Jackal Among Snakes

Chapter 661

Chapter 661: Bad Blood

“I suspect the man’s head burst into gore due to the pressure of containing Gerechtigkeit, not out of any deliberate act,” Raven said as he studied the corpse.

Anneliese looked at him as he turned the body over in his hands. “I might concur—that force, that pressure… it strained against the vessel until it could deform no more before bursting free. But how do you explain the image on the wall?”

All three of them gazed at what could only be called a painting of a fire. It lost neither shape nor color no matter how long it persisted.

“A final message, perhaps. Or a demonstration he is incapable of suppressing what he really is. Fire; uncontrolled destruction that eats all it can to grow, and leaves scars in that which it cannot burn. It may signify that preparation he so grandly boasted of.” The Alchemist raised his huge gray hand to the image, ruining the piece with a stroke of his hand. “Let this swipe of my hand demonstrate what his plan should mean to us.”

Argrave found himself clenching his hands together, and relaxed with a deliberate deep breath. Anneliese watched him, asking, “You look like you’re holding back from saying something.”

“Well.” He looked up. “It’s clear from the rumors surfacing about me that he listens to all we say.”

“And?” Anneliese raised a brow. “He is not yet here on this realm. He cannot respond to our plans as we can to his.”

“It’s not a plan, it’s…” Argrave closed his eyes, reimagining the brief exchange of words he’d had. “If that was a mere fragment of his being, I find it hard to imagine how all of us will face that.”

Raven put his huge hand on Argrave’s shoulder. “Face him as Orion did. Raging against the end, defiant in your steady pursuit of a fate unknown.”

Argrave took the rare comfort from Raven in stride, nodding until he remembered something. “We have to go see Orion,” he told Anneliese, and her eyes brightened at the reminder.

“Of course,” she nodded firmly. “He’s with his mother.”

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grow back in some areas. She was thin, almost dreadfully so—Argrave’s thigh might’ve been thicker than her waist. But in her sapphire-like blue eyes, there was a brightness that Argrave had never before seen, and she did not thrash at unseen demons as

ever there was a demonstration victory over Gerechtigkeit’s mental

lips. According to Orion, she had fully returned to her old self. The madness, which was almost assuredly inflicted on her by Gerechtigkeit, had been remedied. In particular, putting

in. “I must depart, mother. Rest

she said in a quiet, tender voice that sounded

her on the cheek, then rose to his feet. He walked to where Argrave and Anneliese waited, then gestured for them to leave the

burn our civilization to ash. We must stand in stark defiance to that, as ever.” He looked between them. “But I speak enough. You’ve come to hear the results of my work, have you

answered with a curt nod. “And… to ask permission about a matter regarding your

eyes. “My mother is well again. I cannot arrogantly decide on her behalf what she should do with what is hers. All I would ask, as a filial son,

has been taken without authorization.

enough.” Argrave loosely grabbed Orion’s elbow, pulling him along. “So, let’s talk about your

to speak, strain my brain until I found the power of the mind that our ancestors possess. If it were to happen, it would have. Ideas eluded me, and so I sought inspiration from those of the past—those that have

he said ‘others.’ Orion had come to value himself a good deal more, and had become far more grounded as a person. That said, he still retained certain eccentric aspects to his personality. Foremost among them was a disregard for many

revealed themselves one after another. There was the decidedly plain-looking Boarmask, lifting

most outlandish figures present—Mial, elven daughter the Castellan of the Empty, sat at a desk with several old scrolls laid out before her. Ingo, the near-surrogate son of Castro, had also joined this motley crew. He and Orion were getting on quite well, both of them being able to relate to one another

himself wasn’t foolish—his own loyal guard, once the Waxknights, had been cured of their affliction in House Quadreign’s black fire. Now, these elite

commanding voice as he entered

some manner of respect—bowed heads at the least, and kneeling at the most. Orion looked between them all like a

like a kitten before him. “I instructed you

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