Chapter 422: Someone Came Asking

When Richard arrived at the training room, he found that the checkout form posted outside the door had been updated.

The new version featured an extra line printed at the very bottom in a font so tiny he had to lean in to read it.

It read: "Equipment damage must be compensated at full price."

The clerk smiled, handing him the form and a dip pen.

"Last week, an undergraduate cracked a copper target."

"Can't it be fixed?" Richard asked.

"Of course not. It had to be completely replaced, and it cost four pounds, six shillings."

After Richard signed his name, the clerk casually crossed a slot off the schedule on the wall.

"Room 3 for two hours, right? Gas is a bit tight right now, so don't turn the lamps up too high."

Room 3 was located at the very end of the basement.

Once the iron door was bolted from the inside, all the noise from the corridor was completely swallowed by the inscriptions on the walls.

The shadow stood up in the center of the training room.

Richard flipped his notebook to that page and pushed the name out.

For a moment, Richard held his breath.

To his disappointment, the shadow didn't drop to the floor.

Deep down, Richard had been harboring a dark little expectation.

He had half hoped the mass of black would drop to all fours and grow ears and a tail.

Unfortunately, the shadow maintained its humanoid shape, arms hanging at its sides, standing perfectly straight.

Richard muttered, "This is fine, too..."

If it really had turned into a dog, it would be hard to explain whenever he brought it out.

The shadow was still standing, but its posture had changed. Its center of gravity shifted forward, and its faceless head lowered.

Richard had seen the stance of the collie at the Coleman Household. It looked just like the shadow did now—locked in a state of constant alertness.

The first difference was indeed related to its vigilance.

The original Sentinel spread the shadow's Perception out in all directions like a net.

Now, that Perception was condensed into a single line pointing straight ahead.

Its wide-area coverage was weakened, but its reach extended several times farther than Sentinel's net.

Tracing it, Richard discovered that the line passed right through the iron door and the corridor, stretching all the way to the corner of the staircase before stopping.

There was a bit of lime at that corner. Perhaps someone had walked past earlier with some stuck to the soles of their shoes, and the shadow had actually picked up the scent.

Another change: Shadow Guard would normally make the shadow actively move toward him in a protective stance.

Now, this protection was even tighter.

Richard took a few steps toward the east side of the training room. Without needing any summons, the shadow pressed tightly to his side.

Previously, when Richard tried to equip two names at the same time, his Spiritual Capacity had plummeted from 20 points down to 3, leaving his heart physically aching.

Two forces had also torn at the shadow's surface.

This time was completely different, and the consumption was even lower than equipping Shadow Guard alone.

Next came the tracking test.

Richard deliberately took out a small piece of low-concentration condensate.

He rubbed it between his fingertips until they were coated with a layer of Ether, then began walking aimlessly around the training room.

He purposefully rubbed his fingers against the equipment rack, the copper target, and two of the walls.

He waited a moment before releasing the shadow.

The shadow didn't even sniff his hand. It just started following the exact trajectory Richard had walked, tracking close to the ground.

Its path was identical to his own.

Even at the two spots where he had paused for about half a minute, the shadow stopped and waited for the exact same amount of time.

Finally, the shadow reached into the gap between the equipment rack and the wall, fishing out the piece of condensate Richard had hidden there beforehand.

Such tracking ability and precision made Richard's eyes light up.

But what surprised him the most was the final test.

He had previously tried using the Antler Token as a Spellcasting Medium to fire a Moon Nail. The resulting effect possessed extremely strong erosive and piercing properties.

He had recorded the data, and even he felt the effect was a bit wicked.

Now, Richard had given the shadow a new name.

If he added the Spellcasting Medium bonus of the Antler Token to that, what would it become?

Richard handed the Antler Token to the shadow.

When the shadow pinched two fingers together at the tip of the antler, the entire Ether field in the training room shifted.

During the Needle Piercing step, the condensed mass of Ether turned into something with a sharp point on one end and a curved hook on the other, somewhat resembling a tooth.

Even when Richard, its master, reflected his Mirror at it, that layer of Ether constantly repelled him.

Three meters away, the mixed coating of coarse salt and refined silver on the copper target began to frost over.

That target could withstand Ether impacts below the Minor Adept level without taking damage, but this time, frost was forming on it from three meters away.

Richard's palms started to sweat.

It suddenly occurred to him that if this needle was actually fired, the target definitely wouldn't be able to stop it.

Let alone the target—maybe even the inscribed wall behind it wouldn't be able to hold.

If the training room's inscribed wall broke, the compensation would be far more than four pounds and six shillings.

It might even lead to an accident report and an on-site inspection by the Equipment Department.

The Branch Office might even come to question him and invite him for tea.

And that cup of tea probably wouldn't have sugar, seeing as sugar was currently sold by the ounce.

In short, it would expose his hidden trump cards.

Richard hastily ordered the shadow to lower its hand.

The problem was that while the shadow held the condensed but unfired Moon Nail, the Antler Token wasn't idle either.

The hooked end was still continuously oozing Ether, exuding an extreme corrosiveness.

But this construct was formed to be fired; it was much like a blade needing to taste blood once drawn from its sheath.

Sweat beaded on Richard's forehead as he activated his Inner Awakening, pondering his options.

Perhaps he could just have the shadow sink directly back behind the veil.

But after a moment of thought, he vetoed the idea.

This construct was too aggressive. Throwing it back behind the veil might provoke something unknown.

He could also wait for it to disperse on its own.

But his time was limited; he couldn't afford to waste it waiting around here.

Suddenly, Richard's eyes brightened as he remembered the Silence Spell he hadn't used in a while.

He acted on the thought immediately. Without a medium, he cast a mass of vacuum straight at the Antler Token in the shadow's hand.

Very quickly, outside Ether was cut off, and the surrounding Ether field was thrown into constant disruption.

The corrosiveness was compressed inward. Within twenty seconds of cutting off the flow, the shadow's fingertips began to calm.

The Antler Token dropped to the floor, rolling a half-circle before bumping against Richard's shoe and stopping.

Richard picked it up and examined it closely. The antler was completely intact, and not a single thread of the reins wrapped around it had come loose.

Richard then conducted some more basic tests.

These included the thickness of the Stone Armor, the penetration depth of a normal Moon Nail, the interval between switching Spell Formulas, movement speed, and continuous output.

He found that these basic values were quite similar to those of the Practitioner Hunters he had looked up in the archives.

Richard tested a while longer and discovered a new limitation.

He tried having the shadow attack the copper target nailed firmly to the wall.

But while equipped with the name black dog, the shadow's strikes were extremely perfunctory; its strength was lacking, and its movements were half a beat too slow.

Yet when he tossed a small chunk of lime into the air, the shadow's hand moved so fast his eyes almost couldn't track it.

It only chased things that moved, showing zero interest in stationary targets.

Only if a thing tried to flee would it give chase and bite.

After writing down the data, Richard flipped his notebook back to the page he had written on earlier.

That name was written neatly at the very top: black dog.

A bizarre thought suddenly rose in Richard's mind.

Perhaps in the future, he could have the shadow disguise itself as a real black dog to frighten his opponents.

The more he thought about it, the more wicked the trick seemed.

If a black dog really appeared before him and followed him for a whole night...

He figured even he would be terrified out of his wits, completely unable to get anything done.

Testing complete, Richard packed all his miscellaneous items back into his bag.

The copper target was still securely nailed to the wall, completely undamaged, and the layer of white frost on its coating had already melted.

It seemed his four pounds, six shillings were safe.

Richard pulled open the iron door and was surprised to find Fischer standing outside, holding a stack of papers.

Seeing him emerge, Fischer's eyes lit up.

"Williams, I've been waiting for you for half an hour."

Richard frowned, glancing back at the room registration tag hanging behind him.

"I should still have twenty minutes left for Room 3."

Fischer held up the stack of papers in his hands.

"I'm certainly not here to fight you for the room. I finished writing the sheet music."

Richard was even more confused. "What sheet music?"

"The six lines from your little booklet."

Fischer was already unrolling the papers.

"I told you, you have a talent for poetry.

"Since you weren't willing to write the music yourself, I went ahead and did it for you."

Fischer cleared his throat and began to sing.

The more Richard listened to the tune, the weirder it sounded. It felt like it had been stolen straight from a church vespers service.

It was a bit too solemn, and paired with the lyric "milk is only left outside the door," the atmosphere in the entire corridor became incredibly eerie.

By the time he reached the fourth line, Fischer himself realized something was off, and his voice lowered.

"This feels a bit like singing for a funeral."

"I think so too."

"Then I'll change it to something cheerful."

Richard pulled the training room's iron door shut behind him.

"Never mind, just stick with this tune.

"Just make absolutely sure you don't sing it in the bathhouse.

"Last time someone sang 'Tipperary' in the bathhouse, they got reported and were called into the office for tea the very next day."

Fischer rolled up the papers, tucked them under his arm, and suddenly remembered something.

"Oh right, a few more upperclassmen from our department left today."

"Seconded again?"

"Yeah. This time even the teaching assistant for the periodization course went with them."

"Where to?"

Fischer shrugged.

"I don't know, but I heard they'll be taking a boat."

The next day, Richard went to copy books as usual.

He was on the third stack this time, entirely composed of old seal maintenance records submitted by various parishes.

The old professor was nestled in that chair as always.

"You're here. Let's begin, then."

While Richard was copying the fourth book, Mortimer suddenly spoke up.

"Last week, someone came to ask me about something."

Richard's pen didn't stop, but his ears perked up.

"Asked about what?"

"About your morning in Whitby."

The nib of the pen paused on the paper, letting a tiny blot of ink bleed out.

"Who asked?"

Mortimer picked up his tea and took a sip.

"Just someone of little importance. He said he heard from others that a black dog was sitting at the cave entrance that day.

"The black dog locked onto two people, yet only one died."

"And how did you answer?" Richard asked, feeling a bit tense.

"I naturally said that I'm old, don't remember anything, and know absolutely nothing."

Richard brought out a piece of blotting paper and dealt with the ink spot.

"Did he believe you?"

Mortimer set his cup back down on the armrest.

"Of course not, but there was nothing he could do about it."

For the rest of the afternoon, neither of them spoke another word.

When the streetlamps outside lit up, Richard packed his things to leave.

Just as he reached the door, Mortimer slowly added a comment.

"The Hunter circle isn't big. That sort of news spreads faster than the morning papers."

"I know. You warned me about that."

The old professor spoke matter-of-factly, as if reading off a menu.

"The black dog set its sights on Gerard Ashford, yet Gerard Ashford is still alive.

"Put those two facts together, and people are bound to wonder: on what grounds?"

Outside the window, the old plane trees had already grown their leaves.

As the wind blew past, the fluttering foliage cut the light hitting the windowpanes into scattered fragments.