Once the Nighthawk group reached the carriage, Klein glanced suspiciously out the window and asked, "Won't 2-049 affect the ordinary people on the streets?"
Good question. Just from down there, to the carriage, six incidents happened. Two of which targeted our dear Seer himself.
The beautiful, black-haired Lorotta responded in a lazy tone, "No worries. 2-049 will target humanoid creatures within five meters of it first. The closer you are to it, the easier it is for you to be chosen. As long as there are three people around it, those nearby won't be affected when the carriage passes."
Hmm... now that I think about it, it never targeted me.
Everyone watched each other closely for any changes, except Lorotta, who wore a carefree expression. At times, she casually took in the sights of Tingen's less-than-clean streets, and at other moments, she praised Backlund's underground water system.
Better not say anything. I don't want them pestering me about moving to Backlund again.
Soon after, the carriage came to a stop in front of an unfamiliar building. The group of six made their way up to the third floor, constantly observing one another. The door to Ray Bieber's house was marked with the Tingen Police Department's symbol, indicating that entry was restricted.
As Dunn stretched, he pulled out a key and unlocked the newly replaced lock, turning to allow Aiur Harson, who was carrying the black chest, to enter first.
Here we go again.
Thump!
Thump! Thump! Thump!
The Sealed Artifact inside the black chest thumped violently, even more intense than before.
Thump! Thump! Thump!
Let's test my theory.
Irina quickly noticed Dunn's movements slowing down, but she pretended not to see it, feigning ignorance. From the corner of her eye, she saw Klein mirroring the captain's sluggish actions.
For now, theory confirmed. But I don't like where this is headed.
Before she could intervene, Lorotta and Borgia moved faster, snapping Dunn and Klein out of their stupor.
The seer hastily questioned, "Didn't you say that 2-049 can only affect one person at a time?"
Aiur Harson replied in a mechanical tone, "When Sealed Artifact 2-049 enters berserk mode, it can affect up to two people simultaneously. This confirms that Ray Bieber is indeed a descendant of the Antigonus family."
Lorotta let out a soft laugh. She looked at Klein and said, "2-049 becomes very agitated when it encounters a descendant of the Antigonus family, even if only a trace of their scent remains. Its abilities also increase considerably. I believe you'd be able to understand its feelings."
Klein raised an eyebrow, curious. "So... is it a living creature?"
Lorotta smiled but didn't answer directly. "You'll find out soon enough. As long as Ray Bieber hasn't escaped Tingen, 2-049 will lead us to him."
Amid the loud, violent thumping from the chest, they locked the door, descended the stairs, and returned to the carriage.
No one gave it a second glance. I think they didn't notice.
Aiur Harson peered out the window several times, ensuring there were no pedestrians within a five-meter radius. Satisfied, he placed the black chest on the floor and twisted the mechanical switch to release its spiritual restraints.
The violent thumping stopped abruptly, plunging the carriage into an eerie silence. Not even the Nighthawks' breaths could be heard.
Creak!
The chest fell open, and a slender brown arm extended out, no thicker than a child's finger.
Creepy ass puppet.
Two arms pressed forward one after another as an object, about the size of a normal human's palm, appeared bit by bit in front of the Nighthawks. It had distinct elbow, finger, and knee joints. Covered in an oil-stained brown cloth, its face was painted like a clown, with streaks of red and yellow.
Irina shifted uncomfortably, crossing both her arms and legs in displeasure.
2-049 lifted its head, its pure black eyes locking onto Klein. Its rigid mouth slowly parted, revealing a twisted clown-like smile.
Irina's head started spinning, her vision clouding. Her movements slowed, and a cold, unfamiliar chill crept down her spine. T-This is not how the novel described being attacked by 2-049...
Its lips continued to part, revealing a dark, gaping maw. Klein, still locked in its gaze, felt his hair stand on end as a wave of uncontrollable terror surged through his heart.
Irina felt as though she were floating, watching her surroundings from outside her own body. She observed Dunn noticing Klein's sluggish arm movements and pushing him heavily. For her, it felt as if an unseen narrator was guiding every single movement inside the carriage, but only she could hear it.
This makes no sense. It's my body, why can't I control it?
Her sight darkened further, her head assaulted with fragments of undeciphered knowledge. She could feel Aiur Harson pushing her arm, but she refrained from moving. It's not the puppet... but...
It wasn't the puppet causing the disturbance. It had never targeted her before, and she was certain it wouldn't start now. That I know.
Dunn was now pushing her other arm, and all eyes were on her. She could feel and see everything, even though her body felt foreign, and her vision had turned pitch black. Not now, Captain...
The History Teacher began reviewing everything she'd read in the novel: the first volume, 2-049, the Antigonus Notebook... but no answers came. Her thoughts circled back, starting again from the beginning. Unconsciously, her hand drifted to her pocket mirror, and she gripped it, unaware of the wary gazes from her fellow Nighthawks. How could I forget? I even told Dunn about it, back when I returned from the Library.
Her vision cleared instantly, the strange voice in her head vanishing as if nothing had happened. She looked up, meeting Aiur Harson's cautious gaze, and turned towards Dunn. "Hey Cap, do you recall when I described the abilities of my Sequence?"
That man, Aiur Harson, probably thinks I fell under the puppet's control...
Dunn nodded, recalling the conversation. "An inoffensive Sequence that focuses on objects, their age, contents, and the various abilities they might have."
Leonard chimed in, adding, "Today, we even saw it go as far as looking through sealed boxes and identifying sealed artifacts."
The captain shot him a questioning look, but Leonard gestured for him to hold off on further explanations.
Irina's smile widened as she reminded them of an important detail. "I also mentioned something about a protection."
It took Dunn a moment to remember, but fortunately, Leonard was there. "You said you've always had it but never realized. You also hinted that it's somehow dormant."
She grinned. "Well, it's not so dormant anymore. Actually, I can feel it up and running... but, damn, does it feel awful when it activates!"
Klein's voice broke through next. "That explains why you were never attacked during the whole trip. We had to wake each other up numerous times, but never you."
Points to the Seer for paying attention to everything and everyone.
The Nighthawks quietly agreed, some pointing out how the earlier events in the Keeper's room had aligned with Klein's observation. Both Klein and Dunn expressed their curiosity and confusion about those moments.
Borgia spoke next, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Well, isn't that just perfect."
You and your sarcasm... I don't like your personality.
Lorotta chuckled and smoothly changed the subject, "As Klein said earlier, 2-049 is getting stronger. It even seems to like you, Seer. But don't worry. It's a relatively less dangerous Grade 2 Sealed Artifact."
With her naturally languid voice, Lorotta watched as the puppet, its joints unnervingly human-like, stood and tottered toward the left.
This sudden action drew everyone's focus back to the mission. The puppet moved awkwardly, like a steam engine rusting from a lack of oil. Aiur Harson snapped out of his daze as Dunn woke him. Extending and bending his arms, Aiur pointed in the direction the puppet was heading. "Over there!"
Leonard, who was driving the carriage, couldn't take it through the building, so he was forced to detour. Throughout the trip, 2-049 kept adjusting its direction like a compass locked onto the Antigonus family's trail.
During the silence, Dunn seized the moment to ask what had happened earlier. The other Nightmare in the group briefly explained the earlier events in the Keeper's room and then reiterated his offer to Irina. "The offer I made earlier still stands, Miss Irina. There are simply better opportunities in a bigger city."
Kindly, fuck you and your offer. How many times do I have to refuse? I'm not moving to Backlund. Some men just can't take no for an answer, can they?
With a strained smile, Irina declined again. "I must sadly refuse your kind offer. I'm quite satisfied with my current position and the 'opportunities,' as you said. Besides, I don't believe now is the appropriate time."
The Nightmare didn't reply, instead continuing to give Leonard occasional directions to adjust the carriage's course.
Ass. I liked you at first... now look at you, ignoring me like that.
Each time the strange puppet reached the edge of the carriage, Aiur Harson would pull it back, resetting its course.
Every time it happened, 2-049's mouth would open, and two people would be under its influence simultaneously. Yet, it never targeted the History Teacher.
The carriage sped along and soon arrived at the harbor, where warehouses were clustered.
Breathe in. Breathe out. I'm prepared for it.
After circling the area a few times, they confirmed that 2-049 was heading toward the innermost grayish-white warehouse. Aiur Harson's expression turned solemn as he carefully grabbed the puppet and stuffed it back into the black chest.
Thump! Thump! Thump!
Under constant, ferocious knocking, Aiur woke up again and again with the help of Borgia and Lorotta. With great effort, he activated the mechanism, injecting his spirituality into the star and crimson symbols on the chest.
That puppet knows how to hold a grudge. Go, puppet, go. That man has been getting on my nerves for a while now.
As the formless seal reappeared, Aiur let out a long, heavy breath.
Dunn Smith's voice came low and calm. "Let's get going."
Irina began twirling a lock of hair, shifting uncomfortably. She waited for everyone else to leave, positioning herself as the last in line. Here we go. My first actual fight... I'd be lying if I said I wasn't mildly scared.
The Captain spoke again. "Leonard, tying the horse here will do."
Dressed in windbreakers, suits, or shirts, the seven Nighthawks left the carriage and walked toward the warehouse. As they did, they uniformly stretched and bent their arms.
This looks so comical, I swear. I'd be laughing my ass off if I didn't know what was about to happen.
As they approached the warehouse door, Dunn quietly instructed Irina to stay a few steps behind. The Captain lowered his hand, making a pressing gesture, signaling everyone to stop ten meters from the door.
He then turned to the seer. "Klein, divine if there's any danger in the warehouse. It'd be better if you could tell the level of it as well."
He turned and looked at Irina, his gray eyes deep and calm, completely devoid of fear. "Irina, try searching for something unusual. Anything that stands out."
She activated her Spirit Vision and began inspecting the warehouse, completely missing Klein's divination. Shortly after, he spoke honestly. "There's danger. Great danger."
No shit, Sherlock—Oh, wait, does that count as a spoiler? Meh.
He was about to put away his topaz pendulum when Leonard, who had been silent until now, suddenly spoke. "Divine if there's danger around us too."
That's my cue to start looking around. Thanks Pallez. I'm sure that was his idea.
Dunn nodded in agreement. "Yes, I'm worried the Secret Order might not have given up. They could have Ray Bieber's house under surveillance. They might've followed us here and could cause trouble at a critical moment."
Irina started noticing strange colors and shapes. An unpleasant feeling crept up her spine, but she chose to stay silent. I don't want to change the story too much. I just need to do the bare minimum to stop the worst from happening. I've already drawn too much attention to myself.
Klein spoke carefully, a tension in his voice. "There's danger surrounding us."
Here it comes. I'm ready.
Just as Klein finished speaking, an orange-yellow fireball, the size of a fist, shot toward them at blazing speed, aiming straight for the middle of the group.
Dunn, already prepared, raised his revolver before Klein had finished his divination. He aimed and pulled the trigger.
Bang!
The fireball remained unaffected, continuing its original trajectory, forcing the group to scatter.
When the fireball struck, Irina turned to Klein, seeing the realization hit him. You get it now, don't you? The greater danger isn't just the clowns, it's 2-049 and...
The Nighthawks split into two groups, dodging in perfect sync. Irina, however, was half-dragged by Leonard, turning her group into a trio with Klein.
Poof!
The fireball hit the ground, leaving no trace, not even stirring dust. It vanished as if nothing had happened.
Aiur Harson wasted no time. He lifted the black chest and tossed it ten meters away.
Good call man.
He then shouted, "Stay away from it! Watch it!"
Before he even finished, Leonard and Borgia had already approached, standing seven meters away from the chest to prevent anyone from getting too close.
Meanwhile, Dunn and Lorotta, each holding guns, took positions beside Aiur, who had drawn a thin silver sword. They formed a crescent shape as they advanced toward the origin of the fireball, keeping an eye on the surrounding areas.
Irina watched as Klein sighed in relief. Oh, how much you'll come to regret that, my dear. Limited range or not, the moment you forget about the danger, is when it strikes you in the back.
The history teacher remained close to the group as Klein rolled and stood up, stuffing his topaz pendulum into his pocket with one hand while reaching for his revolver with the other.
Look at everyone fighting, and then there's me... just chilling in the background. Hey, the puppet won't attack me. Maybe I should grab some popcorn and watch the show with it.
She glanced over at the puppet. Borgia caught her in the act. "Don't even think about going near it. We don't know how long that protection of yours will last. Focus on the fight."
Ehh... I wasn't exactly worried about that. Besides, everyone's got a weapon except me. No, wait—I do have one. I'm just terrible at shooting.
Aiur Harson slowed down, his expression becoming serene and peaceful. He opened his mouth and began to recite a calm, poetic verse, "When once the sun sinks in the west,
And dewdrops pearl the evening's breast;
Almost as pale as moonbeams are,
Or its companionable star,
The evening primrose opens anew,
Its delicate blossoms to the dew;
And, hermit-like, shunning the light..."
The recital reverberated around them, and everyone noticeably relaxed—except for Irina. Is this part of the protection? Poems don't affect me? Something similar happened with Leonard... just how much does it cover?
As Aiur's voice echoed, the large wooden crates around them seemed to ripple like water. A man wearing a black tuxedo and a halved top hat appeared, his face painted in three pastel colors—red, yellow, and white. His lips were arched unnaturally high like a clown, a ridiculous contrast to his formal attire.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
Lorotta, the black-haired sharpshooter, charged forward quickly, a gun in one hand and her other hand clenched into a fist. She reached the suited clown in just a few steps. The clown, seemingly affected by Aiur's poem, swayed with a peaceful expression in his eyes. He showed no desire to retaliate.
Lorotta tilted her body with a boxer's grace, pulling back her fist and punching toward the clown's face.
Bang!
The air crackled as the suited clown shattered like a mirror, fragments evaporating into thin air.
In an instant, the clown reappeared in the shadows of the nearby crates, his figure outlined in the dim light. Illusions.
He grinned comically, pressing down on his halved top hat with one hand and forming a finger gun with the other.
"Dodge!" Irina yelled suddenly.
Bang!
The sound of a shot rang out, but Lorotta dodged, rolling to the floor just in time. Nothing happened. It was a fake one. Shit, I can't remember which shot is real and which isn't.
Dunn and Aiur lifted their guns and fired steadily at the clown, who evaded them with skill, while Lorotta charged forward again.
This time, the clown didn't have time to dodge. He raised his arm defensively as Dunn and Aiur shot again. Flames erupted from the clown and spread toward Lorotta.
Bang! Bang!
Dunn and Aiur's shots hit the ball of flame. Why does shooting look so damn easy for them? And why is my aim so bad?! Irina thought in frustration.
The flames quickly burned out, leaving only black ashes floating in the air. But once again, the suited clown appeared behind the wooden crates, as if nothing had happened.
He pointed his finger gun at Lorotta once more.
You know what? As long as they don't aim at me, I'll be fine... wait—
Irina's Spirit Vision flickered, and she saw something different this time. "It's real!" she shouted.
Bang!
Amid the illusory gunfire, Lorotta stopped in her tracks, quickly dodging after hearing Irina's warning. Mud splattered as a real bullet hit the ground where she had been standing.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The clown shot at Dunn and Aiur, hiding and reappearing at random, making it hard to predict his movements.
Seeing this, Lorotta narrowed her eyes and raised the dull gold revolver in her left hand. The clown barely avoided the shot, and the battle continued, with Irina shouting warnings whenever she sensed real bullets.
Should I start cheering them on? A crowd has to be supportive, after all.
Aiur recited another poem, but the clown simply scratched his ear. Stuffed ears? Damn genius.
Suddenly, another figure appeared on top of a nearby warehouse, sprinting toward where Ray Bieber was hiding. This new figure was dressed in a grayish-white uniform, like a dock worker, with a painted face in the same red, yellow, and white clown colors.
Okay, is this a trend? Is clown makeup a requirement for—
Bang!
The figure jerked to a stop, blood spraying into the air. Irina looked over and saw Klein, his lucky shot having hit the clown. Main character plot armor. He's the only one who's managed to hit anything.
Out of the corner of her eye, Irina noticed the clown, perched on top of the warehouse, pointing a finger gun again. Her Spirit Vision screamed a warning—a real bullet, not an illusion this time.
Wait—this one's... is he aiming at me?!
Before she could react, the shot was fired.
Bang!