But she had long since turned by Zaratul into a marionette, and then used by him for "Hell nah bro I'm outta here" technique, leaving her behind at Roselle's estate. By now, she should have been handed over to the authorities by the Roselle family.
So, her commissioning the Aurora Order must have happened before the banquet?
"This witch should be one of Intis' people. The fact that she deliberately sent the Aurora Order to retrieve the brass rod means that the item must have value to 'Intis.'
"But if that's the case, why would 'Intis' then make such a show of sending people to inspect 7 Rose Street at the gathering? Isn't that the same as shouting there's treasure here and drawing covetous eyes? Judging by that, the thing doesn't seem so important after all.
"Truth and falsehood, real and fake…it's not easy to pin down."
With that thought, Edward once again picked up the brass rod. He had seen it before in a dream divination. The only reason he had refrained from touching it all this time was to avoid playing into Intis' schemes. He had planned to investigate it after relocating.
But now, with Aurora Order lunatics already having "tanked the thunder," the trouble had been taken care of for him.
Edward rolled the brass rod lightly in his hand. "Let's see exactly what use this thing has."
He manifested a pen and parchment, writing swiftly:
"The purpose of the brass rod."
Closing his eyes, he slipped once more into dream divination.
In the hazy dreamscape, one hand handed over seven or eight bronze rods to another hand while speaking:
"Place them in the proper locations, and they can amplify spirituality."
Another voice answered, "I understand."
"I've already given you what you wanted in advance. Next, it's your turn to do something for me."
"Please, speak."
"Do everything you can to cooperate with that 'Son of Steam,' to see through Intis' coming reform."
The vision shattered with a crack. Edward opened his eyes.
Compared to his first dream, the second carried far more information—unsurprisingly, this brass rod was yet another product of the Twilight Hermit Order.
No shock there—after all, "Intis" was one of their members. The only question was, which of those two hands in the vision belonged to him?
"So its function is to 'amplify spirituality.' Not to increase spirituality, not to strengthen it, but to amplify.
"How exactly does one amplify spirituality? And what effect does amplification have? Furthermore, why hide an object that can amplify spirituality under a basement floorboard?"
Wait…in that second dream, there had been seven or eight rods. Could it be that the rest were also hidden beneath different spots throughout Trier?
Edward immediately divined again:
"The locations of the other rods."
But this time, he got nothing.
After Edward vanished, Akasha waited more than ten minutes without seeing him return. So she simply leaned against a tree and dozed off.
She had no idea how much time had passed when she suddenly felt something poking her face. Startled, she sprang up, her clawed fingers glowing with mysterious runes as she slashed at the air—
Only to hit nothing.
She spun in place, frowning at Edward. "What were you poking me with just now?"
"..."
Edward was speechless.
"My finger. What else?"
Akasha checked, then quickly asked, "So? What did you get from the spirit channelling?"
Edward replied, "That Shepherd was just doing a paid job. He had no idea who commissioned him."
Her face fell with disappointment. "So after all that, I still don't know who set me up?"
"You didn't get a good look at the one who ordered you to kill Count Clair?"
"There was a door between us! I'm not clairvoyant."
"...Fine. Time to send you back."
Before she could object, Edward gave her back a gentle push, and the two of them stepped into the inky depths of the spirit world.
———
At Count Clair's manor, chaos reigned.
As the family's pillar, the old Count's death almost certainly meant the collapse and dissolution of the entire network of vested interests that revolved around him.
Perhaps one of his sons would inherit the title of Count, but the Clair family would never again see its former glory and influence.
The Count's three sons immediately cast aside their father's death, falling over one another to carve up the spoils. Wells, who had originally stood at the centre of this storm, suddenly seemed "out of fashion," left alone in the room, ignored by everyone.
Yet he no longer seemed crazed or furious. Instead, he sat calmly on his bed, smiling faintly as he leafed through one of Roselle's published works.
After a long while, he turned his head toward the window, lips curling upward, and whispered placidly:
"All for the sake of the trend of the times."
———
Feynapotter City, capital of the Feynapotter Kingdom.
It was a city whose style was utterly different from both Trier and Backlund.
Yet when Edward stepped out of the spirit world, he felt the buildings around him looked vaguely familiar. After thinking for a moment, he realised—the architecture here was faintly similar to what he had seen in Moon City within the Forsaken Land of the Gods. No doubt this was due to the influence of vampiric aesthetics.
"Pfft."
Out of nowhere, Akasha suddenly burst into laughter.
Edward gave her a look of exasperation. "Weren't you reluctant to come back just now? Why are you suddenly so happy?"
"It's not that." She explained between chuckles, "I was just imagining—when Arlde returns in a few days and finds out I beat him here, his expression will be priceless."
"..."
Your sense of humour is really that cheap.
"Enough. You'll stay here for now. Once things calm down, remember to come back and continue working for me."
Akasha folded her arms, full chest thrusting forward as she huffed, "Hmph! This is my turf. Believe it or not, if I shout once, ten or so vampires will jump out immediately and pin you down before you can even teleport away."
"Is that so?"
The ancient gears in Edward's eyes began to turn. Akasha instantly felt a wave of weakness wash over her, followed by the sensation of something rooted deep in her bloodline vanishing into nothingness.
She clearly sensed herself drop from Sequence 6 to Sequence 7…then down again, until she was merely a Sequence 8 human!
"You…what did you do to me?"
Even Akasha panicked now.
"Just teasing."
Edward stepped back, his figure blurring into disappearance.
"Wait!" she shouted.
"You'll recover in half a day at most," his fading voice replied.
"No, what I meant was…didn't you promise to teach me how to make beautiful women approach me on their own? You still haven't told me yet!"
Edward fell silent.
…Was this woman truly brainless, or just completely carefree?
"It's simple. Open a high-end hot spring spa. Make sure your clients are noble ladies and young misses. Build the image that soaking there is a mark of status and fashion. Before long, there'll be an endless stream of beauties willingly stripping down to find you."
Akasha froze.
"That's it?"
"That's it."
She angrily rolled up her sleeves. "Did I really need you to tell me that? The moment I saw that so-called Son of Steam's invention—the public bathhouse in Trier—I already thought of it. And here I was expecting someone of your 'calibre' to give me unique insights. Turns out your level is just this mediocre."
"..."
Edward was struck speechless again. After a pause, he waved his hand and vanished. "Goodbye."
"Hey! Hey!" Akasha called after him, jogging a few steps before pouting.
"Can't believe after going in circles, I ended up right back here."
Her crimson eyes turned, and she muttered righteously, "That Klein Sparrow—what's he really planning? He can't just be digging around about the Ancestor Lilith's fate, right? But why would a demigod care about that?"
"Strange. Truly strange."
She lifted her gaze toward the crimson waning moon, murmuring, "Ancestor Lilith…If you truly have not perished, would you kindly grace us with your presence and inform Klein directly?"
"Drop out of the sky with a roar and scare him to death!"
"Or…maybe a little squeak would also be fine to me..."
As she whispered, a thin red bolt of lightning suddenly cracked down from the heavens, striking her squarely on the head. Akasha immediately spasmed, black smoke pouring from her mouth as her eyes rolled back.
"Squeak…squeak…"
———
Quartier de Noël, 2 Camellia Street.
Edward, disguised as the Shepherd, pushed open the door and entered very naturally. A servant immediately approached him and respectfully said, "Mr. F, you've returned."
"Hm."
Edward followed Shepherd Mr. F's usual habits: First, he walked to the basin in the living room to wash his hands, then strolled over and sat on the sofa, snapping his fingers.
The servant hurriedly presented a glass of red wine that had already been prepared.
"Did anyone come looking for me tonight?"
"No one, sir."
"Good."
Edward nodded, sipping the wine. "I've received orders from the Lord. For the foreseeable future, I'll be away most of the time. If anyone comes, place a pot of camellias at the second-floor window."
"As you command!"
"Alright. You may leave."
Once the servant withdrew, Edward lingered a little longer, savouring the wine, before heading into Mr. F's personal room.
His eyes fell on the fireplace—he knew it concealed the entrance to the underground chamber. And in that chamber stood a statue of the True Creator, where Aurora Order emissaries performed their prayers and sacrifices to receive His guidance.
Thus, even though he knew vast wealth and treasures lay below, he refrained from entering. It was far safer to avoid the risk of drawing the True Creator's attention.
The reason Edward bothered to impersonate Mr. F, despite knowing the witch who had commissioned him was dead, was twofold: first, to uncover the forces behind her; and second, to seize the Aurora Order's resources in Trier for himself.
He chuckled softly.
"Ah, thank you again, True Creator, for making things so convenient for me."
———
[Note]: Don't forget to VOTE. It keeps me motivated.