Damian stroked the crow's sleek feathers, the corners of his mouth lifting.
There weren't many small animals in the Sanctuary. It was, after all, the Sanctuary, cut off from the outside world; too many animals would affect security. Only occasionally would a small animal stray in.
This big crow weighed about eleven pounds.
It had likely lived in the Sanctuary a long time, maybe older than he was now.
Judging from the species, it seemed to be a kind of raven. Its beady black eyes were like two polished glass beads, shining with intelligence.
They say crows like collecting shiny things. Should I try it?
Damian gave an order: "Crow, fetch me something shiny."
"Yes!"
The crow cawed once, beat its wings, and flew off.
Without hesitating, Damian resumed refurbishing Jamian the Crow Saint's grave. He replaced the headstone with marble and added a marble railing, inlaid with gilded patterns and carvings, then scattered rose petals over the mound.
Before long, the once-plain grave of the Crow Silver Saint had become lavish, almost palatial—richly adorned like a high-end tomb.
This was Damian's reserve stock—meant for upgrading a Gold Saint's grave.
He normally wouldn't use such materials on a Silver Saint, but now he had to, because there was something he needed to verify.
[Corpse: Jamian]
[Rank: Crow Silver Saint]
[Yield: Agility +15, Telekinesis +8]
[Extractable Ability: Command Crows, Black Wing Kick, Crow King]
[Grave Grade: Silver]
He looked the headstone text over again—it had changed.
As the grave's grade rose, the Crow Silver Saint's full skill set appeared.
Black Wing Kick.
Clearly some sort of Silver Saint attack technique, but to Damian it was about as useful as trash.
Crow King?
What was that supposed to be?
Damian's forehead darkened with lines.
Duck King? Crow King? Hard to tell which is which.
Without further delay, he laid his hand on the headstone.
First came the Agility stat—and Telekinesis.
Then Black Wing Kick, just a leaping kick with no special frills.
Last came Crow King.
The scene wavered before his eyes again.
Then a strange vision unfolded.
He was in the vast Pope's grand hall.
Saga sat right before him.
"Speak. Who are you?"
"Why are you in Jamian's body?"
Saga's voice was ice.
"Heh heh, you don't need to know who I am."
Jamian's mouth spoke: "I bring my master's will, Saga."
"You failed to slay Athena and let her be rescued by the Sagittarius Saint… We've found where Athena is. You must kill her."
Saga's voice grew colder: "Insolent wretch—you dare question my identity."
"Heh heh, others might not know—but I do."
Jamian's voice turned odd: "Her name is Saori Kido!"
"Fool! Genrō Maōken!"
With a casual punch, a strange red light flashed from Saga's fist.
Damian saw "his" arm contort, pustules and tumors rising on the skin.
Bones crackled; even the vision itself stuttered and warped. A soul-piercing noise drilled into his ears.
His head felt like it would split.
Even he could feel the agony of the Genrō Maōken, as if someone else were fighting to seize control of this body.
"Crows—attack! Get me out of here."
Jamian tried to flee, shouting hoarsely.
Crows converged and hurled themselves at Saga, while others tugged Jamian up and out of the Pope's hall.
As the image faded, Damian's sight returned to normal.
Now he understood what Crow King meant.
He could command a large flock of crows to attack, even carry him in flight, direct them to perform any maneuver, and possibly share senses to some extent.
Not a combat technique per se, but incredibly convenient. Jamian had used this very ability to reach the Pope's hall.
Damian's face turned grave.
He could sense deep waters beneath all this.
Someone had controlled Jamian to confront Saga and urge him to kill Athena.
They knew Saga's identity, took control of a Silver Saint, and came to the Sanctuary on purpose.
None of this existed in the main plotline.
Who on earth were they?
As he pondered, the big crow flapped back.
After circling twice, it landed on the back of Damian's hand, a shiny trinket clamped in its beak, which it obediently placed in his palm.
"What's this?"
Looking closely, Damian realized it was a fragment of golden metal.
It was about the size of a thumb, glinting coldly, a little dulled—and a strange, pure Cosmo emanated from it.
Such pure Cosmo.
A fragment of a Gold Cloth!
Damian thought of a possibility.
The Gold Cloths had been passed down since the mythic age and were said never to be destroyed, but the foes in every Holy War were formidable, so damage occurred. Gold Cloth fragments breaking off was normal.
Though these fragments weren't sentient, they still held pure Cosmo, which meant they were useful.
Turning them in was out of the question.
He would keep them.
Gold Cloth fragments, after all.
"Little crow, from now on your name is Number One. How about it?"
"One, one, one…"
The crow cawed again.
Crows really were smart.
Damian nodded slightly, then thought of something. "Number One, take me to where you found this fragment."
Caw caw…
The crow cawed and flew off. Damian followed with his shovel.
Soon, it led him behind a jutting boulder and perched on a solitary tombstone in front.
The stone was mottled and cracked, the mound choked with weeds and nearly buried in dust. Who knew how many years of wind and rain it had seen.
Though it looked no different from other graves, Damian sensed something unusual. The headstone was made of white marble; the inscription had long since weathered away. There was also a faint Libra emblem on the stone.
A little out of the ordinary.
Judging by experience, this grave was more than two centuries old—likely from long before, perhaps four or five hundred years.
Very likely it belonged to a Libra Gold Saint from long ago.
Damian felt a little thrill and was at a loss for words.
He made up his mind and, without another word, began restoring the grave to see what this ancient, unknown tomb would yield.
As soon as he put the shovel in, it struck something hard and metallic. On closer inspection—it was another Gold Cloth fragment.
The deeper he dug, the more broken Cloth pieces he turned up, even fractured fragments of Golden weapons.
Holy crap!
He'd dug up a Cloth tomb!
He'd struck it rich!
—
The Crow King begs for votes—recommendation votes, monthly votes—any votes will do.
If you have no votes, Saints, just give a shout.
A new book's launch on Qidian is like a lonely Earth searching for aliens in the vast cosmos. Come on—send a signal.
The Crow King begs for votes—recommendation votes, monthly votes—any votes will do.
If you have no votes, Saints, just give a shout.