Go Get 'Em, Natalie

“Offer up what is beautiful in the world, and I shall bestow upon you a miracle.”

This was the Miracle of Light, a healing mystery relic.

Of course, it could heal a specific disease directly face-to-face; that was how most people had used it in the past, including the Milt family's previous treatments of cattle murrain.

In reality, however, the power of this mystery relic was exceptionally formidable—it could even conceptually cure a specific class of disease on a worldwide scale.

So long as the user could pay the price, which was to sacrifice what was beautiful in the world.

Some believed that the vast majority of people possessed beauty within them; as long as the sacrifices carried enough beauty to pay the price, the effect could be activated. Thus, across several eras, many rulers and people in power had sought this mystery relic to extend their lifespans.

Unfortunately, the act of sacrifice itself was not beautiful in the slightest. What such acts ultimately yielded was the mystery relic losing control: the Miracle of Light would transform into a Light of Calamity, constantly unleashing all manner of disease and death across the world, claiming hundreds of thousands—if not millions—of victims.

Its effect was far too enticing, yet the consequences were utterly terrifying. Eventually, at some point during the Fifth Age, this mystery relic was hidden in an unknown location by those who saw the danger, gradually forgotten by the world and vanishing into the long river of history.

Well, except for occasionally being brought out to cure cattle murrain.

The price for curing such lower creatures was far smaller, requiring very little beauty. Consequently, after every cattle murrain, strange occurrences would plague the town: many marriages would shatter, families would tear apart, and longtime friends would turn against each other.

That was all; it didn't even cost lives.

But this time was different. According to Skye, from the very beginning, they had felt a tremendous pulling force in the temporal interference, meaning the ripple effects of this incident were enormous.

A mere cattle murrain could never produce such immense interference; the only explanation was an ulterior motive behind the whole affair.

The Milt siblings thus surmised that someone was likely using this to lure them into retrieving the Miracle of Light so they could seize it and trigger some irreversible catastrophe.

That was why the Milt siblings had explained to the townsfolk that this was likely not a natural murrain, but a man-made disaster. However, blinded by the fear of losing everything, the townsfolk refused to believe it, dismissing it as an excuse to avoid helping and coming to resent the family.

A classic case of small kindnesses breeding gratitude, while larger ones bred entitlement and hate.

If things were indeed as the siblings surmised, they had to get to the bottom of the situation here. It might allow them to uncover the Shadow Alliance's objective, or at the very least earn the assistance of the Milt siblings.

With that, the two hurriedly bid farewell to Ms. Skye and rushed toward the town center as fast as they could.

Since their safety was temporarily assured, Lynch stopped holding back and recounted everything about Howard to Officer Natalie.

Hearing about the eerie blue mist—the hounds Skye had mentioned—the police officer was astonished. But what truly chilled her was the Shadow Alliance's pervasive, insidious methods. What on earth did those lunatics want? Had they set their sights on the Miracle of Light again?

“So, what do you plan to do?” The police officer toyed with the ornament on her sword hilt and asked with a frown, “Where should we start... Pfft.”

Lynch chuckled as well. In this moment, the two felt as though they had returned to the day he had just transmigrated, facing a completely baffling situation with no idea what to do.

It felt like yesterday once more.

Back then, relying on his wits, they had dredged up clues piece by piece and saved their lives. Having resolved such a perilous crisis back then, there was no reason to get stuck here now.

“What are you laughing at? Be serious.” Even though the corners of her own mouth were twitching with amusement, she still had the nerve to scold him. “I’m asking you a question.”

“Grasp the key issue.” Lynch clearly already had a plan in mind, speaking briskly without missing a beat. “What is the most pressing problem right now?”

“The cattle murrain? No, I mean, stopping the livestock from continuing to die?”

“Not quite. The cattle murrain isn't what's truly terrifying. What caused the riot earlier was the despair in people's hearts.”

“I don't follow. Elaborate.”

“The cattle murrain alone wouldn't drive them to brave gunfire and betray their conscience to storm the Milt residence. It was the fear of losing their ranches that robbed them of their future, plunging them into despair and driving them utterly mad. Therefore, the primary key issue is the land,” Lynch stated with conviction. “So what we need to do first is stabilize the land issue and loosen the noose around their necks. That way, even if we ultimately don't buy the dead cattle and they take the financial hit, as long as they still have their ranches, hope remains, and they won't lose their minds again.”

The police officer listened, glancing sideways at Lynch now and then. As she digested his words, she fell into thought and nodded. “But how do we solve the land issue?”

“I expect someone will jump out very soon.” Lynch smiled. “What I said earlier was also a provocation to the troublemaker behind this. It's bound to disrupt their plans. To salvage the situation, they'll definitely double down as quickly as possible. I bet that once we return to town, it won't be long before they step right into the open. Care to make a wager?”

“Who wants to bet with you?” Officer Natalie shot him a glare and abruptly picked up her pace.

By the time the two arrived at the town center, the sun was already sinking in the west.

It was four in the afternoon.

The only tavern in town was an old-fashioned establishment with a battered bar counter and twenty to thirty sets of darkened wooden tables and chairs. Under the dim, flickering light of gas lamps, a crowd of burly men sat around, playing cards or chess, gulping down ale, and making a racket.

But that was on ordinary days. Today, though packed to the brim, the atmosphere inside the tavern was heavy and stifling.

The moment Lynch and the police officer stepped through the door, a grating voice reached their ears.

“Absolutely not! A contract is a contract; an agreed-upon contract is ironclad law—not a single letter can be changed! If you have eyes, look at your own copies! It is written in black and white right there: should any event occur that is sufficient to jeopardize the recovery of my principal, I reserve the right to call in the loan or seize the collateral early. I didn't force you to sign; you came begging to borrow the money!”

The speaker was a man in formal wear wearing a monocle, sporting a small mustache, and possessing small, beady round eyes. He stood in the center of the tavern, confronting the leading farmers. Though short in stature, the mustachioed man possessed a booming voice as he aggressively waved a stack of stiff papers in his hand.

“Sir... Lord Trevor, I beg of you!” The farmwife who had been weeping over the corpse earlier had red, swollen eyes as she repeatedly bowed to the mustachioed man. “Mick just died. If you take away our ranch right now, the children and I won't survive. Please, have mercy on us and give us just a few more days!”

“And who's going to pity me if I can't recover my costs? So what if he just died? Does dropping dead give you the right to breach a contract? Let alone one Mick dying—even if ten Micks were laid out in a row, even if your entire family jumped off a cliff together, you'd still have to pay me back!”

“Sir... Mr. Trevor.” The farmer whom Lynch had slapped earlier showed none of the bluster he had when storming the Milt residence. Hunching his shoulders and rubbing his hands together, he squeezed out a fawning smile on his swollen face. “W-we aren't refusing to pay. We'll be able to raise the money soon. Just give us a few more days! We promise, just a few days, and as soon as we have the money, we'll pay you back immediately!”

“Bullshit!” The mustachioed man's eyes darted around, looking somewhat guilty. “I don't believe a word of it! What fool would buy such junk? Don't try to swindle me! And I don't care how you scrape up the cash—I'm notifying you right now: by tomorrow at the latest, you either pay up or I seize the land! Not one extra day!”

“He showed up even faster than expected. And that contract is truly repulsive,” Lynch whispered to Officer Natalie after listening at the doorway for a moment.

The police officer leaned into Lynch's ear. “That contract is riddled with loopholes. It's only good for scamming these country folk.”

“Huh? You understand contract law?”

Lynch froze, looking at Officer Natalie in surprise. Since when did this girl use her head instead of her sword?

“Heh, have you forgotten whose Soul Severer I am?” Officer Natalie smiled faintly and said nonchalantly, “Rules and contracts are the domain of the Lord of Order. If a Soul Severer of the Lord of Order didn't understand these things, I'd be woefully incompetent. So, Mr. Lynch Levive, I'm stepping up. How well-done would you like him cooked?”

Lynch clicked his tongue and whispered, “Extra crispy. Go get 'em, Natalie.”

“Talking about contracts? Splendid.” The tall police officer strode into the tavern on her long legs. Before she even got close, her imposing presence forced the mustachioed man back two steps. “You. Name.”

“W-Will Trevor. Wh-who are you?”

“Well then, Mr. Trevor, I regret to inform you that there are issues with your contract.” Officer Natalie gave a cold sneer and said calmly, “You stated that 'should any event occur that is sufficient to jeopardize the recovery of your principal,' you have the right to call in the loan early. How long counts as early? One minute is early; one day is early. Do you have any contractual basis for demanding repayment by tomorrow? If not, it is an invalid demand.”

“Th-this...”

“There's another issue,” the middle-aged version of Lynch said with a smile as he stepped forward to stand shoulder to shoulder with the officer. “The so-called event sufficient to jeopardize your principal hasn't even occurred.”

“How hasn't it?!” The mustachioed man panicked instantly, waving the contract around. “So many cattle have already died, and more are clearly going to die soon! How can you...”

“Did you specifically stipulate that situation in the contract?” Lynch countered. In this era, commerce was not yet fully mature, and if one wanted to play the rascal, there were plenty of loopholes to exploit. “If you didn't, on what grounds do you claim this meets the terms of the contract? I'd argue it doesn't.”

“You...”

“Of course, you are welcome to maintain your claim. That constitutes a dispute, which can only be escalated to the Hall of Justice for the court to arbitrate.” The police officer took over again, speaking with a cold, expressionless face. “Assuming no delays, the process from filing to trial takes roughly fifteen days. After all, the court of justice is busy—and getting busier by the day.”

“Why don't you head to the city and file the report right now?” Lynch chimed in with a polite, reserved smile. “That way, fifteen days from now, you might just be eligible to demand immediate repayment.”

“I... you... all of you... who on earth are you?!”

“The very fool you mentioned who would buy such junk. From city hall.”

“And what about her?”

“Her? My wi—my bodyguard.” Lynch waved his hand dismissively as if swatting away a fly. “All right, there's nothing here for you anymore. Step aside. You lot, take me to your ranches. I want to inspect the goods first.”