As the rabbit's foot necklace was removed from the creature, it no longer showed any trace of rage.
I deactivated my ability, and Wally hopped down from my shoulder. I gently cradled the cursed object in my hands.
"New Law—" Sylvia began to cast another spell, but her words faltered as her eyes widened.
Before me, golden lotuses bloomed in every direction. I stood at their center, one hand raised in prayer, bidding farewell to the spectral entity.
The presence had vanished—gone without resistance, without a sound.
Reinhardt was about to ask what had happened, but the moment his eyes fell on the field of golden lotuses, he understood. The calamity—the thing that could have annihilated an entire country had we failed to subdue it—was gone.
Sylvia and Reinhardt slowly stepped forward, unsure of how to respond. With a bit of hesitation, they joined me in prayer, each raising one hand like I had, awkwardly mimicking a monk's gesture. They didn't know how monks prayed—but in that moment, it didn't matter.
The year I spent at the Buddhist Temple taught me many things—even though they never taught me a single technique. I wasn't there long enough for that.
They never showed me how to hold a funeral either... but watching them silently pray for the souls of the departed was a lesson in itself. Sometimes, silence is the purest form of comfort a soul can receive.
And now... even though I was praying for the soul of a creature twisted by a cursed object, it didn't matter to me—not this time.
Humans can be greedy... hateful... manipulative.
But they can also be kind... compassionate... forgiving.
Even if the world chooses to follow only one of those paths... what compels me to follow it too?
"Since we've destroyed the cursed object... let's head back," I said, turning away from the golden lotuses.
"Don't we need some kind of proof?" Sylvia asked as Reinhardt moved over to lift the half-conscious Grunthar, slinging him over his shoulder like dead weight.
"They've already verified it through our Codexes. The Academy's network syncs directly with ours," I replied just as a pool of black liquid began forming beneath Reinhardt's feet.
Sylvia sighed and opened her Codex, checking to confirm the mission report. "Still feels like a massive invasion of privacy..."
"That's why I told you to get a separate Codex—one not hardwired into your brain," I said, nodding toward Wally. "He holds mine."
"The brain surgeons on Earth are still stuck in the Stone Age," Sylvia muttered. "If you volunteered, though... I might have considered it."
I laughed as we approached the dark portal. "And risk killing the next head of the Extraterrestrial Alliance? Tempting... but no thanks."
Without another word, we stepped into the darkness.
This time, there were no voidspawns chasing us. The storm had finally passed—along with the wielder of the cursed object.
"What were his last moments like?" Grunthar asked. He had nearly recovered now, his voice steadier.
"Peaceful... I felt happiness in him," I replied, eyes distant. "There was no greed, no hunger—none of that pain that had twisted him. Just... release. His journey ended without suffering."
Reinhardt and Sylvia stayed silent. They hadn't felt what we did. To them, he was just another monster. But without having experienced the agony that creature endured... how could they truly understand?
"...Do you think... trolls—no... races like us—go to the same place after death?" Grunthar asked hesitantly.
I paused, then shook my head slightly. "I don't have an answer for that..." I said softly. The uncertainty in my voice seemed to weigh on him.
"But... wherever he is," I added after a beat, "I believe... he can finally live the life he longed for."
Grunthar closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. "Then... forgive me. I'd like to hold a funeral for him before we leave Ravenia."
"Do as you wish," I said, nodding. "We have a day to spare. We leave tomorrow."
"What about you two?" I asked, turning to them.
"I would like to attend the funeral with him, young master," Reinhardt said firmly.
"I have a few things to take care of," Sylvia replied. "But I'll meet you before we leave."
"And you?" she asked.
"I've got a friend to visit," I replied.
After that battle, we all needed time—time to rest, to breathe, to feel human again. The exhaustion clung to us like wet clothes, heavy and inescapable. Still, recovery had its perks… for one, it gave me the perfect excuse to slip away from Sylvia's watchful eyes and secure the item I was meant to retrieve from Loken.
As I adjusted my coat and prepared to leave, Sylvia asked the question with a touch of disbelief.
"How many friends do you have around the world?"
I smiled, just slightly. "Friends? That's a strong word. Let's just say I've had the pleasure of meeting... people. A locksmith in Yuldera who taught me how to open a vault with two fingers and a wine cork. A librarian in Elseth who catalogued forbidden spells by moonlight. Even a pirate queen in the Southern Shards—remarkable woman, had a thing for cursed jewelry."
I paused, adjusting my cuffs. "I ran away a lot. When you're born with a Path like mine—the Wisdom Path—you're not taught things, you're consumed by them. Questions become obsessions. Obsessions become prisons. And that mansion I grew up in? It was less a home and more... a gilded labyrinth, each hallway echoing with unanswered riddles."
Sylvia frowned. "That sounds dramatic."
I tilted my head. "Perhaps. But your Law Path? It's content with order. It doesn't gnaw at your mind unless you stray. Me? Mine whispers even when I sleep."
She gave a soft sigh. "It has its ups and downs."
"Don't we all?" I replied, as we parted ways.
I've seen how trolls mourn the dead when there's no body to bury. No pyres. No graves. Just a dance—raw, primal, deliberate—meant to tether memories to motion, loss to rhythm. It's strangely poetic… but I had other obligations.
The kind that required a different sort of ritual. One involving shadows, smuggling, and silent handshakes done behind curtains.
You see, Earth—our quaint little training ground—doesn't exactly hand out high-grade extraterrestrial metals like candy at a festival. Legally, it's restricted. Off-limits. But legality is such a curious thing, isn't it? It draws a line in the sand, then acts surprised when someone steps over it.
That's where Loken thrives. The man doesn't deal in materials—he deals in access. In sin wrapped in velvet.
When I arrived at his estate this time, I noticed something that made me smile… inwardly, of course.
There weren't any guards as if it wasn't a show of strength—it was an invitation. The kind that says, Let's not ruin this with bullets and bad decisions.
"I've prepared what you asked for," Loken said without even looking up. "I hope this will mend our strained ties."
Laid out before me were three sealed containers. Inside each, ten miniaturized corpses—eerily still, unnervingly perfect, preserved like collectibles. Alongside them, several spatial cubes gleamed faintly, packed with extraterrestrial metals so illegal that even their names were erased from public records.
Loken delivered… and in doing so, he reminded me why we still kept this dance going.
"Wally," I called.
A holographic window blinked into existence in front of Loken. He smiled faintly, watching as Wally absorbed the goods into his dimensional storage—neat, quiet, secure. Just as I preferred.
"Now then," I said, straightening my jacket, "I'll need a room for the day. I trust you understand."
"I've already made the arrangements, Dr. Moriaty," Loken replied smoothly, gesturing for me to follow.
He led me through a quiet corridor to a sealed chamber. The door hissed open to reveal a sterilized room stocked with surgical instruments, diagnostic scanners, and protective suits—everything one might need to perform something illegal, dangerous, or both.
Now, you may be wondering… Who exactly is Dr. Moriaty?
Allow me to elaborate.
Dr. Moriaty is the founder of Eden. A name whispered in the darker corners of society. He's also... me. A second skin. A necessary fiction.
Ray Allen—the golden boy, the prodigy, the future of the Allen Family—can't be seen consorting with criminals, let alone smuggling corpses and alien metals through backroom deals.
So, I birthed a ghost.
While I've never been fond of the title Doctor, Moriaty insisted. Said it lent credibility to our illusion. Made the myth stick. And sometimes, the lie needs to be louder than the truth.
"Now then… let's get to work," I murmured, donning the protective suit.
Loken sealed the door from the outside, leaving me alone with silence, steel… and the beginning of a new secret.