Invisible Arts

Simon didn't actually settle any accounts.

He sat back in his chair, bandages wrapped around his shoulder, and lit a cigarette. Alvin, meanwhile, packed up the ritual materials on the table.

After a moment, Simon suddenly spoke. “Speak now. What exactly did you do that night?”

Ryan leaned against the headboard. He remained silent for a few seconds before finally speaking up. “I went to the warehouse district.”

Simon's eyelid twitched. As expected. He knew it. “When?”

“After I finished the presentation at the girls' school.”

The room fell quiet.

Ryan continued, “I saw in the archives before that many of the missing people were connected to the warehouse district, so I went over to take a look. And then I saw ghouls.”

Alvin's movements froze instantly. Simon also looked up.

“Are you sure?”

“Sure,” Ryan nodded.

This time, even Simon fell silent. The room suddenly became suffocatingly quiet.

Ryan briefly explained what he had seen that day, from the warehouse to the ghouls, to his escape, and then being targeted afterward. He didn't hide anything.

After he finished, only the sound of the burning gas lamp remained in the room.

After a long time, Alvin slowly stood up. “Have you told anyone else?”

“I only told Jonathan about the situation.”

Simon finally understood. “You brought the police over?”

“Yeah,” Ryan nodded. “I didn't say I saw ghouls. I only said someone was eating corpses and killing people.”

Alvin stood in place. He suddenly narrowed his eyes. “Did Jonathan go there later?”

“He did. He brought quite a few people,” Ryan recalled. “And even blockaded several warehouses.”

The room suddenly fell quiet.

Simon finally pieced the whole thing together: East Port, the missing people, the warehouses, the police search, and then the Edge-man's retaliation.

From a cultist's perspective, the matter was actually very simple. Someone was originally hiding in the warehouse to do something. But someone noticed something was wrong and drew the police over. Although Jonathan might not have actually found anything, the other party must have been affected, even forced to move their base. And Ryan happened to be the one who provided the clue. Thus, the subsequent hunt ensued.

Thinking of this, Simon took a deep drag of his cigarette. He didn't speak for a long time. Only at last did he curse, “You really know how to cause trouble.”

Ryan felt a bit embarrassed. “I didn't know at the time.”

“No shit,” Simon rolled his eyes.

Beside them, Alvin remained silent. His attention was focused on another matter.

Police, warehouses, blockades, missing people. If it was truly as Ryan said, then the other party's retaliation was simply too fast. Almost immediately after the police action, the Edge-man came knocking. This proved one thing: the other party had been watching.

Thinking of this, Alvin's expression finally turned serious. “This matter must be reported to the director.”

Simon looked up. “Because of the police?”

“No,” Alvin shook his head. “Because their reaction was too fast. This doesn't look like roaming cultists. It's more like someone has been staying in East Port for a long time.”

The room fell quiet.

Alvin had already put on his coat, slipping the silver florin into his pocket as he did so. “Jonathan investigates the warehouses. Ryan gets retaliated against. East Port starts to strike. The missing population is still increasing. These things should already be connected.”

Alvin was adjusting his coat, preparing to depart.

Leaning against the headboard, Ryan suddenly spoke up. “There's something I've been wanting to ask.”

Simon raised his eyelids. “Speak.”

“What exactly is our archive?”

The room fell quiet. Hearing this, Alvin glanced back.

Ryan continued, “Ordinary archives wouldn't have aspects. They wouldn't have rituals. They wouldn't have lore. So what exactly are we?”

Simon took a puff of smoke and suddenly chuckled. “You didn't think you had joined some secret organization, did you?”

Ryan was taken aback.

Simon shook his head. “You're overthinking it. An archive is just an archive. The Imperial Archive. We collect salaries, we write reports, we organize documents, and at the end of the month, we still get paid.”

Ryan frowned. “Then where did our lore come from?”

“That's another matter.” It was Alvin who spoke this time. He leaned against the door, his voice very calm. “People in the archive have easier access to these things. That's all.”

Ryan didn't quite understand.

Alvin continued, “Every day we deal with missing people, death records, case files, old archives, ancient maps, church-sealed documents, and Port Authority accident reports. Over time, someone is bound to see things they shouldn't see.”

Ryan fell silent. The archive naturally came into contact with a large amount of hidden information, making it much easier for them to encounter extraordinary events than ordinary people.

Alvin continued, “The true Great Arts are not something people like us can learn. What we learn are unorthodox methods called the Invisible Arts—an extraordinary power patched together from scraps and fragments. No systematic knowledge. In essence, we are no different from cultists. The Disciple rank is basically our ceiling.”

The room fell quiet. Ryan knew that knowledge itself was power. Without knowledge, one wasn't even qualified for Ascension.

Alvin continued, “Most extraordinary beings are nobles. Do you know why?”

Ryan shook his head. “Because they are rich?”

“Because their ancestors were also Scholars,” Alvin corrected. “Many heritages are originally family heritages, passed down from generation to generation, for hundreds of years, or even longer. They are in contact with these things from the moment they are born. While ordinary people might go their entire lives without even knowing the Great Arts exist.”

Simon tapped his cigarette ash. “So don't think too highly of yourself. The three of us put together can't even scrape together half a complete Lore.”

Ryan suddenly thought of Jonathan. “What about Jonathan? Is the police and Suppression Bureau system like this too?”

Alvin smiled. “That's different. Jonathan belongs to another system.”

Ryan looked up.

Alvin explained, “The Imperial Police system, the church system, and the military system—these places all have their own extraordinary channels. They are not the same as us. They are more formal and strict, but they don't have as much freedom.”

Ryan was thoughtful. “So Jonathan is also a Disciple?”

“Just about. Their term for it is Apprentice,” Alvin nodded. “He belongs to the group cultivated by the Empire. He learned a different set of things: investigation, interrogation, tracking, and identifying anomalies. He's closer to a tool than someone who pursues Principles.”

Simon suddenly chuckled. “To put it bluntly, he gets paid to catch cultists, and we get paid to organize documents. Not much of a difference.”

Alvin nodded. “Just about. The truly powerful people won't be police officers in the East End, nor will they be earning a monthly salary in an archive.”

Having said this, he adjusted his coat and pushed open the door. Before leaving, he added one more thing, “If you ever meet a true Scholar, you'll know what a real gap is.”

“Wait.”

Alvin looked back. “Something else?”

Ryan pushed up his new glasses. He remained silent for a moment. “I still have a question.”

“Ask.”

Ryan organized his thoughts. “People like us... if we want to keep going up, is our only choice to rely on the Wood?”

This time, the room suddenly fell silent. Simon looked up, and Alvin also looked at Ryan.

A few seconds later, Alvin smiled. “It seems you've already been in there quite a few times.”

Ryan did not deny it. Recently, the number of times he entered the Wood had indeed been increasing.

Alvin pulled out his chair and sat back down. “Just about. For most people, the Wood is the only opportunity.”

Simon exhaled a cloud of smoke. “And the only place where you can come into contact with true knowledge.”

Ryan frowned. “True knowledge?”

“Yes,” Alvin nodded.

Alvin said calmly, “The true Scholar families, ancient academies, cults, noble archives—what they possess is not from the same world as us. Much of the knowledge isn't even written down; it is only passed down by word of mouth.”

Ryan nodded slightly. This indeed fit the cultist world in his understanding. Knowledge itself was power, and power naturally wouldn't be circulated casually.

Alvin continued, “So what do ordinary people do? They dream. They enter the Wood, searching for traces, for relics, and for things left behind by those who have long since died.”

Simon suddenly smiled. “If you're lucky, you might even inherit what a dead man left behind. If you're unlucky, you'll turn into a madman first.”

Ryan, however, did not laugh.

Alvin continued, “But there is one thing you had better remember. Don't trust your preconceived notions too much.”

Ryan looked up. “What do you mean?”

Alvin looked at him. “Do you think that the Lantern has the Lantern's path, the Moth has the Moth's path, and each path exists in a fixed way?”

Ryan was silent.

Alvin, however, shook his head. “No one can prove it.”

The room fell quiet. The gas lamp swayed gently.

Alvin continued, “I've seen a Forge Disciple dream of a vast, boundless ocean, and I've also seen a Winter-aspected person walk into a vibrant forest. Some say there is only one Wood, some say the Wood everyone sees is different, and some insist they have never seen the Wood, yet still became extraordinary.”

Simon added, “Only to find out later that he went mad.”

Alvin nodded. “Yes. So that's where the biggest trouble with the extraordinary lies. No one knows what is real and what is false. Even the records left behind by those ancient Scholars contradict one another.”

Alvin stood up and picked up his coat. Before stepping out, he suddenly turned back and said, “But there is one thing that is universally agreed upon.”

“What?”

“No matter which school, no matter which theory, no matter which path—everyone will eventually go deep into the Wood. The only difference is that some return, while others do not.”

With that, Alvin pushed open the door and left, the door closing behind him.

Simon leaned back in his chair again, smoke slowly rising.

Just as he sat down, a glance from the corner of his eye caught the cane in the corner. He hurriedly opened the door and gave chase, but unfortunately, Alvin's figure had long since vanished.

“Fuck you, Alvin!”