Jack's gaze swept over the gathered group. Alenna Keener, Nick Glaiver, and Harold Mason looked worn but determined.
They quickly introduced the three older men they had brought here. Professor Enderson. Earl Timbercreek. And Dr. Crafton. They were transcendent lecturers from Lonestone University.
Jack strode forward. Extending a hand to Professor Enderson. A man with a scholarly air and spectacles perched on his nose.
"Professor Enderson. Thank you for coming." Jack's voice was direct.
Enderson clasped Jack's hand firmly. "Mister Night. The gravity of the situation warranted it. Ms. Keener's reports were… compelling. And Chief Flute have informed us of your… progress. He tells us you've discovered a way to combat this 'Twilight Death' case."
"We do have a lead." Jack replied. He shook hands with the other two gentlemen. "Earl Timbercreek." He greeted briefly.
Earl Timbercreek, a portly man in serious expression, offered a curt nod. "Mister Night." He replied. "An intriguing case, this one. Law Grade Entity. That's not something you hear every day. Even at the university."
Then Jack turned to Dr. Crafton. The archeologist gave them a wry smile. His eyes scanned Jack's face.
"Mr. Night and Mrs. Night. We've met again. In another terrible case." He said. His tone held a thread of respect. Both of them saved his life in their last encounter after all.
Reina offered a polite, almost imperceptible nod to Dr. Crafton. "Doctor!" She acknowledged.
"We're glad to see you too, Doctor." Jack stated. A hint of dry humor was in his voice.
Before further pleasantries could be exchanged, the sound of approaching footsteps drew their attention. Father Minnow walked to their direction. His face etched with concern. But also carried a flicker of hope. He was flanked by three figures. Each bearing the distinct vestments of the Trinity Churches.
"Mr. and Mrs. Night. Welcome back! Revered Professors. Welcome!" Father Minnow said. His gaze was settling on the newcomers with a mixture of deference and urgency. "These are the divine acolytes sent by the HQ. Father Lynx, Father Orchard, and Sister Riverre."
The three acolytes were a study in contrasts.
Father Lynx, from the Church of Justice, was a man of stern countenance and hardened features. He wore simple chainmail beneath his pale blue cassock. A hand was resting on the hilt of a holy symbol at his hip.
Father Orchard, from the Church of Prosperity, was plump and jovial-looking. Though his eyes were sharp and calculating as he surveyed the scene.
Sister Riverre was from the Church of Redemption. She, by contrast, seemed delicate, almost frail. Her face was serene. Yet her gaze held an unnerving intensity.
Jack greeted them and than cut to the chase. "Thank you for coming. We don't have much time before twilight. The situation is this. A Law Grade Entity, Deep Silence, is sealed beneath this village. It was originally bound by the village founders, Nerea the Empyrean Songstress and Hearth the Array Wright."
He paused. Letting the weight of the information sink in. The acolytes exchanged glances. Their faces were shifting from piety to professional skepticism.
The professors, however, merely nodded. Their expressions were grim. Alenna and her classmates were listening intently. Their research had prepared them for this.
"A lightning strike..." Jack continued. Pointing vaguely towards Farmer Drumbell's house. "... compromised the seal. The entity now manifests for approximately two hours every day. Near the time when the sun sets."
He immediately added. "When it manifests, it extinguishes sound. And by extension, the source of that sound. Including heartbeats. If the victim is exposed long enough. That's what caused the 'Twilight Death' and the deaths of the previous church acolytes."
"We've gained a lead of how to fix the seal." Jack continued. "We were just about to do so at the moment."
Father Lynx's jaw tightened. "A Law Grade Entity? Seal fixing? The information you gathered, Mister Night. Is it reliable? How was this determined?" His tone was clipped. Demanding.
Jack met Lynx's gaze without flinching. "I gained the information through a specific contact. A spectral entity, known to some as Jack Mystery. It has access to certain… unique archives of knowledge."
He omitted the detail that he himself was Jack Mystery. His stoic, human appearance gave no clue to his other forms.
The faces of the three acolytes darkened. Father Orchard cleared his throat. His jovial demeanor was cracking.
"A specter?" He said. "Brother Night, with all due respect, the Church does not typically endorse information gleaned from… incorporeal entities. They are often sources of deception and corruption."
Sister Riverre's serene face remained impassive. But her eyes held a flicker of doubt.
Father Lynx scoffed openly. "This is preposterous. We are talking about a Law Grade threat, and you received your intelligence from a spirit? We should be consulting ancient texts, divining the will of the divine, not following the whims of a ghost!"
Before Jack could respond, Professor Enderson stepped forward. His voice was firm. "Fathers, Sister, I understand your reservations. However, Mister Night's prior information has proven uncannily accurate."
He explained. "His account of the lightning strike and the entity's behavior aligns perfectly with our research in Lonestone. Furthermore, the descriptions of the effects match the reported deaths in the village."
"We have little time." The professor said. "And frankly, no other actionable intelligence. Prudence dictates we at least attempt his proposed solution before dismissing it out of hand."
Dr. Crafton chimed in. His voice was cutting. "Exactly. And let's not forget, the founders, Nerea and Hearth, were not acolytes of any mainstream church. Their methods might be… unconventional."
His gaze lingered on Jack for a moment. "A specter might be privy to ancient knowledge that established institutions have overlooked or deemed heretical."
Earl Timbercreek added. "Desperate times, Gentlemen! They call for pragmatic measures. If this specter can offer a path, however unorthodox, we owe it to these villagers to explore it."
The acolytes were outvoted by the unanimous support of the transcendent scholars. They reluctantly conceded.
Father Lynx still looked unconvinced. But he grudgingly nodded. "Very well. For the sake of the innocent, we shall proceed. But if this proves to be a deception, Mister Night, the Church of Justice will hold you accountable."
Jack offered a curt nod in return. "Understood. The solution involves repairing the original seal. My source indicated three key components. A bone from a powerful beast, a piece of silver, and the original sealing song used by Nerea. We have the first two. Reina has been preparing for the third."
He glanced at Reina. She gave him a reassuring smile. Rune also pulsed with a light blue glow. Indicating readiness.
"Good. Then let's move." Jack commanded. "Farmer Drumbell's backyard. That's where the original sealing site is located."
The group made their way through the quiet village towards Drumbell's property. The villagers who remained, mostly elders and those too stubborn or weak to leave, watched them. With a mixture of fear and desperate hope.
Chief Flute, the village elder, was already waiting at the designated spot. He had gathered a small basket of fresh herbs. Vibrant red rosemaries. Fragrant seerheart sages. And the distinctive mystic mugworts.
The target was buried under a gnarled, ancient tree in the middle of Drumbell's backyard. Its trunk bore a massive, scorched gouge from the lightning strike. A gaping wound in its otherwise majestic form.
"The seal is directly beneath this tree." Jack stated. Addressing the group. He turned to Chief Flute. "Chief, thank you for the herbs. They are precisely what we need."
Chief Flute nodded solemnly. "Anything to save our village, Jack Night. Anything."
Jack then shifted his focus back to the ground. "I'll handle the excavation." He rolled up his sleeves. Revealing his muscular forearms.
He drew a mechanical spade from his Spatial Backpack. One of the tools he tinkered as a Steamrune Engineer. He plunged the spade into the loosened soil at the base of the tree. Ignoring the strange looks from the acolytes and villagers.
Earth sprayed as Jack dug with surprising speed and efficiency. His movements were powerful. Each scoop of dirt cleared with intent. Five minutes later, despite the compacted earth and stubborn roots, his spade struck something hard and metallic.
"Here!" He grunted. Bending to clear away the last of the soil around the object. Slowly, a metal box began to emerge. It was roughly square. About half a meter to each side. And heavily tarnished with age and earth.
What truly caught the eye were the markings etched into its surface. They weren't the familiar runes. The patterns used in both Steamrune Engineering and Mystic Arts. These were angular, almost blocky inscription. Yet, they possessed an ancient, resonant power that even the uninitiated could perceive.
"These runes…" Harold murmured. Leaning closer. His student's curiosity overriding his apprehension. "They're unlike anything we've encountered in our university."
Dr. Crafton knelt beside him. Her archeologist's eyes were gleaming. "Fascinating. A truly ancient script. This could be a breakthrough in our understanding of pre-Imperial sealing techniques." His voice was hushed. Reverent.
Jack ignored their academic musings. He had a job to do. With a final heave, he fully unearthed the box. It was heavy. Far heavier than its size suggested. A testament to the density of the metal. He wiped some dirt from its surface. Revealing the intricate, unknown carvings more clearly.
Then, from the Spatial Backpack he carried, Jack retrieved the two items. First... a dragon fang. It was bone-white and huge. As long as his whole arm and as thick as his thigh. And it was impossibly sharp at its tip. Radiating a faint, ancient power.
Earl Timbercreek peered at the fang with scientific curiosity. "Is that a dragon's fang? Remarkable. Truly remarkable."
Next, Jack pulled out three gleaming silver ingots from the bags. Each was about the size of a small brick. They shimmered dully in the sunlight.
"The materials were ready." Jack announced. Placing them carefully on the ground beside the unearthed box.
Reina stepped forward. Her long black hair swaying gently. Chief Flute, understanding his cue, reverently handed her the basket of herbs.
Reina's adept and graceful fingers plucked the red rosemaries, seerheart sages, and mystic mugworts from the basket. She arranged them carefully on the ground. In a small hexagram circle near the metal box.
Then, with a practiced movement, she unlatched her ornate grimoire. Its cover was made of dark, supple leather. And seemed to absorb the light.
She opened it to a specific page. The symbols on the page glowed with a soft, ethereal light. Reflecting in her dark eyes.
Reina took a deep breath. Her gaze was fixed on the grimoire. Then on the herbs. Then on the box.
Her lips began to move. Chanting in a low, melodious tone. Much more complex than what was needed for [Past Echo].
The words of the [Transcendent Echo] spell reverberated. The air around her shimmered, growing hazy and indistinct, as if reality itself was bending to her will. A thin, shimmering mist began to rise from the ground. Swirling around the herbs.
The mist thickened. Coalescing. Forming into indistinct shapes. Then, with a sudden burst of clarity, two holographic figures solidified within the swirling fog.
The first was a man. He sat cross-legged on the ground. Just behind the metal box. An ethereal, translucent image.
He was handsome. With long, ponytailed dark hair. And a focused, intense expression. He wore archaic robes. Simple yet elegant. His presence was calm. Grounded, Radiating an aura of profound wisdom and unwavering resolve. This was definitely Hearth, the Array Wright.
Beside him, standing tall and poised, was a woman. She was breathtakingly beautiful. With long, flowing hair that seemed to be woven from gold. Her robes, similarly archaic, billowed around her as if caught in an unseen breeze.
Her eyes, though holographic, conveyed a deep, empathetic soul. This should be Nerea, the Empyrean Songstress.
The assembled villagers gasped. Even the scholars and acolytes stared in wide-eyed amazement. Alenna, Nick, and Harold were transfixed. Their academic minds were struggling to process the visual proof of ancient power.
Nerea's lips parted. And she began to sing...