"Gray dogs!"
The shadow atop the abandoned warehouse finally spoke."Didn't expect you to catch up this fast. Too bad—you still won't catch me. You'll never catch me. Hahahahahaha!"
His figure began to fade.
"Ha! Chase me then—come on! You gray dogs don't understand what a true Phantom Talisman is."
He vanished—then reappeared right in front of Laurent's iron staff.The laughter cut off like a strangled cur.
"Urk… what—what's going on?"
"Nice talisman," Laurent said evenly. "Next time, don't use it in front of a high-tier combatant with the Puppetmaster seed."
The man's face went ashen. "Are you a Chief Inspector… or a High Adjudicator?"
"For you, there's no difference." Laurent touched the staff to his throat. "Answer honestly, and I'll send you to Stone City."
At those words, the man's expression twisted—complicated, fearful. He fell silent, then nodded. "Fine."
"Name."
"Bas."
"Birthplace."
"Gem Town."
"Occupation."
"Stonemason. Later—pastor at the Blessing Chapel."
"Which Doomsday sect?"
"The Polluters."
"Creed."
"Pollute the Flame. Turn the Guardian Flame into Black Fire that spreads distortion, mutation, and taint."
"Why?"
"We believe the Flame is hypocrisy. It burns people as fuel—cruel, inhumane. The black mist is kind and benevolent—those who yield to it last for a thousand years without decay. That is why it blankets the world: because mercy and goodness are the world's truth. We are merely resisting the inevitable tide of history. Coexistence of man and mist is the proper path. If we achieve it early, we'll rule in the dark age to come, undying forever."
"You don't know all who are tainted by the mist end in madness?"
"Our sight is limited. 'Reason' is a cage. At higher states, we'll gain greater freedom. We can't yet imagine it—so you call it madness."
Laurent's face never changed—calm, almost placid. His low voice continued.
"Do you know him?"
Bas looked at Rod—long, gray-white face blank, pinched eyes empty.Rod tensed.
After a few seconds Bas turned away. "No."
Laurent took a portrait from his robe—a likeness so clear it could've been a photo."This one?"
Bas answered, "I know him. Ash-Cat Alai."
"How?"
"He begged for leftover tins at the chapel. Did chores in exchange."
"Was he one of you?"
"I don't know. Maybe another line."
"On Third of March, why did he come?"
"Don't recall. Probably like any other day."
"Then why did you flee on the sixteenth?"
Bas shot him a look. "Because I'd been exposed as a Doomsday cultist. Why wouldn't I run?"
"In fact," Laurent said mildly, "we didn't confirm you as a cultist until the seventeenth—the day after you fled."
A thin sneer flickered over Bas's pallid face, then vanished."If I waited for your confirmation, I'd never get out. I didn't get out anyway. I just don't understand—Outer District One is huge, chaotic—nearly a million souls. How did you pin me to Firehammer Street so fast? Give me one more bell and I'd have been on a caravan to Ironforge City."
Laurent shook his head slightly. "You wouldn't pass the checks. You weren't going anywhere."
"Go to my place and see," Bas sniffed. "Your capital's defenses are laughable."
Laurent nodded. "Let's go."
Rod blinked. Seriously? That easy?No backup? It felt wrong to ask. He trailed them to a large abandoned warehouse nearby.
He must be strong, Rod told himself. One move and he pinned this guy. Just hold the big thigh and don't let go.
They reached the door.The huge warehouse was decrepit; the green-stained walls were cracked and broken. The spirit lamp over the entrance was long dead; the interior was pitch-black, shadows drifting within.None of the neighboring houses were lit.
Bas pushed the door. "Go on."
Laurent took a lamp, clipped it to Rod's belt, and stepped inside.Rod followed.
It was all darkness. The lamp barely carved a puddle of light.Rod's grip tightened on the Raven.
He opened his mouth to warn Laurent—Bas tumbled backward, rolling out of the light.
"Hahahaha! You fell for it! So stupid, gray dogs of the Inquisition!"
Whuff!Air split with a howl.Laurent's staff flashed down faster than thought—
CLANG!A massive arrow snapped in two.
"Not bad," Bas called. "But how about—this?"
Purple gas geysered from the broken shaft—obvious poison.Rod clamped his breath, but Laurent's hands glimmered; a gust rose from the ground and swept the cloud away.
"Lucky you," Bas jeered. "Wind affinity. But I've sealed this place with a spirit maze. Without lighting the entire space, you'll never get out. The victory is still mine. Hahahaha—"
Laurent snapped his fingers.The lamp on Rod's belt flared, petals of light blooming until the whole warehouse was bright as day.
And there was Bas—perched on a slanted rafthouse to their right, frozen, mouth hanging open.
Something cracked in the air—like a delicate shell shattering.
Bas shrieked and tumbled down.Black blood streamed from the corner of his eyes and lips. He gagged, spewing a mass of foul sludge onto the floor.
"You—you dare— hurk—corpse-flies, kill them!"
The muck spread, and a swarm of flies boiled out—huge green heads, pus-yellow hind segments, black bristles—a black cloud lunging for them.
Laurent's brow lit. A crimson ray lanced out, punching a tunnel through the cloud.He tilted his head; the beam swept in an arc, slicing the swarm to ash with surgical precision.
Rod stared—especially at the final beam. Like Erlang Shen… or an Ultraman.
Are all Soul Seeds like that?A thrill ran through him—half awe, half fear.
Bas had no such feelings. Seeing Laurent's brow tilt his way, he yelped, threw up his hands."Don't kill me! Don't kill me! I'll say everything! Ash-Cat Alai brought me a box the last day—said a Black Priest sent it. I don't know what it was! I left it where I was told and left!"
"And—and—on the sixteenth, my handler Black-Corpse told me to run. He arranged everything. The Phantom talisman was his—"
He babbled on—then noticed Laurent tilt his head as if to speak to the boy beside him.Bas sprang up, slapped his chest, and—
BOOM.
He split into dozens of shadows racing every direction—laughter echoing from every side.
"Hahaha! Stupid gray dogs! I still got away! You're just not smart enough! If I were you, I wouldn't waste time talking—"
Laurent's brows knit. He tapped his temple; a hint of aura flickered in his eyes.He scanned the hall—but found no true body.
"Hahaha—high-tier talisman," Bas crowed. "Your soul-sight isn't enough. You can't see me."
Pfft!A red line shot through a phantom—which merely split into two.
"Hahahahaha, useless! Your arrogance will kill you! I'll butcher you and that bastard brat, then ride the caravan out of the capital! Your Sacred Flame is dying! Light is fleeting—darkness is eternal! How can your gaudy glow comprehend the depth of black?"
A black skull clattered from nowhere.The moment it hit, mist rolled over Rod's eyes.
He stood in a white void of flowing fog. Laurent was gone. Only Bas's taunts echoed.
"Little mongrel. Wasted so many taboos on you—and I'll take it back with interest. Heh. I'll taste the brat's brain first. Fresh and tender…"
The insults droned on. Shadows slid past in the mist.
Not good.Rod focused his eyes and summoned Soul Energy.A thin chill—like summer ice—rose from the depths of his soul and gathered at his brow.He tapped between his eyes thrice.
The Soul Eye opened.
The world snapped into kaleidoscope—ribbons, points, and shimmering blocks of color piled in chaotic layers.Overwhelming at first—but with hints of pattern if you looked long enough.
Rod couldn't read it fully, but he could pick out the oddities.
Soon, he spotted a black fog rising from one ribbon.Unlike the rest, it was a coherent cluster—isolated, like an independent soul.
But human souls aren't black.Whatever it was—it wasn't good.
Rod lifted the Raven, aimed, breathed deep—split his focus.Soul Energy pooled in his palm and pressed into the stock.The pressure gauge on the receiver climbed.
At the peak, light flashed—a white beam lanced out and struck the black cluster.
A thin, wailing hiss filled his ears. The cluster deflated like a punctured bladder, its dark motes scattering into the prismed world—but some of those motes flew toward him, sinking into his body.
Before he could process it, two soft huh? sounds brushed his ears—as if two gazes had shifted to him.
He still couldn't see them.
"Lucky brat," Bas snarled, the insults now aimed squarely at Rod. "I'll flay you, tear your meat, drink your blood—"
"Rod," Laurent's voice came, sudden and close, "you can see dead-souls?"
"I—saw one," Rod said tightly. "Where are you? I can't see you."
"Don't panic. He's dragged us into the spirit-realm. He's using taboo items—I can't pin him for the moment."
"What do I do? Can I help?"
Laurent's voice stayed calm, rich, reassuring."I'll keep his attention. Look for the spirit-lock. Break it and we'll snap back to the normal world."
"Do not attack the large spirits. The Raven won't hurt them—only enrage them."
"Got it—what does the lock look like?" Rod called—but Laurent didn't answer.
Anxiety pricked. The situation felt worse than Laurent made it sound.
Find the lock fast, or this really will backfire.
Annoyance simmered under Rod's focus. We had the advantage. Why show off? Pin him, call backup, sweep the hideout—done. This isn't steady at all.
He shoved the grumbling aside and searched.
Through the Soul Eye, the realm was dizzying—no ground, no up or down, no distance—just color piled on color. No obvious "lock."
He did, however, spot multiple black-glowing dead-souls—slow, dull, and easy to pop like balloons.He burst four in a row—and slipped by a towering giant stitched from stained-glass panes.Wisely, he left that one alone—the thing was stomping, flinging multicolored sparks at every step.
A formless shadow skimmed past.Bas's voice sharpened right in Rod's ear.
"Overreaching brat. Looking for grandpa? I've seen plenty like you—get a touch of soul-sight and think you're gods. Your proud heads all end up under my heel in the muck—"
The taunts gained direction. Rod followed the feel—and behind a heap of frothy cloud like melted ice cream, he found a spirit.
It was a glowing humanoid fog—half of it stained a deep black.Countless dark specks coursed through the veins of light.
"If you find my true body, I'll eat every turd in the capital sewers—"
The tirade rolled on, the fog boiling with agitation.He didn't seem to notice himself. His focus wasn't on his own position.
Is this the real one?
Rod leveled the Raven. Soul Energy surged in; the gauge slammed to the top.A white line burst forth and punched through his head.
Silence.The insults cut off cleanly.
The very next instant, Rod's view widened. With a blink, he saw Laurent—not far away, battling four glass giants, aura boiling, light flaring around him.As the humanoid fog unraveled, the giants collapsed into showers of colored shards.
Laurent looked up—stunned—eyes going straight to Rod.
The world itself shifted: the random light blotches thinned; outlines of solid matter returned.
Rod shut the Soul Eye—and stood again in the warehouse.
Bas knelt ahead-left, half his skull missing. Blood and brain spattered the floor.A thick black filament, streaked with other hues, lifted from the corpse and flew into Rod's body.
Tiny letters flashed at the edge of his vision.No longer a total half-illiterate, he could just manage to read them:
[Soul of the Tainted Sotil Rade]
Before he could react, Laurent blurred toward him, staff rising to Rod's throat.His tone stayed calm and detached—but held a distinct, icy edge.
"Why," he asked,"did you kill him?"