Chapter 75: She Died p1
Before the fireplace, three figures stood in silence.
Philosopher, Educator, Historian.
A rare moment with all three Harbinger leaders gathered, but their expressions were somber, the atmosphere heavy.
The Harbingers were facing a grave situation.
“Performer… is confirmed dead,” Educator said softly, his gaze fixed on the fireplace, watching the dancing flames. His childish face was expressionless.
At the same time, Philosopher, perched on his small stool by the cabin wall, shakily reached out and removed a photograph of a stern-looking woman from the second row.
The woman in the photograph wore a suit and a grey fedora, holding a conductor’s baton, elegant and mysterious.
But… she was dead.
The photograph in Philosopher’s hand crumbled into fragments, scattering across the floor.
The floor was already littered with similar fragments, one tiny corner showing a faint, dark gold vertical pupil.
Several spaces were now empty on the wall where the photographs had been.
The Company directors had gone completely mad, wanting to tear apart the chessboard, as all their pieces had been taken, while the Harbingers had yet to lose a single one.
To contain the Harbingers as much as possible, the Old Man had abandoned maintaining the barrier that enveloped and monitored Victoria, diverting all his power to locating the Harbingers within the city.
The deceased Performer wasn’t the first casualty of this storm of madness. Five other Harbingers had already perished.
But Performer… was one of the few Ninth-Order Awakened Ones on the Oneiric Path. Even Artist had been slightly weaker than him, yet he still hadn’t been able to withstand the Company’s assault.
There was only one reason.
…The attacker was the Boy, one of the three directors.
This berserker, known for his bloodlust, belonged to the Judgment Path and was the most formidable combatant among all known Awakened Ones.
Even the Old Man and Philosopher, the strongest figures in Victoria, didn’t dare face his assault head-on. His brute force would tear apart any obstacle in his path.
Performer was indeed powerful. If it had been the other two directors, killing him wouldn’t have been so swift and decisive. Unfortunately, he had encountered a madman, all his Oneiric abilities useless against the enraged Boy.
Before he could even use his Taboo secret technique as a last resort, Performer was cut in half, literally bisected by a single blow.
Historian, still just a shadow, remained silent, seemingly lost in thought or contemplating a decision.
Philosopher, his face wrinkled and covered in age spots, managed a smile, a hint of amusement in his aged features.
“This isn’t entirely bad news, comrades. The directors’ reckless actions mean their plan has failed.
“Although the Harbingers have suffered heavy losses, it doesn’t matter. Soon… it will be our moment of victory—as long as the path to godhood proceeds smoothly.”
“That’s true, I know,” Educator sighed. “But the losses are too heavy. Six top-tier Harbingers died at the Boy’s hands. It’s not worth it.”
They could die, but their deaths had to be meaningful.
But the problem was… the Boy hadn’t even expended much effort killing them. The Old Man located their positions, the Boy attacked, one strike, or two at most.
Few could withstand two blows from him, not even Silent Demise Grotesqueries. They would die countless times at his hands until they were truly extinguished.
Dead beyond any possibility of revival.
“The other Harbingers have gone completely silent, but that doesn’t mean the Old Man won’t find them. There’s nowhere safe in Victoria now, not even here,” Educator said gravely. “If we can’t stop the Boy’s killing spree, even if the path to godhood succeeds… we might not have enough Harbingers left to lead humanity in the new world.”
Hearing Educator’s concern, Philosopher nodded thoughtfully.
“This… is indeed a problem.”
Their ultimate goal was still to save humanity, even if the process involved considerable sacrifices.
Even if the Harbingers ultimately won, they had to consider their responsibilities afterwards.
Just Philosophy, Education, and History weren’t enough. Humanity in the new world would need more knowledge.
“You encountered the Boy recently. What are your chances of winning against him?” the Old Man asked, turning to Educator.
“Mmm… it depends. In a surprise encounter, twenty percent. In a direct confrontation, about forty percent. But with the characteristics of my Authority, Ember, if I have enough time and space to prepare… seventy percent. I have a seventy percent chance of making him pay a fatal price.”
Educator was always calm and collected, never arrogant. If he said he could win, he could. If he said he would lose, he would.
His answer was carefully considered and wouldn’t be far from the truth.
Philosopher pondered for a moment. “So… under certain circumstances, you’re confident you can kill the Boy?”
“Killing him is uncertain; he definitely has some life-saving methods,” Educator said gravely. “But inflicting irreversible injuries… I’m somewhat confident.” He paused, then continued,
“But the problem is, the Boy always strikes swiftly and decisively, not giving me much time to prepare. And his movements are unpredictable. We don’t know when or who he will target next—we can’t wait until only one Harbinger is left before setting a trap, can we?”
Having all the Harbingers gather was even more unrealistic. They were scattered and hidden throughout Victoria. Gathering would make them easier for the Old Man to locate. They might all be killed by the Boy before they could even assemble.
“If we knew who the Boy’s next target was, could we prepare in advance?”
Historian, who had been silent, suddenly spoke, their voice still emotionless, raspy and unreal.
“Hmm?”
Philosopher and Educator looked up at the shadow clinging to the wall, their gazes sharp.
Was Historian… finally making their decision?
“Please elaborate, Historian,” Educator said softly.
“The Company’s greatest fear is the White Witch, who can collapse Victoria at any time, and the Grotesquery that can annihilate Boundaries during a collapse, rendering all their efforts meaningless,” Historian said calmly. “We don’t know the specifics of the latter yet, but the former…”
“I understand,” Educator nodded slightly.
The words didn’t need to be explicit. The general idea was enough. He knew what to do.
“Use the Church of Light’s cathedral as the base for the barrier. When the barrier is complete… it’s time to set the bait and cast the net.” The tension in Educator’s expression eased slightly as his eyes flickered. “At that time…”
He didn’t continue, instead staring intently at Historian.
So, was Historian the Boy?
If so, this was a blatant declaration of war.
Or perhaps, they could now rule out the Boy. The Old Man’s probability was also low… Was it the Woman?
Although unclear, at least now, they had an opportunity to confront the Boy… or perhaps Historian.
And this was the opportunity Educator needed.
He didn’t waste any time, his figure dissipating within the cabin, leaving only a pool of blood on the sofa, which quickly evaporated under the fireplace’s warmth.
In the blink of an eye, Historian also vanished, leaving only Philosopher alone in the cabin.
The aged Philosopher remained silent, lost in thought, contemplating his next move.
“Hmph.”
He chuckled softly, a hint of disdain and mockery in his voice.
……
On a bustling street, a handsome young man walked through the crowded masses.
Besides his striking appearance and distinctive black hair, he seemed like any ordinary person in Victoria.
Perhaps only a few young women would spare him a second glance, but that was all.
The young man carried a large, rectangular cloth bag, taller than himself, bulging with unknown contents. But it seemed light, as he carried it effortlessly, his expression unchanged, not even breaking a sweat.
He walked casually through the crowd, listening to the familiar noise of the market, a hint of reminiscence in his cold eyes.
Long ago, he had also been just another face in the crowd, repeating his mundane, ignorant routine.
Until he saw the true face of the world.
Until he shouldered the responsibility he had to bear.
Until… he became a Company director.
The street was packed with people heading to the cathedral for the ceremony, but the young man moved through the crowd like a fish in water.
He saw the towering spire of the cathedral in the distance, solemn hymns drifting on the wind, as if all of Victoria was bathed in God’s glory, heading towards a future of peace and happiness.
“Nice weather,” the young man said softly, looking up at the sun hanging high in the sky. “A good day for killing.”
He untied the large cloth bag on his back and gave a thumbs-up towards the cathedral’s entrance, seemingly aiming at the pulpit.
The next moment, a bloody storm erupted. The crowded street instantly cleared—a powerful gust of wind pulverized a large swathe of people, flesh and organs mixing together, forming a river of blood that flowed slowly across the ground.
The onlookers witnessing this gruesome scene were terrified, scrambling to escape this hellish landscape, panic spreading rapidly.
But the people at the back, unaware of what had happened, continued to push forward, until the thick, nauseating stench of blood drifted on the wind, the crowd losing control and erupting into chaos.
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