Secret Supplicant?
From the literal meaning, it referred to someone who prayed to hidden existences.
That seemed to fit the profile of a cult member pretty well.
Silas mulled over the name for a moment, then continued asking, "So, what are the abilities of a 'Secret Supplicant'?"
"Secret Supplicants can sense certain mysterious and terrifying existences, possess some knowledge of rituals and a small amount of ritual magic, and more or less experience distortions in their cognitive perspectives.
But aside from that, their physical strength is no different from ordinary people, and because their spirituality is higher, they're more prone to losing control than average Beyonders."
"...Huh?"
More prone to losing control? What kind of trait was that! And their physical strength was actually the same as normal people...
No wonder he'd managed to knock Sirius down with a candlestick. It seemed like there was no comparison to Diviners, Sleepless, and the like.
Silas couldn't help but click his tongue.
"Don't underestimate them. Sequence 9 Secret Supplicants are indeed not strong, and their main threat comes from being prone to losing control.
But their higher sequence abilities are quite terrifying, notorious for being sinister, insane, and all-encompassing." Dunn continued, "However, for confidentiality reasons, I can't tell you the specific details about them."
"Understood, thank you very much."
Silas nodded, half disappointed and half uneasy.
The disappointment came from not being able to learn more about the pathway, while the unease stemmed from Dunn's introduction, which had already given him a glimpse of the bleak prospects of this sequence.
"Speaking of which, if you really want to understand the abilities of a Secret Supplicant, the person you should be asking is yourself, right?"
Just then, the green-eyed Nighthawk who had been observing Silas but hadn't spoken until now interjected with a smile.
He had decent looks, dressed casually, and possessed a poet's romantic and carefree temperament.
Still not as handsome as me, though.
Silas muttered inwardly, nodding at the man. "May I ask, Mr. Nighthawk..."
"I'm Leonard Mitchell."
"Mr. Leonard, what do you mean by that?"
"No need to be so formal, just call me Leonard... What I mean is, potions come with information built in.
When you became a Secret Supplicant, the related knowledge was already imprinted in your brain."
The green-eyed Nighthawk who called himself Leonard tapped his forehead with his knuckles, smiling lightly. "Why don't you try meditating? You might just discover your own abilities."
It's that simple?
Silas found it somewhat incredible, but still decided to give it a try. "How exactly do I meditate?"
So Leonard taught him the method of meditation. Following his instructions, Silas closed his eyes, relaxed his mind, and tried to commune with his inner self.
The night streets were very quiet, and the other two in the carriage stopped talking as well.
For a moment, only the sound of the carriage rolling along the road could be heard. Soon, Silas cleared the thoughts in his mind and indeed discovered some things that didn't originally belong to him.
"I can feel it. It seems to be some knowledge about rituals."
He murmured, his expression shifting, his face full of disgust. "It's truly insane..."
It turned out that most of this ritual knowledge was extremely twisted and evil, instructing him in detail on how to please evil gods, including sacrificing flesh and blood, people's lives, and even their desperate and extreme emotions before death...
"What else?"
Dunn pressed on.
Being able to understand information about Secret Supplicants from a first-person perspective was also a fresh experience for him.
"There's also some... ritual magic."
Silas frowned, thinking carefully. "But many of the rituals are quite insane, based on pleasing evil gods, and the effects obtained are extremely distorted."
"Pretty much matches the internal records."
Dunn nodded. He noticed that the other's condition seemed somewhat off, so he spoke up, "That's enough, Silas. End your meditation."
"Okay."
Silas responded, but he didn't stop.
Hmm? I should clearly stop, so why am I still continuing to look deeper?
Silas felt somewhat puzzled, yet he kept going. In that deepest place, there seemed to be something... Some unstoppable force was driving him, making him dive deeper into his consciousness.
Who was the object of the Secret Supplicant's worship?
And who was the existence those rituals beseeched?
Insane, surging thoughts drove him on, making him pursue at all costs that grand entity's honorific name engraved in the deepest part of the potion. Like forcing a body through a narrow cave, even though his bones had long since shattered,
he still mobilized his muscles to wriggle deeper like a worm... Finally, he saw clearly, understood, and remembered. Under that inverted cross, in that blood-red sky, piled upon Sirius's shattered corpse, carved into it, filled with praise for the Lord! That was the Lord's name—
"The True Creator."
Silas trembled in fear, and in a strange language he had never learned, with both great joy and despair, he involuntarily chanted:
"The Lord who created everything..."
"Stop!"
A sudden shout jolted Silas awake from his hallucination.
Opening his eyes, he saw Dunn pressing on his shoulder, his other hand having already drawn his revolver, while Leonard had also stood up, bending at the waist as if ready for battle.
Dunn gazed at him with deep eyes, and seeing he had regained clarity, breathed a sigh of relief and slowly sat back down.
"What were you just doing?"
He demanded.
"Examining the knowledge carried by the potion, of course."
Silas was quite innocent.
"You were trying to invoke the True Creator's honorific name in Hermes!"
Dunn said seriously.
"What is that? Is it serious?"
Silas felt his head buzzing, aching and dizzy. During that meditation just now, he had obtained a large amount of mystical knowledge from the potion, overwhelming his mind.
From the corner of his eye, he once again saw irregular black lines and phantom limbs appearing in the corner of the carriage. They peered at Silas, emitting inexplicable whispers.
"Serious?"
Leonard snorted. "If you'd been fortunate enough to finish reciting the full honorific name just now, you'd already be a lunatic just like that Sirius!"
Silas couldn't help but swallow, instinctively glancing at the revolver in Dunn's hand.
In other words, they would have shot him directly...
Dunn put away his revolver and said:
"The True Creator is the evil god worshipped by the Aurora Order, the very 'Lord' Sirius spoke of. You said before that when you fell into hallucinations, you saw an inverted giant, right?"
"Yes."
Silas nodded, then suddenly froze.
Could it be...
"The inverted giant is that evil god's most iconic image."
Dunn said flatly.
"Hiss—"
Silas drew in a sharp breath, shocked and horrified.
A chill ran from the soles of his feet up his spine, finally exploding in his brain.
No wonder Sirius said he had the scent of the "Lord" on him...
"Why is this happening?"
He muttered unconsciously.
Why would Silas, before the transmigration, have seen such hallucinations?
And what connection might this have with his transmigration?
"I really was just examining the potion's knowledge. This honorific name came with the potion, and the moment I saw it, I couldn't help but recite it." He protested his innocence. "I didn't know what consequences saying it would have."
Thinking carefully, aside from the True Creator, there seemed to be another honorific name in the potion, but given the current situation, he'd better not mention it for now.
"I believe you, but don't do that again."
Dunn looked at him deeply.
Silas nodded repeatedly.
After that, the atmosphere in the carriage became strange and quiet. None of the three spoke again until the four-wheeled carriage carried them to their destination.
Blackthorn Security Company (the sign bearing these words was illuminated by gas streetlamps).
The entire building stood silently in the deep night, guarding the city's slumber.
The carriage door was pushed open, and the slightly cool night breeze brushed against his face. Silas's spirits lifted, and he suddenly remembered something.
"By the way, Mr. Dunn."
He spoke up. "My sister was a bit rude when she spoke to you earlier. She's young and doesn't know better, so please forgive her."
Dunn had already stepped one foot out of the carriage. Hearing him say this, he stopped and turned back.
"Do you think I would mind?"
He asked calmly.
You probably wouldn't mind, but I still have to say it.
Silas thought to himself.
Seeing he didn't respond, Dunn suddenly smiled and said something not quite related.
"Your sister takes very good care of you."
"Huh?"
Silas was a bit confused, then saw Dunn point to his fingernails, hair, clothes, and other areas.
"You were frequently trapped in hallucinations and half-mad before, unable to take care of yourself.
Yet your nails and hair have been carefully trimmed, and though your clothes are worn, they're also very clean.
This shows your sister has been attentively caring for you. And when facing me, a male police officer with far more power than her, even though she was afraid, she still dared to speak back, all to protect her brother."
Dunn placed his police cap on his head and stepped out of the carriage. His last words disappeared into the night breeze, "How could I mind a bit of rudeness from such a noble lady?"