Chapter 185: The Underworld Chariot

Chapter 185: The Underworld Chariot

The damp, midnight fog of Ciradyl pressed against his face, a cold shock that barely managed to keep his consciousness tethered to the physical world.

He pulled out his pocket watch once more under the dim, flickering halo of a gas lamp.

1:36 AM.

’Less than thirty minutes before the veil thins at Lakeview.’ Mo Fei thought, his jaw tightening. ’If I miss the deadline, he might believe that I am careless; and if he believes that, he will definitely reconsider how I am going to help with his memories. Navigating it without the Angel’s protection will mean an instant loss of control in my current situation.’

The streets of the central Ciradyl were deathly quiet, swallowed entirely by a thick, yellow-tinted smog that smelled of sulfur and wet coal. At this hour, the respectable citizens of the city were locked safely in their beds, leaving the cobblestones to the rats, the night soil collectors, and the things that crawled out of the madness.

Finding a hackney carriage now was close to impossible. Moreover... at this hour, the Ciradyl was not safe either; local spirits could wander around. Local might not be able to see them, but for an Ascended, it was also a kind of danger.

He walked briskly, his fingers resting inside his coat pocket, lightly tracing the crisp paper of the envelope containing his four pounds. It was a meager sum for the risks he was taking, but in this world, survival was the only true currency.

As he crossed the intersection near the soot-stained spires of Saint Jude’s Church, his spiritual intuition suddenly throbbed as the air turned thick.

He froze in his steps. From behind him, a sudden grinding voice of a carriage came.

As he looked back, he found a cabman sitting in a carriage, a typical-looking man of the Victorian era.

The man nodded and said, "How can I help, sir?"

"Great! I was actually looking for a carriage. Would you take me to Lakeview Institute of Arts? Someone is waiting there."

"One shilling, sir. Sit down."

Without wasting a moment, he quickly sat in the carriage as the horse neighed before running through the empty roads. Finally, Mo Fei asked. "At this time, it’s nearly impossible to get a carriage. Why are you here? You’d not get travelers at this time much often either."

"Right, sir. I do overtime in the hope of getting customers like you... because there is almost zero competition, I sometimes earn a bit extra."

Mo Fei yawned once and settled up. "Why would you overwork? Won’t it be exhausting then?"

"Ah, definitely be, sir... but you see, I do not have options; even a few shillings are worth the night. I need to pay for my family too that lives in Aloman District; to live is always worth it." The man said in a low tone. He didn’t turn toward Mo Fei and simply moved through the silent street.

Mo Fei had already suspected something unusual, but at that moment, he was too exhausted to check with his Apprentice’s Eyes and wanted to deliberately sustain remaining energy for the City of Light.

Nearly twenty minutes later, the carriage stopped in front of the university building.

Mo Fei exhaled a long breath, a cloud of white vapor dissolving into the dark. He looked up. Ahead of him, looming through the grey shroud were the wrought-iron gates of the Lakeview Institute of Arts.

The campus was entirely dark, its gothic stone towers stretching into the starless sky. He jumped out of the carriage and gave the man a nod and spoke. "Here’s your payment. Also, could you wait for a while? We need to go to the City of Light; it’d also get you money."

The man lifted his fedora, then took the one shilling. "Yes, sir." For a moment, the word ’Sir’ sounded deep, filled with a resonating sound that grinded against the air.

He slipped through the side pedestrian gate, his movements silent and fluid as he navigated the gravel path toward the West Wing. The shadow of his long coat stretched behind him, merging with the darkness of the old willow trees.

1:56 AM.

It only took him three minutes as he reached the oak doors of the History Department. They yielded to his touch with a soft, counterclockwise click. The interior was freezing, the ambient amber light of the gas lamps completely dead now. The entire corridor was bathed in a pale, unnatural green luminescence that seemed to bleed directly out of the plaster walls.

He walked down the hallway, the sound of his own heartbeat echoing in his ears. He stopped before the door marked Faculty of History – Prof. A. Grieger.

Deep within his coat, the crimson stitches on his arm throbbed with a final warning. He ignored it, turned the iron handle, and stepped inside.

The room was exactly as he had left it, yet fundamentally altered. The sweet smell of cocoa was entirely gone, replaced by the crushing, suffocating odor of ancient desert sand, copper, and dry tomb earth.

Aiziq Grieger was standing by the mahogany desk. He had changed out of his brown suit. Now, he wore a loose, charcoal-grey linen robe that looked thousands of years old, its edges frayed and stained with what looked like dried gold dust. The thick white blindfold was still tied securely around his eyes, but beneath the cloth, two brilliant, burning golden points of light were clearly visible, casting long, sharp shadows across the manic sprawl of symbols on the wall.

In his right hand, the Angel of Death held a simple, silver pocket watch. As Mo Fei stepped into the room, the second hand hit the twelve.

2:00 AM.

Aiziq turned his blindfolded face toward him, a melodic smile appearing on his lips. "You are punctual, Mr. Sherlock Hermès." the Angel murmured, his voice rasping as he walked toward him. "The veil has parted. Let us see whose voice is calling you from the ruins of the Great King. Although I didn’t anticipate you’d be prudent of the time that you came at the right moment."

Aiziq raised his left hand and struck the air with a single, downward stroke.

CRACK.

The sound of iron wheels grinding against stone erupted with deafening force. The plaster walls of the office split open, revealing a vast, infinite abyss of swirling purple mist and floating skeletal feathers.

The temperature plummeted to coldness as a vast phantom golden chariot materialized from the darkness, its headless driver holding reins made of pure spiritual threads.

Mo Fei grabbed his top hat, his spirituality instantly locking onto the Angel’s golden aura as the cosmic pressure of the Descent slammed into his chest. "So tell me, Mr. Sherlock. Would you go with my chariot?"

He gulped slightly and took a step back. The grand chariot of the Angel of Death was in front of him, but knowing well that a wrong move there could be fatal disaster for his mortal body, he simply chuckled and shook his head politely. "Mr. Aiziq... I-I think it’d be a bit too open for us..."

"We can go through the underworld with secrecy." Aiziq replied calmly.

"Y-yes... I actually brought... uh, a carriage already; well, that would be inappropriate for that man, right?"

Aiziq chuckled softly and snapped his fingers. The chariot instantly disappeared into the underworld as he grabbed a scarf and walked toward him. "Lead the way then."

Mo Fei gave him a quick nod and opened the door for him. "Yes, Professor Aiziq."

They quietly exited the university and found the same man waiting outside.

The man’s expression turned horrified; his hand began to tremble uncontrollably. The fear took him out when he saw the angel in front of him.

For a brief moment, the mask slipped, showing the skull of a dead man. The spiritual residue around thickened.

Aiziq tilted his head slightly and hummed. "Hmm..." Of course... He already knew the truth of that man.