Lord of the Mysteries

Vines grew all over the dilapidated garden outside the glass windows. The river flowed softly, reflecting the stars in the sky as warm glows suffused out of the nearby buildings.

Everything was silent, as if awaiting the arrival of night.

Trissy, who had ordinary features which combined to make her look surprisingly beautiful, retracted her gaze and walked quickly towards the clothes rack to retrieve a long black robe fitted with a hood.

She quickly put the robe on, fastened the buttons and belt before pulling the hood over her head, transforming herself into an Assassin.

Trissy raised her right hand and swiped her face, immediately turning her appearance under the hood blurry.

Right on the heels of that, she grabbed a handful of shimmering powder from the hidden pouch near her waist and scattered it over herself while reciting an incantation.

Trissy’s figure started to disappear bit by bit, her outline vanishing like how pencil marks were being erased by an eraser.

She silently left the bedroom after completing her concealment spell. She moved to the opposite room and then opened the non-grilled window.

With a light leap, Trissy stood on the window sill and looked over the grassy plains to the back of the building. She looked down at the steel fence that had seemingly fused with the night. There, she saw Corpse Collector Frye who was silently making his way over the fence.

She took in a deep breath and fluttered down like a feather, stepping onto the grassy field without a sound.

Frye, who was wearing a black windbreaker, cautiously surveyed the surroundings with his custom revolver in his hand, seeking out vengeful spirits or evil spirits that might appear.

He could see such entities directly!

Trissy approached Frye silently, made her way behind him. It was unknown when a dagger smeared with ‘black paint’ appeared in her hand.

Poof!

She struck quickly, plunging the dagger into Frye’s lower back.

But at this moment, the scene in front of her shattered, as if everything was an illusion.

Trissy realized that she was still standing on the window sill, still looking over the grassy field and the steel fence.

Except this time around, it wasn’t only Corpse Collector Frye who was standing outside the fence. There was also Leonard Mitchell who was aiming straight at the window sill, as well as Dunn Smith. The captain of the Nighthawks was hunched over as he pressed down on his glabella, his eyes closed as formless ripples spread outwards from him.

Trissy’s pupils constricted. She understood that everything that had happened was just a dream. She had fallen asleep unknowingly!

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Leonard and Frye fired three shots, accurately hitting the invisible target who was still waking up from her reverie.

Crack!

appear, first cracking, then completely shattering into fragments of a rough

escape. She followed the corridor and the

a person. Formless, transparent figures were numbly pacing around

had lost her concealment, felt her temperature drop every time she passed through the spirits. She could no longer control her shivers when she finally reached

a figurine of a deity carved out of bone placed in the

man’s head, with only a mere indication of her eyes, but

head to her heels, each strand clear and thick, as if they were poisonous snakes

tip of every strand of hair, some closed, others

around the figurine. The craftsmanship of the puppets was crude. Names and relevant information were written

candles on the table, flickering with a

deity’s figurine and

the flames of the candles before picking

Whoosh!

winds howled fiercely as they shook the

glass flew around in all

into the sacrificial altar recklessly. He shivered, feeling

his heels as though they had

Beyonder would have turned

trigger. It was as if he could see who the enemy was,

Bang!

pierced the air, causing a shrill howl

Frye regained

who wanted to reach the second floor by avoiding a frontal assault on the altar, was similarly affected by the cold winds. His body froze

engulfed Dunn, as if a

imbued with life. Dunn’s facial

about to be suffocated, stomped down with both feet. He straightened his knees and twisted his waist,

head with his left hand and yanked

Bang!

at the other half of the curtain

as a dark

Whoosh!

also hit by the cold sinister winds infused with the intense sensation of

suddenly extended, wrapping themselves around his heels. A black shadow hurled

had become rigid, failed to fire in time. He could only pull back his shoulder and raise his

smashed into his forearm, the thorns on its body

bright-red