood connected to the "True Creator"?
If it were for sacrifice to his lord, for killing people, creating mutated animals to harm ordinary citizens would be far too inefficient. Moreover, it would easily be discovered by official Beyonders. Even if they couldn't trace it back to him, they would kill the mutated animals to prevent more casualties.
Right—official Beyonders! I can report this and let them handle it!
Having been a Nighthawk for two months, Angel had nearly forgotten about the option of reporting. She'd forgotten that when she first came to this world, she'd contacted the Nighthawks through a report and dealt with Madam Sharon.
She might lack the strength now, but official Beyonders would show no mercy toward evil gods and their followers.
Determined to act, Angel went to her study. Using her left hand to write, she awkwardly composed a report letter, detailing the animal mutations in the Bridge District sewers, their possible source, and noting they were likely connected to the Aurora Order and the True Creator.
Afterward, she used black flames to "disinfect" the letter paper and envelope, ensuring this report couldn't be traced back to her through divination. Besides, the inability to divine itself meant involvement with Beyonders—regardless, official Beyonders would take it seriously and investigate the sewers.
"I hope Duckwill really did relocate his cultivation sites as he said..."
But she couldn't worry about him now. She couldn't let the Aurora Order cause another incident like the evil god descent in Tingen City. If a god descended in Backlund, the death toll wouldn't be mere dozens.
After folding the letter and sealing it in the envelope, Angel looked at the sunlight outside, waiting for the fire-fearing negative effect to dissipate.
At the entrance to the Chorwood District police station, Angel—wearing the Ring of Madness and with her hood up—slipped a thin report letter into the mailbox by the door.
The policeman standing guard immediately cast an interested glance, but seeing informants was a daily occurrence, so he paid no special attention.
Keeping her head down, Angel quickly left his line of sight and returned to the nearest subway station, taking a train toward the East Borough.
On the way, she reviewed the entire reporting process, ensuring she couldn't be tracked or noticed by official Beyonders.
"The report letter was protected from divination through black flame curses. I'm wearing the Magic Pocket Watch and the Hidden Sage Emblem—which have recovery effects—so ordinary divination won't work on me. And those who saw me along the way will only remember—no, won't even remember this false face. They'll forget me quickly..."
"The only problem is Duckwill, that unfortunate Apothecary. He knows I cleared out the mutated animals and that I performed divination. If official Beyonders trace things back to him, he might expose me as the Witch... Fortunately, I already know how to attend the 'Eye of Wisdom' gatherings. I'll avoid contact with him from now on and change my puppy mask—he might not even recognize me."
"Then there's Mr. A, also of the Aurora Order. Is he connected to this?"
Angel pondered, quickly dismissing the idea.
If Mr. A dared to live in Backlund's wealthiest Queens Borough and hold gatherings there, either he was under official surveillance with tacit permission, or he was simply a tool the Aurora Order used to divert official attention. In either case, he probably wouldn't be involved in something as petty as "causing animal mutations."
Returning to the vicinity of her safe house in the East Borough, Angel didn't go inside. Instead, she circled the surrounding blocks. She found no watchers and no traces of corruption from last night's "True Creator's aura."
"That aura only targeted me as the blasphemer who looked directly upon Him. It didn't affect anyone else... That's fortunate indeed. But this safe house definitely can't be used anymore. At least I already paid a month's rent. I'll let it sit empty here—after a month, that aura will have long since dissipated into time..."
Abandoning the apartment she'd spent nearly 1 pound to rent, Angel went to an area of the East Borough near the dock district and found another one-bedroom apartment as her new safe house. This time she was more careful, paying only two weeks' rent—8 sules total—plus a 4-sule deposit. That way, if she had to abandon another safe house, the loss wouldn't be too great.
This apartment was similar to the previous one, with only basic furniture. Angel did some simple cleaning and arranging of the new safe house, completing everything before deep night fell.
Knock, knock—
Someone rapped on the door.
Angel walked to the living room, a thread of vigilance rising in her heart.
Could it be the landlord? Or perhaps a patrolling police officer? But they never pay attention to the East Borough—why would they knock on a tenant's door?
Approaching the door, she looked through the peephole, then sighed softly before opening it.
"I really didn't want to see you at my door—it never means anything good."
Standing at the entrance was a haggard-looking Dominic, who by all accounts should already be in Byam.