Angelina said nothing, her eyes fixed on Xu Xiaoyou's.
After a long time, she chuckled softly and said, "For a moment there, I almost thought you were possessed by something foul."
Xu Xiaoyou remained noncommittal.
Angelina spoke leisurely, "The Siren King is not an urban eldritch creature as you know them. No one on this island except Chihong can handle such a fellow."
"She is the manifestation of the Siren Miracle, a projection of some entity from the 'Garden.' Perhaps she is a deity worshipped in some distant corner, or perhaps a specific object—who knows."
This was the first time Xu Xiaoyou had heard the concept of the "Garden." She quickly deduced that the "Garden" Angelina spoke of was the same thing people commonly understood as a mystery.
Angelina continued, "I don't have time to waste with you."
"Anya, please...." Xu Xiaoyou said softly.
"Begging me won't help." Angelina looked away, her expression impassive.
"Please, Anya." Xu Xiaoyou blinked, leaning closer to Angelina until she was gently resting against her arm.
Angelina was silent for a moment before finally clicking her tongue.
"Is there any benefit in this for me?"
"It can raise your status in my heart infinitely, if you absolutely must have a benefit." Xu Xiaoyou bit her lip, looking somewhat embarrassed. "Then, I can only..."
"Fine, stop talking." Angelina sighed softly, as if lamenting her own fate. "I'll decide based on the situation. If things go wrong, I promise I'll leave you behind and get out immediately."
Having received her answer, Xu Xiaoyou's expression shifted in a second. She calmly finished loading the last of the bullets into her rose rifle, her hundred-section whip trailing on the ground.
"Let's begin."
...
In the study of the manor's attic, a young man sat at a long table. The flickering candlelight cast a thin outline of his silhouette. Lancelot wrote the final word of the letter with an ink-dipped quill, let out a sigh of relief as if a heavy burden had been lifted, and leaned back into his chair.
Books and documents were scattered across the table—evidence of crimes committed by Belvedere that he had collected over the years. There were simply too many murders involving members of the Starry Gallery like Diesel. Victims ranged from the secretary of the Administrative Department and the vice-chairman of the Life Daybreak Education Committee to the director of the Transportation Bureau and public sentiment survey consultants.
He knew very well that Belvedere's massive hand loomed over the Star of Art's night sky. The Starry Gallery's Supreme Council had the power to re-elect the principal, but Belvedere had long since gained practical control over the entire Starry Gallery, the Student Council, and even the various institutions entrenched within other forces of the Star of Art. Even when his term ended, he only needed to support a puppet to take his place until the next election came around.
It was unrealistic to expect Belvedere to be convicted through these simple pieces of evidence. The association rarely intervened directly in a city's government. This wasn't just about the Star of Art; it would involve Universal Heavy Industries behind it.
Unless there was clear evidence that, under the will of a certain leader, the urban legend monitoring data had deviated significantly from expectations, posing a high risk of the birth of an apocalypse-class urban eldritch creature, the association would not use forceful military measures to suppress it.
He had noticed long ago that the frequency of urban legends being born in the Star of Art over the past six months far exceeded that of the past. However, the official reports from Life Daybreak, Universal Heavy Industries, and the Eye Association showed no abnormalities. Anyone could see the clues, but whenever he tried to bring this up to his teachers, he received extremely stern warnings. Thus, he could only investigate on his own.
Lancelot propped his head up with his hand and smiled with a hint of exhaustion.
Walking alone in the dark was a difficult feeling. One had to be wary of crises that could appear at any time and withstand pressure from all sides. Fortunately, he had always had a pillar of spiritual support.
Just then, the door opened. A girl with a high ponytail and wearing a student uniform walked in. "That monster is downstairs. We have to leave quickly."
Lancelot's gaze softened slightly. Whenever he wandered in loneliness or fell into a vortex of self-doubt, this girl was always behind him, silently encouraging and supporting him. Without her, he couldn't have made it this far alone.
"Yaqing, I've almost finished things here. Go protect everyone in the Student Council first. I'll come find you soon."
For some reason, as Lin Yaqing looked at the weary Lancelot, she felt a sense of loss, as if the youth would float up into the sky and never be found again if she let go of the balloon string. She opened her mouth, but a thousand words became just one sentence: "No, I'm staying here to wait for you."
Lancelot frowned. "Now is not the time for such temper tantrums. Gawain might still be watching us. If both of us disappear, it will make the academy suspicious."
"You have friends in the Student Council. You can't just stand by and watch them fall into crisis, can you? Think of Lida."
Lin Yaqing stood her ground stubbornly, unmoving. Seeing this, Lancelot stepped forward helplessly and hugged the girl. "With great power comes great responsibility. Yaqing, you're not the same girl who knew nothing anymore. You know how rocky the road we're walking is. Everyone has sacrificed a lot, whether it's the teachers or those ordinary yet extraordinary people."
"You are a grade 4 sword maiden now. Perhaps in the future, I won't even be able to see your back. You'll fly to a very, very high place. There are many travelers in life, and many landscapes worth remembering."
"Look forward, Yaqing."
"A brilliant future is waiting for you."
Lin Yaqing nodded gently. "I understand."
Before leaving, she couldn't help but glance back at the youth. "No matter what, you have to come find me quickly. I'm not letting you go."
After the girl walked away, Lancelot recalled many years ago, back when they were still with the family, the girl who would follow behind him and not say a word even when she tripped.
After all these years, that dirty-faced girl had grown so much that he could barely even see her back anymore. He had watched her personality gradually become bright and lively, her body developing, shedding her immaturity and greenness—only the innocence in her nature had never changed.
His thoughts returned as Lancelot packed up the important documents on the desk.
As early as two months ago, he had collected decisive evidence through various means.
This included, but was not limited to, Belvedere and members of the Eye Association collaborating to tamper with the psychic wave data monitored by Life Daybreak, the indicators of people's mental health, the equilibrium point between urban legend outbreak frequency and event rank, and the concealment of reports on some high-hazard urban legend incidents. There was even evidence of private communication with the Ascetic Sect to launch terrorist attacks.
Everything pointed to one thing: under Belvedere's dictatorial rule, the Star of Art was regressing and heading in the worst possible direction.
An apocalypse-class urban eldritch creature could descend upon the Star of Art at any time.
Lancelot shook his head and stood up, preparing to leave.
His endurance and solo path over the last half-year had all been for this moment. He would personally hand this evidence over to the members of Section 6, bypassing the local reporting agencies of the Star of Art and delivering it directly to the higher-ups of the association.
At that time, the association would know of the atrocities Belvedere had committed in the Star of Art these past years.
They would know what deep scars he had left on the people's spirits.
A soft knock came at the study door. Lancelot felt helpless, thinking that Lin Yaqing had only just left—why was she back again?
He opened the door, and a tall shadow loomed over him.
Lancelot gasped, "The self-annihilator? How...?"
A heavy meteor hammer crushed the youth's skull.
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