Checkmate

A bad premonition welled up in Lynch's chest. Releasing his grip on the revolver, he gripped his cane and strode into the farmhouse.

It was an ordinary farmhouse, slightly cluttered, yet filled with the warm essence of everyday life.

Officer Natalie stood in the center of the foyer, looking toward the kitchen off to the side. Lynch hurried over and followed her gaze, only to see the petite silhouettes of three small children huddled together against the kitchen window.

There were no bodies, only shadows plastered against the glass—just like the silhouettes left behind on walls after human bodies were incinerated.

Yet the shadows were moving, shivering as they pressed against each other. Perhaps sensing Lynch and Officer Natalie's arrival, one of the shadows even reached out a small, blackened hand toward them.

Then it froze against the window, never to move again.

Hiss...

No matter how many times he witnessed such bizarre deaths, he could never get used to them. His heart pounded wildly against his ribs and his throat went dry, forcing him to look away.

Wait, no. A family of eight—where were the remaining five?

The female officer clearly realized this as well. Paying no more attention to the three black shadows that were gradually dissipating, she shot Lynch a glance, raised her sword, and charged deeper into the house. Lynch caught her meaning immediately, conjuring a sphere of light for Death Coil as he followed closely behind her.

The temperature inside rose noticeably, causing both their hearts to sink.

Sure enough, the moment they burst into the master bedroom, a blast of scorching air assaulted them.

There was no fire in the room, only extreme heat.

Three petite shadows curled on the floor, leaving three pitch-black imprints on the floorboards. Meanwhile, two adults cowered in the corner with terror-stricken expressions, only to be instantly incinerated into ash by the searing heat right before their eyes, leaving their shadows permanently etched into the farmhouse.

They were still one step too late.

Witnessing these bizarre deaths, Lynch's face darkened, while Officer Natalie's expression turned utterly livid. In the blink of an eye, a family of eight had been wiped out entirely, yet they didn't even know how they had died, let alone who the culprit was.

Standing shoulder to shoulder, they gazed at the gruesome scene in silence. Only after a long pause did Officer Natalie say in a low voice, “At least I didn't see any heteromorphs.”

“Then the possibility of a cultist sacrifice is very high,” Lynch said with a grim expression. “I have every reason to suspect this was orchestrated by Will Trevor, but unfortunately, we lack evidence.”

“I've told you before, upholding order isn't the same as upholding the law. Sometimes I don't need evidence.”

“But we must consider the possibility that we might be mistaken. Then we'd be sinners who framed an innocent man.”

“You have a point. But putting aside the fact that we need to extract the root of this incident from him to solve it, even if we could find it ourselves, would you really be content watching him walk away unpunished just because we lack evidence?”

“Of course not, but we truly don't have any evidence. That's why we need to manufacture some as quickly as possible.”

“Huh?”

What was she so surprised about? A living person couldn't let themselves be stumped by rigid rules.

It was just a matter of baiting the hook. He wasn't a police officer anyway; he didn't need to abide by their regulations.

However, before he could even begin setting his trap, the town officials waiting outside called out to them the moment they stepped through the doorway.

The cattle here had all died as well.

The two rushed over to take a look. Indeed, just like at Mick's and old Witt's places, the carcasses were shriveled down to mere skin and bone, completely unlike the ordinary cattle corpses found at the other two households.

Strange. Those two households had their cattle die first before shriveling up, while the other two had dead cattle that hadn't had time to desiccate yet. But this household's cattle look as though they were drained dry on the spot. Could there be some other factor we haven't taken into account?

Thud, thud, thud.

The sound of approaching footsteps grew louder in the darkness, and a townsman ran over, gasping for breath.

After checking on their dead cattle, Mick Malin's wife and children had stayed inside their home without leaving again. Just now, some family friends had gone over to console them, only to find that they adamantly refused to open the door. After a brief standoff, the house suddenly caught fire, and the flames still hadn't been put out.

In the blink of an eye, there were already nearly twenty victims. This was the first time Lynch had encountered such a bloody occult incident. Things he couldn't figure out could be pondered later, but if they didn't quickly find a way to halt Will's madness, no one would be left alive in this town soon.

They had to find a way to force him to reveal his methods first, then neutralize the threat.

Time to start manufacturing evidence.

Clang, clang, clang.

Soon, the heavy tolling of a bell rang out from the clock tower at the center of town, setting all of Wilson Town into motion.

Upon hearing the bell, townsfolk put down whatever they were doing and gathered toward the town center carrying torches.

This was the signal used in Wilson Town to summon residents for an assembly. It was only ever rung to announce major news, and every household would send at least one or two representatives to attend in the square.

The blood beneath the clock tower had already been washed away, but the news of three consecutive families being wiped out struck harder than any pool of blood. In an instant, the various bizarre occurrences of recent days connected together in people's minds.

Could this truly not be cattle murrain, but man-made?

At that moment, someone finally remembered the response given by the Milt family. Could we have wrongly blamed them?

No, absolutely impossible.

The noise outside grew louder and more clamorous, while Lynch and the female officer stood inside the clock tower.

The ground floor of the clock tower was a large, crudely built chamber. The megalithic stone walls had practically no decoration, and the wooden floor had long since been trodden black. Right in the middle of the floor was a plate-sized red stain that looked strikingly vivid, standing out sharply against the blackened wood.

In one corner was a staircase leading to the roof. Led by the stout mayor, the two made their way all the way to the top floor.

Supposedly, representatives from every household had arrived; aside from the Milt family living outside town, all the households within town were present.

At a height of just over ten meters, the clock tower wasn't particularly tall. With Lynch's vision, the people below were clearly visible.

Lynch spotted Will Trevor, who had been driven away that afternoon, at a single glance. He was still wearing the same formal attire from earlier, mingling in the crowd and looking around with an air of complete composure, showing not the slightest hint of guilt upon hearing about the annihilation of three households.

That's fine. You'll be feeling guilty very soon.

Click.

Whoosh.

Several gas lamps atop the clock tower lit up simultaneously, illuminating Lynch Levive standing right at the front.

Straightening his bowtie, Mr. Detective picked up a crude makeshift tin megaphone, cleared his throat with a dry cough, and bellowed:

“Ladies and gentlemen! As you must have heard, I am an official from the Rhine City municipal government here to purchase your beef cattle. Although rumors of a plague have been circulating in your town lately, we invited an expert to conduct a thorough investigation, and the results are quite encouraging! Now, let us have our expert announce the findings.”

With that, Officer Natalie Angel—an expert of indeterminate qualification—took the tin horn with a dark expression. She glared fiercely at Lynch before speaking in a completely flat, monotonous voice: “Upon investigation, no plague was found in this locality. All deceased livestock are suspected to have perished from collective heatstroke due to excessively high temperatures. Although the surviving livestock are in subpar health, their meat remains safe for consumption. That is all.”

“You have all heard the expert's words! The expert invited by government departments is certainly trustworthy, and I can purchase your products with peace of mind. However, in the spirit of accountability to the municipal government, we have decided to observe for one more night. If no further cases of collective heatstroke occur by tomorrow, I shall represent Chairman Grant of the council to conduct on-the-spot transactions with everyone and settle in cash! As for the livestock that suffered heatstroke—we are an honest government and firmly refuse to buy or sell dead cattle, but we are still willing to provide relief subsidies at half the market price while taking the carcasses away for disposal on your behalf. I believe everyone should be quite satisfied with this outcome, yes?”

Silence hung over the square for a few seconds before erupting into thunderous cheers.

The gloom that had hung over them for days was swept away in an instant, and everyone shouted frantically, venting the excitement welling up inside their chests.

Not quite everyone, of course; there was always someone out of step.

In the crowd, someone nearly ripped off his own mustache.

Just when your painstaking scheme of more than a year is ripe for harvest, it's suddenly about to crash and burn. How are you going to turn the tables now, Mr. Trevor?

Checkmate.