Blackthorn Security Company, some time later.
Leonard Mitchell sat dazed on the ruined steps, his face pale, eyes hollow.
Facing the Backlund Nighthawks, who crowded around asking about the incident, he had to forcibly muster all his attention just to concentrate enough to answer questions.
But even so, the faces of his dead colleagues kept appearing before his eyes.
Silas, with his heart pierced through, charred and withered.
Klein, with surprise on his face.
Dunn, who fought until his final moment before death...
He kept spacing out, occasionally confused.
Why had that mastermind behind everything taken Klein and Silas's Beyonder characteristics but left Dunn's characteristics, as well as the other characteristics the Shepherd had herded?
Everyone's dead. Only I survived...
Facing the Backlund Nighthawks, he even had a crazy thought: it would have been better if he'd died in that battle too.
At least then he wouldn't bear this inner torture.
If only he'd actively role-played earlier, advanced sooner, maybe the outcome would have been different...
Leonard's heart was in chaos. He even found the Nighthawks before him somewhat annoying.
He was about to speak up and send them away when he saw the crowd part like the sea. At the end stood Crestet Cesimir, with his deep, calm eyes.
"I didn't find any trace of Cecilia Londor."
Crestet's first sentence made Leonard's heart sink into the dark soil beneath the steps.
Silas is already dead. His sister was taken by bad people, and I couldn't even find a clue...
He closed his eyes in pain.
"I'm certain that Ince Zangwill and Sealed Artifact 0-08 were behind this."
Crestet walked up to Leonard. "Under these circumstances, surviving at all is already quite difficult. You needn't blame yourself."
However, Leonard paid no attention to Crestet's consolation, only catching the keywords in his words.
Ince Zangwill, the traitorous archbishop, the "Gatekeeper" who failed to advance.
0-08, a seemingly ordinary quill pen... He recalled the relevant information from memory. At the same time, his ears twitched slightly.
With Crestet standing before him, he didn't dare make an obvious listening gesture, only quietly hearing out the reminder from that voice in his mind.
Soon, the defeated look on his face was swept away completely.
"He's the mastermind behind all this, isn't he?"
He asked.
Crestet slowly nodded.
"Lord Cesimir, I'm applying to join the Red Gloves."
Leonard looked at Crestet's crimson gloves that seemed ready to drip blood, speaking seriously.
The "Red Gloves" were the elite force within the Nighthawks, responsible for pursuing extraordinary cases nationwide.
The work was very dangerous, but advancement was also much faster. As a senior deacon, Crestet was one of the three giants of the Red Gloves and had great authority on related matters.
"Our minimum requirement is Sequence 7."
Crestet said calmly.
"I can advance immediately."
Leonard said, bone-deep hatred making his emerald eyes flash with a captivating cold light.
He didn't understand why he'd survived either.
But even if it was for those who had died, he had to become stronger and launch revenge against that damned bastard!
"...Then write me after you advance."
Crestet looked into his eyes. "Hatred will make a person grow quickly, but don't forget, don't let it steal your soul.
Also, there's one more thing. Your teammates' bodies have all been handled. Someone needs to inform their families."
"I'll go."
Leonard stood up, pain welling in his eyes. Not just because he had to face Klein's siblings, but more importantly, because he realized Silas had no family left to notify...
Goddess, this ending is far too cruel for the Londor siblings who struggled so hard to survive.
I pray You show more mercy...
---
Several days later, Tingen City, Raphael Cemetery.
Dunn and Klein's funerals had ended.
The grief-stricken Melissa threw a theater ticket and the copper whistle found on her brother into the grave.
The crowd gradually gathered before Silas's grave.
Leonard, Kenley, Frye, and Brett carried the feather-light coffin over and placed it in the grave.
Before the grave stood Silas's tombstone with his photograph. In the photo, he was handsome and young, with a brilliant smile.
Beside him sat Cecilia in an elegant dress.
Her pretty face carried a hint of shyness; her eyes not daring to face the camera directly, but the corners of her mouth also lifted in a smile.
This was a photo they'd found in Silas's home, apparently taken recently after he'd bought his sister a dress.
"I'll use every effort to find Cecilia for you."
Leonard stood before the tombstone, silently speaking to the coffin.
The Londor family had no one left.
Only colleagues could shovel earth, handful by handful, filling the grave until the coffin was completely buried.
The dead had departed.
They received the Goddess's gift of eternal rest. But those who yet survived still had to bear life's hardships, their hearts scorched by flames of anger and hatred until the end.
The funeral was complete; no matter how sorrowful the crowd, they gradually dispersed.
Night soon shrouded the cemetery.
Klein was the first to awaken.
He broke through the grave, discovering with shock, yet also some expectation, that he'd resurrected.
Afterward, he worked hard to accept his situation, recognizing he could no longer remain in Tingen. Death and resurrection were too shocking.
In this world where true gods existed, he might be captured and dissected.
He could only cover his tracks, use divination to bid farewell to the captain and Silas, then leave the cemetery bearing the pain of parting from his family and the fury of revenge.
Under the crimson moonlight, peace quickly returned here.
But this peace didn't last long.
"Thud, thud."
Heavy footsteps rang out from the cemetery's depths.
The sound was terrible and gloomy, as if dead corpses were reviving, walking stiffly.
If anyone had been in the cemetery then, they would definitely have been frightened by this sound and fled.
Under the moonlight, a massive figure gradually emerged.
Drawing closer, one could see that it wasn't a single person but a relatively delicate, beautiful young girl carrying a handsome young man. His entire body was drenched in blood, as if his skin had been peeled off.
The girl's hands were covered in dirt, blood, and filth under her fingernails.
"...Depravity and darkness are the Lord's gifts. Those who can hear His teachings are blessed..."
The monster-like young man murmured, involuntarily speaking blasphemous and mad verses, as if trapped in half-madness.
His words were like invisible knives torturing the girl, making her delicate face show pain, blood seeping from her nose and eyes.
But even so, the girl didn't release her grip.
Instead, she firmly carried him forward, her expression gentle as she comforted the young man:
"Hold on, brother... We promised to survive, to survive together..."
Their figures gradually walked away, leaving the cemetery, disappearing at the end of the street.
At last, the cemetery attained true quiet.
The crimson moonlight spread down with infinite compassion, as if prepared to grant the departed unlimited peace and tenderness.
[End of Volume]