Colin's expression stiffened.
He had probably heard of Descenders abandoning one another, or perhaps he had witnessed it firsthand.
The snow wolf behind Herwin suddenly raised its head and growled toward the west.
Several witch hunters spun around immediately as the crunching sound of footsteps in the snow drifted over on the wind.
Herwin's face darkened. “It's a patrol.”
Colin immediately lowered his voice, urging, “Captain, grab her and let's retreat!”
“No time,” the older witch hunter said, looking down at the snow. “She has residual teleportation mana on her. They'll follow the trail right to us.”
Herwin looked at Isolde, intent to kill resurfacing in his eyes.
If she was going to expose them, the safest way was to silence her first.
Isolde understood.
She couldn't let them entertain that thought. At the very least, she couldn't let Herwin think that killing her was more profitable than keeping her alive.
“I can draw them away,” Isolde said.
“You think we'd believe you?”
Colin took half a step forward and lowered his voice, his crossbow bolt almost touching her chest.
“You don't have to,” Isolde said softly. “But if your brother is inside, killing me now will put the Grey Dove Monastery on immediate lockdown—”
Colin's face turned incredibly grim. He hissed, “Shut up! What do you know? You know nothing!”
Herwin suddenly looked back. “Colin, stand down.”
Colin's eyes were bloodshot, his chest heaving violently.
He wanted to argue, but under Herwin's crushing gaze, he could only grit his teeth and step back.
Isolde didn't look at him again.
This young witch hunter was already pushed to the brink. If she pushed him any further, he might actually lose control and loose a bolt.
She opened her palm, drawing out a fraction of the residual teleportation dust.
A faint white light gathered at her fingertips, which she then wrapped in a Purifying Light spell before slowly guiding it toward the snow on the other side.
The white light landed on the snow like a tiny spark, sliding slowly along a low trench in the snow and into the depths of the woods.
Cold sweat broke out on Isolde's forehead.
The holy glow clashed with the dark mana inside her body. Even through the disguise of Purifying Light, guiding it brought a piercing, agonizing pain.
The older witch hunter frowned. “She's using her own mana.”
Herwin's gaze fell upon her hand. The scorch mark was expanding, and tiny beads of blood were welling up at the edges of her skin.
Colin saw it too, looking slightly dazed. He opened his mouth, but ultimately said nothing.
The distant footsteps stopped.
Someone said, “The residue went that way.”
Another hesitated. “But there's the scent of a snow wolf here.”
“Just a northern wild dog. The Silver-Robed Lord said the focus tonight is on the intruders.”
The footsteps gradually drifted away. The light of a lantern flickered through the trees, failing to penetrate the shadow where they hid.
Isolde held out until the last wisp of the holy glow vanished before slowly lowering her hand.
Her fingertips were already numb. She quietly hid her injured hand back inside her sleeve.
Herwin watched her for a moment, then said, “You know how to draw away the tracking of a holy lantern?”
Isolde caught her breath. “If I didn't, I wouldn't have accepted this commission.”
She didn't explain too much, as this was knowledge remaining in the original owner's memories.
Duke Valen had collected a lot of information on Holy Court items during his lifetime. Perhaps that was why he had ordered the unicorn's body.
“You said earlier that your employer didn't show their face. How did they give you the commission if they didn't show themselves?” Herwin said coldly. “Very little of what comes out of your mouth is the truth.”
Isolde looked up at him. “Truth doesn't need to be abundant, just sufficient.”
Colin frowned and seemed about to speak again, but the older witch hunter pressed a hand onto his shoulder. In the next second, a brief, muffled scream echoed from the woods.
The expressions of all the witch hunters changed instantly.
Herwin whipped his head around. The sound had come from the direction she had just drawn the patrol toward.
Isolde looked over. The white light in that part of the forest had gone out.
Colin's face turned pale. “Captain...”
Herwin didn't answer. He squatted down, his eyes glowing with a faint light as he peered through the gaps in the trees. His expression instantly grew incredibly dark.
“It's the Black Tower.”
A deep, intense hatred welled up in Colin's eyes. He practically spat the words through his teeth.
“They're here too.”
Hearing the words “Black Tower,” Isolde's heart sank slightly.
Ur had mentioned that another group of people would be heading to the Grey Dove Monastery.
Northern Witch Hunters, Black Tower warlocks, and Descenders.
Now, the witch hunters had arrived, and the Black Tower had already made their move.
What about the players, then?
Herwin suddenly turned around, interrupting Isolde's thoughts. “You have two choices now.”
“First, I pin you here right now, and after everything is resolved, I take you back to the north to stand trial.”
“That sounds like it would take a long time.”
Colin snapped, “Do you think this is a social gathering?”
Isolde's expression remained calm. “So, what is my second choice?”
Angered by her indifferent attitude, Colin opened his mouth to curse, but Herwin raised a hand to silence him once more.
“Second, lead us closer to the Grey Dove Monastery. You know the Holy Court's protective wards and the corpse-transport path. If you try any tricks along the way, I'll cut off your hands first.”
Isolde nodded slightly. “Deal.”
He gestured, and the team of witch hunters quickly changed their formation.
Two went ahead, three brought up the rear, and the rest scattered into the snowy woods on both sides.
Isolde was positioned in the middle, looking as though she was being protected, but also as though she was being escorted under guard.
This position was not far from Herwin, nor was it far from Colin.
It made it convenient for her to overhear their conversations.
Following the route map Ur had given Isolde, they headed southeast.
The snow in the forest grew deeper and deeper, and the distant tolling of the bell became clearer.
With every strike, the Purifying Light disguise on the back of Isolde's hand vibrated slightly, as if something from afar was scrutinizing her.
Before they had walked far, the first corpse of a monk appeared on the snow.
He knelt before a black pine, his head hanging low. There were no tears in his holy robes, nor was there any blood on his face.
Only his shadow beneath his feet was half-missing, as if it had been cleanly sliced away with a knife.
Colin's breathing suddenly grew ragged. Herwin squatted down, checked the corpse's wrists, and peeled back the monk's eyelids.
The whites of his eyes had turned completely black.
The older witch hunter whispered, “He died only recently.”
Isolde's gaze fell next to the corpse.
There was a thin black mark on the snow, resembling the residual stroke of some spell.
She couldn't understand its full meaning, but she caught a trace of a similar image in the original owner's memories.
The people of the Black Tower were experts at manipulating shadows. In the original owner's memories, most of their shadow arts carried a highly aggressive, self-rebounding nature.
At first glance, it looked like a stray mark, but in reality, it could be a concealed hazard. Anyone who touched it would be dragged into the abyss.
She withdrew her gaze and looked into the distance. Herwin walked over to her side, his voice kept very low.
“See anything?”
“The Black Tower is a step ahead of us,” Isolde said, standing up. “They killed the patrol, but they didn't take the holy lantern.”
Colin immediately looked near the corpse's hand. A silver-handled holy lantern lay fallen in the snow, the holy crest on its cover still glowing with a faint white light.
The older witch hunter frowned. “The Black Tower belongs to Malice in the first place. There's no reason for them to take it.”
Isolde glanced at him and said calmly,
“Which means it's perfect for us to use.”
Rate on N.U.
