Simon did not stop Ryan in the end.
Or rather, the moment he saw the look in Ryan's eyes, he knew he couldn't stop him.
He had seen that look before.
Many years ago.
Those who had just stepped into the world of the extraordinary were always like this.
When a certain kind of knowledge began to take root in their minds,
and when a certain Principle began to truly affect their souls,
they would develop an almost obsessive urge.
Lantern wanted to know the answers.
Moth wanted to uncover secrets.
Winter wanted to draw close to death.
Grail wanted to pursue desire.
No one could stop them.
Simon took one last drag of his cigarette and flicked it into a nearby puddle.
The spark flickered once in the darkness before going out.
“Fine.”
He waved his hand.
“There's no saving someone who's bent on dying.”
“Go if you want.”
“I'm not going, anyway.”
“I still want to live a few more years.”
Ryan didn't say anything, only nodded.
Simon watched him, then suddenly added,
“If you aren't back in half an hour,”
“I'll pretend I never knew you.”
“And then I'll donate two pennies to the church.”
“Consider it buying you a grave.”
Ryan managed a rare smile.
Then he turned and left, quickly vanishing into the crowd.
Simon cursed as he watched his retreating back.
“Damn Lantern-aspected people, every last one of them is mad.”
Then, he threw himself back into the rescue efforts.
On the other side,
Ryan had already left the square.
The closer he got to the warehouse district, the fewer people there were.
Yet, the temperature in the air grew higher and higher.
The buildings on both sides of the street were dyed a dark red by the firelight.
Thick smoke rose continuously from ahead, as if a giant beast were breathing in the depths of the night.
The sea breeze swept ashes across the street.
The entirety of East Port was burning.
Strangely, however, as he drew closer to the warehouse district,
the light in Ryan's mind grew increasingly stable instead.
He followed an abandoned freight track forward.
He passed between two burned-out warehouses and climbed over a collapsed perimeter wall.
It was only then that the front suddenly grew quiet.
Even though chaos reigned everywhere outside,
this place felt as if it were isolated by something.
The sound of the burning flames grew faint,
and the clamor of the crowd vanished as well.
It was as if an invisible curtain had enveloped this area.
Ryan immediately slowed his pace.
Deep within his left eye,
the Lantern's glow began to slowly flow.
The world became much clearer.
And then,
he saw them.
It was a large warehouse that had not yet completely burned down.
The warehouse doors had collapsed, and the interior was a total mess.
Numerous crates were overturned on the ground,
wooden shelves were burning,
and billowing smoke rose toward the ceiling.
In the center of the warehouse,
three figures were standing.
No.
To be precise,
there were two “humans”
and one monster.
Ryan immediately hid behind a pile of collapsed wooden crates.
He held his breath and watched carefully.
The first to catch his eye was a man in a suit.
He looked to be in his forties, his hair meticulously combed.
He wore a black top hat,
a silver pocket watch chain,
and polished leather shoes.
Even standing in the middle of a burning fire, there was not a speck of dust on his clothes, looking as though he had just walked out of a high-society banquet.
He was completely out of place with his surroundings.
Yet, Ryan's body tensed instantly.
Dangerous.
Extremely dangerous.
There was an indescribable feeling about this man.
It was as if everything about him had been meticulously designed,
down to a calculated breathing rhythm.
Beside the suited man
stood a figure that made Ryan's pupils contract slightly.
A ghoul.
It was even taller than the one that had hunted him before.
Nearly three meters tall,
its pale skin was covered in rot-like markings.
Its limbs were long and thin,
its spine curved,
and its mouth split all the way to its ears,
exposing rows of tightly packed teeth to the air.
It crouched on the ground,
its crimson eyes staring fixedly ahead, as if ready to pounce at any second.
Yet, what surprised Ryan the most
was the third person.
He was an extremely ordinary-looking middle-aged man.
So ordinary that one would forget him in an instant.
A grey coat,
worn leather shoes,
and round-framed glasses.
He even held a book tucked under his arm.
Had he not appeared here,
Ryan might have assumed he was just a teacher from some school—
a university lecturer,
or a history teacher from a church academy.
He possessed none of the aura of an extraordinary being,
and exuded no sense of danger.
He just stood there quietly, as if preparing to give a lecture to his students.
However, the moment Ryan saw him,
the Lantern's glow in his left eye suddenly vibrated violently.
An unprecedented sensation of brightness flooded his mind,
as if he were looking at a lighthouse—
a lighthouse standing tall in the darkness.
The man carried no light on him,
yet he seemed to be made of light itself.
Ryan realized instantly.
Lantern.
And a Lantern aspect far exceeding his own.
A true Lantern Scholar.
Perhaps even higher than a Scholar.
Deep inside the warehouse, flames crawled steadily up the wooden shelves.
The burning firelight cast flickering shadows over the three figures.
Ryan hid behind the collapsed crates, completely motionless.
He even went out of his way to lighten his breathing,
because he knew
that any of the entities before him could easily kill him.
Especially that most ordinary-looking middle-aged teacher.
The professor stood in the firelight.
If he were dropped into a university classroom,
no one would doubt his identity.
Yet it was precisely such a person who made the atmosphere in the entire warehouse feel unbearably oppressive.
For true Lantern Scholars never relied on intimidation.
They relied on knowledge,
and knowledge itself was terrifying enough.
The man in the suit was the first to break the silence.
He clapped his hands lightly,
the applause echoing through the empty warehouse.
“I have long heard of your great name, Professor.”
“A seeker of the Great Arts.”
“One of the most stubborn old fossils of the School of Lantern Principles.”
The professor adjusted his glasses,
his expression calm.
“And you.”
“A believer of Knock.”
“The one who opens doors.”
“Was the business at East Port your doing?”
The man in the suit smiled.
His smile was incredibly polite,
carrying the elegance of a high-class gentleman.
“Professor,”
“asking questions like that is hardly proper.”
“A true scholar should not jump to conclusions.”
The professor did not speak,
only watching him.
The man in the suit continued,
“besides, with East Port ending up like this,”
“can we really be blamed?”
“Those workers were greedy.”
“Those officials were foolish.”
“Those nobles were indifferent.”
“Those priests were hypocritical.”
“We merely gave them a gentle nudge,”
“and they tumbled off the cliff all on their own.”
The professor shook his head.
“So you caused the deaths of hundreds of people.”
“All for a ritual.”
The man in the suit maintained his smile.
“Hundreds of people?”
“Professor,”
“you are still far too conservative.”
“A few hundred is hardly enough.”
“Every great discovery”
“is accompanied by sacrifice.”
“Shouldn't those of the Lantern be the ones who understand this best?”
The professor's gaze turned slightly cold.
The temperature inside the warehouse seemed to drop.
The fire still burned,
yet the air grew icy.
The man in the suit clearly sensed this,
and tactfully took half a step back.
“Now, don't be like that.”
“I am merely a researcher.”
“I didn't come here today to fight you, either.”
“In fact,”
“I have never liked fighting.”
The professor said flatly,
“Because you cannot defeat me.”
The man in the suit fell silent for a second.
Then, he actually nodded.
“Indeed.”
“I have always believed that knowing one's own limitations is a virtue.”
“The greatest advantage of Knock is—”
“knowing when to enter,”
“and knowing when to leave.”
At this point,
he suddenly turned his head to look beside him,
at the ghoul that had remained silent all this time.
“Don't you agree?”
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