Chapter 336: The Unexplainable Song

It was Richard's turn to present his results.

"About those cursed objects Heracles gave me last time."

He took out the copper bell and the broken knife, placing both on the table.

"The copper bell is fully purified. I dismantled its original 'silencing' attribute."

He flicked the bell with a fingertip, and the clapper let out a crisp ring.

"It couldn't ring before because the target it was calling out to wasn't in the material realm."

"Now that it's stripped clean, it's just an ordinary copper bell. The material is decent; it will do well enough as a medium."

He pushed the broken knife forward.

"The broken knife is also clean. It was originally part of a ceremonial blade. Without the rest of the set, it isn't very useful on its own, but the blade's metal composition is excellent. Melting it down for reforging will yield quality material."

"Anyone interested can make an offer."

Heracles wasn't present. These two items were odds and ends he had brought back from the Ash Belt. After a round of purification in Richard's hands, they were perfectly clean.

Prometheus lingered on the broken knife.

"Can you be more specific about the knife's metal composition?"

"An iron base mixed with about ten percent ether-affinity alloy. It's roughly a recipe from the ancient craftsmanship of the Black Soil River basin."

Richard turned the flat of the blade toward Prometheus.

"If the person behind you is interested, taking it back to reforge wouldn't be a bad deal."

Prometheus picked up the broken knife, turning it over in his hand.

"...Alright." He fished a small vial from his coat and set it on the table. "I'll trade this for it."

The liquid inside the vial shared the same origin as the batch of stabilizers given to Ares, but its color was darker and its purity noticeably higher.

Richard pocketed the vial.

He had no personal use for it, but he could try giving it to his shadow.

"I've also finished dismantling the clay figurine," he added.

The others looked his way.

"It's a traditional labyrinth base pattern carrier from Crete."

Richard slowed his pace. The item carried some weight; he couldn't just rattle off its details like reading from a menu.

"Its completeness ranks in the top three among the Empire's current collections. I'm still deciphering it, so it isn't up for trade yet."

He wrapped up his point.

"If any of you have items of unknown origin in the future, you can still come to me for an appraisal. The fee will depend on the item."

With that finished, Richard turned to Demeter.

"Your Excellency Demeter."

"I've used up the pinch of Silent Fern I traded for last time. I'd like to get another batch."

"Hmm." Demeter rubbed her calloused hands on her knees. "What are you offering in exchange?"

Richard took out the items he had prepared in advance, one by one.

Fifty pounds in cash stuffed inside a brown envelope, a few useless empty-shell supernatural items wrapped individually in oil paper, and a small pouch of scattered Ether Condensate pressed at the very bottom.

He pushed the items toward the center of the table.

Demeter glanced down at them.

She picked up one of the empty-shell supernatural items, turned it over, and put it back.

She squeezed the Ether Condensate in her palm to weigh it, then put that back too.

She didn't even touch the cash.

"Hermes." She rested her hands back on her knees.

"I don't have any use for these."

Richard had anticipated this, so he wasn't terribly disappointed.

Demeter guarded an entire farm, its produce piling up in her storehouses. She was never short on cash or scraps.

"Just appraise an item for me," Demeter continued.

"What is it exactly?"

"I didn't bring it this time. It isn't very dangerous. I'll send it to you via a Spirit Realm Messenger when the time comes."

"Alright." Richard agreed immediately.

Appraising an item in exchange for Silent Fern cost him nothing. No matter how he looked at it, he was coming out ahead.

The appraisal process itself was excellent practice, allowing him to siphon some attribute points while handling the item.

Plus, every time he dismantled an item of unknown origin, his progress in [Speculation], [Learning], and [Perception] would inch forward.

The Silent Fern itself was also crucial to his practice of the Silence Spell.

He figured that with this batch, he could just about reach the level of casting it without a medium.

Demeter took out a small packet of spores and pushed it across.

"It's the same amount as last time."

"Thanks." Richard tucked the Silent Fern away.

Hecate's triple-layered voice drifted over.

"The trades end here. Information sharing begins."

Whenever it was time for the information segment, the atmosphere would always grow heavy.

During the trades, everyone could interject a few words, but the information shared usually sent a chill down the back of the neck.

Prometheus spoke first.

"That 'overly prosperous' inland colony on the New Continent finally has an update."

"Last month, the Admiralty sent a Hunter squad over to investigate. Twelve people."

"Three came back."

No one at the table made a sound.

"The three who returned couldn't clearly explain where the other nine went."

Prometheus pressed a finger lightly against the edge of the table.

"Their accounts contradicted each other.

One said they stayed in the colony for four days, another remembered it being two weeks, and the third claimed he only walked in once before someone escorted him right back out."

"Their timelines don't match up."

He lowered his voice a bit further.

"On the third day after returning, one of them used a razor blade to carve off his entire face in his hotel room."

"Before he did it..." Prometheus's flames practically stopped moving.

"He said one thing to the mirror in the room: 'This is not my face.'"

Richard recalled Prometheus's descriptions of that colony from previous gatherings.

People who had been there couldn't describe what the locals' faces looked like, or rather, they all looked exactly the same.

After returning, the investigator felt that his own face was fake—so fake he had to peel it off.

New text lit up on Nemesis's scale.

"After the wartime conscription in the northern Gaelic Highlands, the rural Hunter lineages were mostly wiped out. Yet, the weak points haven't quieted down in turn."

"A few of those unguarded weak points have started growing things."

A new line lit up.

"Plants."

Everyone at the table looked over.

"The grass and trees around the weak points are growing abnormally. Their growth rate is several times faster than normal, and the shapes of their leaves are changing."

"Over two months, one originally ordinary oak tree grew new branches no one had ever seen before..."

Richard waited for the rest.

"There are no acorns on the branches, only a type of black fruit."

The ears of wheat atop Demeter's head drooped heavily for a moment.

For someone who guarded fields, their greatest fear was crops growing things they shouldn't.

Dionysus spoke up as well.

"Over in the Imperial Capital, that phonograph business is still ongoing.

Last month, a lady played a wax cylinder at a salon for a séance. As usual, an extra woman's voice appeared on the cylinder, saying something different every time it played."

"But this time, the female voice didn't just speak. It sang."

Everyone at the table listened quietly.

"It sang a song no one had ever heard before.

Out of the seventeen people present, fourteen could sing that song perfectly from start to finish by the next day."

He picked up his cup, then set it down.

"But none of them remember what the lyrics actually mean.

They just keep singing. Singing while cooking, singing while combing their hair, even singing under the covers at night."

"Two went to see a doctor, who gave them sedatives. Another one hasn't been able to stop to this day."

Demeter was a bit puzzled.

"Their families haven't intervened? The husbands or fathers of these ladies should have some ties to the mysticism side, right?"

"You're right." Dionysus reached out and tapped the table.

"Among the seventeen ladies, at least half of their husbands or fathers have dealings with the mysticism side.

Committee members, Branch Office staff, people registered with the society—they're all in the mix."

"And they did intervene." He spread his hands.

"The husbands of three of the families contacted the Branch Office that very day. The next day, someone came to their doors to conduct an ether field scan."

"The scan results were... perfectly clean."

"The wax cylinder was played again, and there were no extra voices. The ether field in the living room was no different from any ordinary residence."

Nemesis's scale flashed, projecting a question mark.

"That's the most troubling part."

Dionysus let out a soft sigh.

"That thing picks its targets, and it picks its timing."

"I traced back through the dozen or so cases and found a commonality.

In every salon where an incident happened, the ladies whose husbands were Practitioners all happened to have their husbands out of the Imperial Capital."

"Some went to the front lines, some were drafted for fieldwork, and some were away on business trips.

Either way, on the night of the incident, all the men of the house were away."

"And as soon as the husband returns, or an investigator from the Branch Office knocks on the door, that thing recoils.

The wax cylinder remains completely quiet, leaving absolutely no trace in the living room, just as if nothing had ever happened."

"Once the investigator leaves and the husband goes out again, a few days later, it reappears at another family's salon."

"A different wax cylinder, a different group of ladies, but it still sings the exact same song."

The table fell silent for a good while.

A chill ran down Richard's back.

This entity was obviously conscious, and quite cunning.

"The Imperial Capital Branch Office is also having a hard time," Dionysus added.

"Every time they investigate, they find nothing. They can only write 'No abnormalities detected' in their reports.

After writing 'No abnormalities detected' three times, the higher-ups had no choice but to classify it as 'mass hysteria triggered by wartime anxiety'."

"But the ladies are still singing."

"Spreading from one salon to another, from Chelsea to Mayfair, and from Mayfair to Bloomsbury."

It was Richard's turn.

In his mind, he ran through what he could and couldn't share once more.

He could share a few things regarding the incident with the Angels of Mons.

"I'll share something related to Mons," he began.

The gazes of the others turned toward him.

"The weak point at Mons was stirred awake by the aura of death during the expeditionary force's retreat. Behind the veil, something formed to block the pursuers.

The soldiers called it angels, called it archers, called it St. George. The accounts are very mixed."

"This entity is suspected to have been collected by a Virtuoso."

Hecate looked at him. "Hermes's channels are quite impressive."

Richard didn't respond to that comment.

"That's all I can confirm." He wrapped up his piece.

"As for exactly who took it and what it's being used for, my channels don't reach that deep."

Hecate didn't press further. The outlines of a Torch and Key slowly solidified above her head.

"The fires of the Old Continent have already ignited."

Her triple-layered voice overlapped.

"The veil is thinning. You've heard this phrase many times already.

But after hearing tonight's round of intelligence, you should feel the weight of those words much more heavily."

"It isn't just thinning; it is also growing things into the mortal world."

"The oak trees in the Highlands are bearing black fruit, the phonographs in the Imperial Capital are pouring out a song no one understands, and the colony on the New Continent has replaced people's faces with the exact same one."

Hecate folded her hands on the table.

"Everyone sitting here has donned a mask, and your respective paths have widened considerably."

Her Golden Mask swept across the faces of the six people at the table, one by one.

"But wider does not mean safer. Those who walk fast are also targeted fast."

"Our next gathering will be in mid-December."

"Until then, take care of yourselves."

The triple-layered voice faded out.

"Close your eyes. Count to seven."

Richard closed his eyes.

One, two.

Archers, the unending song, the black fruits... receding layer by layer.

Three, four.

Divine Throne Frost Pods, Silent Fern spores.

Five, six.

Seven.

The sea of stars dispersed.

Richard opened his eyes, going over the information from tonight's gathering one item at a time in his mind.

The veil was thinning, and it was infiltrating the material realm at an accelerated pace.

The war itself was a massive catalyst.

The more people died, the denser the fear, the fatter the weak points, the thinner the veil, and the deeper the infiltration... which would lead to even more people dying, creating more fear, and even fatter weak points...

A wheel spinning faster and faster, one that no one could brake.

Richard closed the window and returned to his desk.

Starting tomorrow, he could continue practicing the Silence Spell.

The spell reversal that followed thorough mastery lay right ahead. He could already see it.