Chapter 24: Divine Casket

Chapter 24: Divine Casket

The moment Prew activated the Light-Focusing Mirror, Lyman shut his eyes, avoiding the blinding flash.

"It's you!!!" Prew's voice cracked as he screamed.

Why did it have to be this damned prisoner again! The same one who had humiliated him last time!

"Did Aether Orolan send you?" Prew forced out through gritted teeth, "Why? For that little bastard Eric Mavo?"

"No one ordered me here."

Lyman pointed the dagger at him and stepped forward.

Prew stepped back in tandem.

So he wasn't working with Aether Orolan? Did he do all of this himself?

Had he controlled the animals? Had he schemed everything? Was he—

—coming for his life?!

This silver-haired young man before him wore a tattered prison uniform, covered in leaves and dirt, looking utterly disheveled—yet his advancing stance was like Death itself ruling the darkness, sending a chill of dread straight to Prew's core.

What kind of monster was locked away in Cape Prison!

He recalled the rumors about this silver-haired prisoner: a heretic captured by the knights, a heretic locked in the deepest, darkest cell...

Those two idiot Inquisitors had claimed the knights made a mistake, that they killed innocents to claim credit... bullshit, there was no mistake at all!

If this guy wasn't a vicious heretic, then no heretic existed in the world!

Hot blood gushed from his severed hand, bringing with it boundless despair.

He had lost his fingers. He could never rise in rank now. His future, his prospects... No! The Church had superhumans who could heal him—he could get them to treat him! There was still a chance! As long as he was alive, there was hope!

"Wait, we don't have to fight to the death, right?" Prew trembled from blood loss, "Just tell me what you want! That kid, Eric Mavo—I won't touch him anymore! I can also get my uncle to pardon you. You want justice, right? I can get my uncle to release Archbishop Mavo! We can work together!"

Lyman stopped.

"Fine," he said, "I won't kill you."

A wave of relief washed over Prew. As expected, every man has a price!

Just wait, you bastard—once I get back to Cape Prison, I'll have your head on a platter! I'll skin you alive and hang you from the city gates! I'll—

Lyman kicked out, catching Prew square in the gut.

Prew couldn't even scream as he flew backward, landing right at the giant bear's feet.

"He's all yours!" Lyman called to the bear.

Prew watched in despair as the bear turned toward him. Though temporarily blinded, the bear could still hear and smell.

"You lied!" Prew shrieked.

"I said I wouldn't kill you—I never said someone else wouldn't." Lyman shrugged. "You think I'm stupid? If the fatal wound came from a dagger, they'd get suspicious. I have to make the body look like it was mauled by a wild animal."

Prew realized this guy was serious. He backed away, begging, "Don't kill me! I swear I'll never hunt again! I swear, please—"

The bear located Prew by sound and let out a thunderous roar, raising its massive paw.

"It says, you really like bullying the weak, don't you?" Lyman helpfully translated.

Blood splattered. Prew heard the dull crack of his own bones breaking. So that's what it sounded like when someone else's bones broke—different from your own.

The bear let out another roar.

"It says, you really like snapping people's limbs, don't you?"

A heavy blow landed on Prew's legs. His eyes bulged as he tried to see what was happening, but all he could see was his legs bending at impossible angles. So this was how human limbs broke?

A black-and-white blur shot out from the woods, snarling as it lunged at Prew.

"It says, you really like barking orders with that mouth, don't you?"

Prew couldn't even scream anymore. His jaw was torn apart, blood bubbling from his throat.

The splattering blood was like a mad, chaotic feast for the gods—except in this one, he was the sacrifice.

Prew's final thought was: what kind of cruel deity, delighting in death, was being feasted on his flesh?

Was it satisfied?

***

"Lyman! You done yet!"

Red Lightning crept out of the bushes.

"They're coming! The other guards, and the Inquisitors. That white flash brought them all here."

"Is your vision back?" Lyman asked the bear.

"About time." The bear kicked the blood-soaked Prew aside.

"Then let's go—once the guards get here, you won't be able to slip away easily," Lyman said. "I still need to stage the scene."

The bear nodded and turned toward the deep woods.

"Human," it said, "don't ever set foot in this forest again."

Lyman had considered just vanishing into the woods. The guards all thought he was dead anyway. But on second thought, he decided against it. He didn't know the first thing about wilderness survival. Disney princesses living happily with little animals in the forest—that was just a fairy tale. In reality, he'd probably be lucky to last three days. Besides, the forest didn't exactly welcome humans.

"Hurry up, Lyman!" Red Lightning urged.

The raven cawed above them, passing along messages in real time. "Caw! Humans arrive in three minutes!"

Lyman started to feel the heat.

He looked down at the Blade of Revelation. This weird relic was his trophy—he had to take it.

His fingertips felt an odd pulse, as if something beneath the metal was beating—thump, thump—gradually syncing with Lyman's own heartbeat until he couldn't tell if it was his heart or the dagger coming to life.

Something glinted on the ground. Lyman bent down and picked it up—the Light-Focusing Mirror. A crack ran across its surface, but it still seemed usable.

He looked around. Both guards were dead; no one knew what had happened here. Captain Prew's fatal wounds were from the beast, so suspicion wouldn't fall on him.

As for the severed fingers—claiming Prew had accidentally cut himself while using the Blade of Revelation seemed plausible enough.

What about the Blade of Revelation and the Light-Focusing Mirror? Lyman wanted to take both trophies, but where could he hide them? In movies, prisoners smuggling contraband into jail hid it up their... no way, not that!

A sudden burning sensation flared up in his left palm. Lyman was already familiar with this feeling—it was the Book of the Evil God trying to get his attention.

Lyman thought about ignoring it and checking the Book of the Evil God after returning to the prison, but this time the heat was too intense, his palm was even starting to ache.

"This better be important!"

Lyman winced as he called forth the Book of the Evil God.

[You have completed the quest "Bloody Feast."]

"Reward unlocked: New Chapter."

Lyman turned to the table of contents. Beneath "Appendix I: World Overview," a new line of small print had appeared:

"Appendix II: Divine Casket"

The pages rustled on their own, with no wind to stir them, turning to the very end. After "World Overview," a new page had appeared out of nowhere, neatly filled with rows and columns of little boxes.

What the heck was this?

Divine Casket—was that the Evil God's box? A box...?

A lightbulb went off in Lyman's head. He shoved the Light-Focusing Mirror into the book.

A flash of light, and the mirror was gone, replaced by a mirror icon in one of the squares.

He'd nailed it! The so-called "Divine Casket" was basically Doraemon's four-dimensional pocket, a game's portable inventory bag!

He then shoved the Blade of Revelation in too, and a dagger icon appeared in another square.

All he had to do now was close the Book of the Evil God, and he could smuggle the loot out without anyone being the wiser. From now on, he could stash anything like this.

How convenient! The Book of the Evil God finally did something useful! Fine, you get one reluctant pat on the back!

"Caw! Humans are coming in one minute!" the raven called out.

After confirming nothing was left behind, Lyman gave Red Lightning and Fan Xing a knowing look.

The dog and horse turned and melted into the woods. Later, they'd find their own way back to Cape Prison, pretending they'd gotten lost and only found their way back thanks to good old "horse sense."

The giant bear gave Lyman a long, hard look, then turned to leave as well. At that moment, Lyman called out to stop it.

"Wait, can you do me one last favor?"

"Human, don't get greedy! I agreed to help you only once!" the bear roared.

"It's a simple favor! Just hit me!"

"...What?" The bear had never heard anything so ridiculous in its life.

Lyman rushed to explain: "The captain and the guards are all banged up, but I'm totally fine—doesn't that look suspicious? If I'm a victim too, they won't suspect me—so don't hit too hard, just make it look real."

The bear thought it over. That actually made sense.

So when the guards and the Inquisitor showed up, here's what they saw:

A bear as big as a small mountain swatted at Lyman, who spun through the air a few times before smacking down into a pile of dead leaves.

The bear chomped down on the silver-haired prisoner's leg and dragged him toward the forest. Lyman flailed his arms like crazy, clawing deep furrows in the dirt.

"Help! Please don't kill me! Save me, Your Honor! I don't wanna die!"

Nearby, two guards lay dead, and Captain Prew was sprawled in a pool of blood, barely even looking human anymore.

The gruesome sight stunned everyone. A few guards couldn't stop themselves from puking right there.

Aether Orolan's brow furrowed as he drew his longsword: "Monster! Face your death!"

Nashel was quicker. An empty sword hilt materialized in his hand in a flash, and a wave of invisible force blasted out, slicing toward the bear.

But whether his aim was off or the bear was just too quick, the invisible blade went a little wide, missed the beast, and instead sliced clean through a nearby tree.

A massive oak, as thick as a man could wrap his arms around, came crashing down, sending up a huge cloud of dust. The bear let out a furious roar, shot the group a vicious glare, dropped its prey, and vanished into the dust and trees in the blink of an eye.

"Go after it!" Deputy Captain Slavin shouted.

"Idiot, save the man first!" Aether snapped.

Slavin quickly changed his tune: "Save the captain first!"

The men swarmed around Captain Prew. The captain was now a bloody mess—all four limbs bent backward at the joints, his jaw completely shattered and deformed, even his throat visible.

Slavin's vision went dark. The captain was dead—what was he supposed to do now? He had been sent by His Excellency the Missionary to protect the captain. With the mission failed, how could he return to the Holy City? Wouldn't going back be walking to his own death? And how could these two Inquisitors possibly let him, the captain's trusted man, go free?

"Ah! Prisoner 1154 is still alive!"

The stable hand's overjoyed voice rang out. He knelt beside the groaning Lyman, trying to help him up.

"Don't move him—you might cause further injury," Aether directed. "Quick, make a stretcher and carry him back!"

The guards scrambled to cut branches, chaos ensuing. When the stretcher was ready and Lyman was lifted onto it, his wails rose a full octave.

"I thought you were done for!" the stable hand said, weeping with joy. "How did you end up here? No, that doesn't matter now. Come on, let's get back to the prison—once the doctor sees you, everything will be fine!"

In the treetops, a flock of ravens folded their wings, like dark musical notes, watching the humans' frantic movements with keen interest.

"Caw! What did I tell you? Humans killing each other is the best entertainment!"

"Next time something this fun happens, I want in too!"

"Worth the trip, worth the trip!"

"Come on, let's head to the docks and grab some bread!"

The birds cackled shrilly, scattering in all directions, black feathers filling the air.

***

Deputy Captain Edton had been listless all day.

Early that morning, Captain Prew had led a large group of subordinates out hunting. Edton was also a deputy captain, yet no one had invited him along—instead, he'd been assigned the menial task of supervising the big cleanup. By noon, the Warden had called him to set up the banquet hall, preparing to welcome the captain and his men back.

Even if he wasn't exactly a Holy Nation elite, he was at least diligent and hardworking. Just because he wasn't part of Captain Prew's inner circle, he always got this kind of treatment... Sigh, when would it ever end!

"Deputy Captain Edton, hurry! You need to see this!"

The terrified shout from the guard on the watchtower snapped Edton out of his thoughts.

He scrambled up the tower. Halfway up, his face was illuminated by a blinding light.

From the heart of the forest that dominated most of the prison island, a towering pillar of light suddenly shot into the sky, parting the clouds.

Eton was dumbfounded. "What is that?!"

The window on the top floor of the prison's main building burst open with a bang, and the Warden stuck his round body out, his eyes bulging nearly out of their sockets.

"Sir, what's happening?" Eton shouted.

"How would I know?!" the Warden shrieked. "Whatever it is, it's serious! Send men into the forest now!"

Eton immediately got a team together to head out. The prison was tense with anxiety, and the prisoners exchanged uneasy glances. Nikola the scholar, who was plastering the wall, fidgeted and rubbed his hands: "Tsk, Lyman wouldn't get into trouble, would he? Strange, why did those dogs keep staring at me?"

At dusk, the hunting party finally came back.

Instead of coming back loaded with game, they all returned empty-handed, and even a few horses were missing.

The only thing they'd gained was a stretcher carrying an unconscious Lyman.

The Warden stood by the gate, watching the downcast group, and noticed a few people were missing.

"Where's Enoch?" the Warden went into a panic.

The guards looked grim. They hung their heads, not daring to look the Warden in the eye, and silently parted to reveal the wooden sleds behind them.

On three sleds lay three mangled bodies.

The Warden stumbled and slumped to the ground.

"The dead can't come back. My condolences," Aether said flatly.

The Warden's face was ashen, completely beside himself: "Impossible... You just went out hunting... How could this happen..."

Aether gave a brief rundown of everything they'd run into in the forest.

"...We got split up along the way, and it wasn't until I spotted that white light that I found Captain Prew. But it was already too late." He shook his head. "We took a quick look around the scene. Captain Prew must've tripped into a trap, then been attacked by a huge bear. Probably the mother of the cub he killed a few days back."

Deputy Captain Slavin was glaring at him from the side, his eyes wide with terror.

That was the trap they'd dug just a few days ago! Why hadn't he found it when he followed the markers, yet Captain Prew had fallen in? He couldn't fathom it!

It had to be a scheme by those two Inquisitors! They'd seen through the Captain's plan from the start and used it to take him out!

Though he had no evidence, they were the only ones with both the motive and the means!

The Warden nearly lost his mind right then and there. He'd only gotten this job despite his mediocre skills because of His Excellency the Missionary's backing. He needed someone to protect his nephew, so he'd promoted the loyal, reliable Warden.

But under his watch, Prew was dead. How was he supposed to explain this to the Preacher General? Was his career completely over?

"But there's still some good news!" Nashel's cheerful tone didn't fit the grim mood at all.

The Warden looked up, a flicker of hope in his eyes: "What?"

"A prisoner got attacked too, but he's still alive!" Nashel said excitedly. "Someone get him to the infirmary!"

—Since when is that good news?! A worthless prisoner's life doesn't even come close to the Missionary's nephew?!

The Warden wanted to curse out loud, but he didn't even have the strength.

Now he just wanted to salvage what he could and have something to tell the Holy City, or he'd lose not just his job but maybe his life.

"Start writing the report, sir," Aether said, dismounting from his horse. "Cause of death: mauled by a wild beast while hunting. Everyone knows Captain Prew loved hunting."

"He's dead... He's really dead..." the Warden muttered.

"Handle the funeral arrangements," Aether said. "Bury him here, or send the body back to the Holy City?"

The Warden suddenly jumped up and grabbed the hem of Aether's white robe.

"Wait! Enoch's dead, so what about his relic?"

"Normally it'd be returned to the family," Aether said.

"That's not what I mean!" the Warden panted, looking up with bloodshot eyes. "I mean the 'relic' His Excellency the Missionary gave him! Where is it?!"

Aether frowned slightly: "Captain Prew had something that valuable? What is it?"

"A dagger called the Blade of Revelation!" the Warden sweated profusely. "That was given... I mean 'lent' to Captain Prew by the Missionary—it's Church property! The man can die, but that thing can't be lost, no matter what!"

The Inquisitor thought for a moment: "I didn't see any dagger at the scene. Did any of you?"

He jerked his chin toward the subordinates: "Any of you know where Captain Prew's 'relic' is?"

The subordinates all shook their heads, staring at the ground with guilty looks. They were too worried about saving their own skins to care about some 'relic.'

"Maybe it's still in the forest," Nashel said carelessly. "We can send someone to look for it tomorrow. It's getting dark."

Deputy Captain Slavin broke into a cold sweat. Right, the Captain's Blade of Revelation! How could he have forgotten about that! The Captain must've been set up by those two Inquisitors, and the Blade probably ended up in their hands!

"Maybe someone swiped it," he said darkly. "That's an extremely precious 'relic'—someone might've pocketed it. I suggest everyone who went on the hunt gets searched!"