Magical Soul Parade

Chapter 220: Prowlers On The Loose (IV)

Jon said nothing.

Finn sighed and shrugged. Then, as casually as if he were commenting on the weather, he deadpanned:

“Yes. I killed him.”

Then he resumed walking again. But Jon didn’t follow.

He stood rooted to the spot, shock written plainly across his face. Suspecting was one thing. Having it confirmed was something else entirely.

Finn stopped after a few steps. “Why are you just standing there?”

Jon looked at him with different eyes now. Wary. Uncertain. Like he was seeing Finn properly for the first time and realizing he’d invited something dangerous into his life.

“Why?” Jon’s voice came out hoarse. “Why did you do it?”

Finn’s answer was simple. Direct. “He came to kill me. So I killed him first.”

He paused, then continued. “After I killed him, I found a book in his inner pocket. A record of his victims. ’Trophies.’ That’s when I realized what he was. So I decided to make it public. That’s why the body ended up where it did.”

Jon didn’t ask how Finn had managed to string a body up on a crane pole in broad daylight without being seen. He seemed more focused on the ease with which Finn discussed it. Like he was describing routine maintenance work rather than murder.

Jon opened his mouth to ask another question, but the sudden sound of clapping cut him off.

Someone stepped out of the shadows beside the path, and a shiver of pure fear shot up Jon’s spine. Even Finn raised an eyebrow.

The figure moved fully into the moonlight, revealing black robes that marked him as another Named Priest. Different from Shadow Tongued at the gate. This one was older, with gray strands in his beard and cold calculation in his eyes.

He chuckled, staring at Finn. “How nice that you confessed yourself. You just saved me a lot of time prying the information from your mouths.”

Finn smiled faintly in return, shrugging. “Nah… It wouldn’t have gone that far. I would’ve told you if you’d simply asked.”

The priest’s expression flickered with something — surprise, maybe, or irritation at Finn’s casual tone. But he shook his head. “I’ve seen many like you, boy. That false bravado will disappear soon enough.”

He turned his attention to Jon. “Move aside. I understand your position. You’ll come out of this with only a light reprimand. The one I want is your colleague here.”

Finn looked at Jon, still silent and calm.

Jon’s face was torn with conflict. His feet shifted like he might actually step aside.

Then his expression went blank and he turned.

But not away.

He faced forward squarely, planting himself beside Finn. Not moving.

“Foolish.” The priest’s face darkened.

Without hesitation, he pulled out a small vial from within his robes. He uncorked it and spread the contents with a wave of his hand.

Black dust dispersed into the air.

But this wasn’t normal dust. It defied common sense, billowing and spreading like smoke, expanding far beyond what should have been possible from such a small container. It covered the priest’s figure entirely, then began creeping toward Finn and Jon like a living thing.

Jon’s face had gone pale with fear. He’d never seen anything like this in his life. Magic. Real magic. People like him had only ever heard tales of magic before but never experienced it in real life. Some didn’t even think it existed.

But here it was, right in front of him. His instinct screamed at him to run. And he even took an involuntary step backwards already…

But his eyes caught Finn’s figure, still standing there casually, hands in his pockets.

Somehow, Finn’s complete lack of surprise, the absence of fear on his face, gave Jon a thread of hope. Maybe things were under control. Maybe he knew what he was doing.

Jon grit his teeth and stood his ground despite his trembling knees at the black smoke drawing closer. The priest’s voice emerged from within screaming out like a wraith.

“Surrender your head, heretic!”

The smoke reached Finn. A blade materialized from within it, stretching toward Finn’s neck. Mere inches away from severing his head from his shoulders.

But out of nowhere, the priest was abruptly flung backward.

The smoke dispersed immediately as if it had never existed. The priest’s body tumbled through the dirt, rolling several times before coming to a stop.

Jon was gobsmacked, wondering what exactly had happened.

His eyes went to Finn, who raised a hand and rubbed his neck, grinning as he muttered under his breath:

“Sheesh… For a second there, I wondered if ’that guy’ would keep his word.”

Finn stepped forward, heading towards the Priest’s nearly folded body on the ground.

The old man was stunned, staring at the moon above with a confused look on his face. He cut a sorry figure with his legs practically touching his shoulders.

The man immediately scrambled to right himself as he heard footsteps incoming.

“Whoa! Calm down old man. I just wanna ask a few questions.” Finn chuckled.

“You heretic! What Master do you serve?!” The priest barked, frazzled at what had just happened.

His words made Finn smile even wider, but he held himself back from giving the retort he desperately wanted to. Instead he took a deep breath and raised both hands up harmlessly.

“Look, old man. I don’t mean any harm. I just wanna talk.”

The priest snarled and pulled out another vial, uncorking it quickly and blowing the dust it contained.

Finn sighed as the contents floated towards him in the wind, only to stop mere inches away like there was some sort of force field surrounding him.

“Lord of Shadows…” the priest involuntarily swore and his eyes widened in shock. “Just who exactly are you?” He frowned deeper then made to pull out something else from his robes, but Finn’s words made him still.

“Nothing you try will work. As long as it is something borne of the power of the God of Shadows, it will never reach me.”

The priest stared at Finn dubiously, but Finn’s sincere expression made him stay his hand. Still, he couldn’t outrightly believe a statement as bold as that.

“The power of my God will have no effect on you, you say?” He snorted. “Why don’t you come to the temple of Shadows and we’ll test the veracity of your words.”

“I mean, if that’s what you want. But at least let me speak first.” Finn shrugged, dropping his hands now that the old man seemed to have calmed.

“My name is Arros,” Finn introduced himself as the priest watched blankly.

“Tsk. Well I guess you haven’t been informed then,” he hissed after noting the priest’s lack of response to his name. “That means I’ll have to speak to someone higher up.”

The priest’s face instantly went cold and he turned hostile. “I knew you were just a poser—”

“Shadow Cloud.” A voice suddenly cut through the air, causing the priest to still immediately.

“P—Paladin Ohms!” The priest — or rather, Shadow Cloud, bowed respectfully at the figure that had appeared out of nowhere.

It was a tall, broad man donned in obsidian black armor. He strode towards Finn with purposeful steps, coming to a stop right in front of him.

Looking down at Finn’s shorter figure, he asked placidly:

“You say you’re Arros?”