The Letter

Tick-tock, tick-tock...

The grandfather clock still made its mechanical ticking sound, as if nothing had ever changed.

The girl lay pale on the bed, her eyes hollow, staring blankly at the white canopy above, lost in unknown thoughts.

After an unknown amount of time, her pupils slowly refocused, and her clouded thoughts gradually cleared.

She propped herself up halfway and glanced listlessly to her left. Next to the long table, a bulging sack was still resting there.

At this point in time... she hadn't gone to the Crafters' Association yet...

She turned her head to look at the grandfather clock on her right, checking the time.

Four in the morning.

It should be before I found someone to decipher the Notes... she thought.

She had woken up two hours earlier than in the previous loop.

She still had time...

Crawling out of bed with some difficulty, her legs were still trembling slightly. Everything she had just experienced was still vivid in her mind.

Feeling somewhat exhausted, she walked over to the washstand. The silver basin was completely empty. Seeing this, she walked to the corner and bent down to pick up a water pitcher.

With a loud clatter, she lost her grip on the pitcher, and it rolled heavily onto the floor.

Expressionless, she bent down again, using her trembling fingers to grip the rim of the pitcher tightly, and lifted it once more.

This time, she was even more careful and focused. Fortunately, she didn't lose her grip again.

Clutching the water pitcher, she stood up, shuffled back to the basin, and slowly poured the cold water inside.

Once the ripples subsided, she reached in, cupped some water in her hands, and splashed it onto her face.

Then another splash, and another...

Only when the water dripping from her face had completely soaked her nightgown, leaving her neck freezing cold from the splashes, did she finally stop. She stared blankly into the now-empty basin.

After washing her face, she pulled up a chair and sat by the window, gazing out at the night sky.

Only a few lonely stars hung in the sky.

Perhaps because this starry sky was different from her previous life, with far fewer stars, it brought her a sense of familiarity and peace instead.

She kept gazing out like this until she had completely cast aside her fear, numbness, and pain.

After resting for half an hour, she finally gathered her emotions, her eyes gradually turning clear and focused.

Sitting down at the long table, she took a sheet of parchment and a quill from the drawer, writing as she pondered.

“The attacker will appear when I return from Lightless Street, and he possesses a certain degree of immortality...”

“He also carries a clay pot on him...”

As she wrote, she recalled the man suddenly becoming completely unscathed, the Notes of Destiny abruptly losing their effect, Ignis's bizarre behavior, and the final scene shattering as she returned to that street... Her body couldn't help but shudder.

But she quickly suppressed the trembling and continued writing:

“It is highly likely to be some kind of spiritual item, and its effect should be to trap me in some sort of illusion...”

“The moment I fell into the illusion... should have been when he released that black substance...”

“But what benefit does he get from doing this?”

“If he really wanted to kill me, wouldn't it be better to just do it directly? Also, who was that figure that appeared at the very end...?”

She paused for a moment, then set down her pen.

“I'd better ask the Notes.”

With these questions in mind, Celia picked up the copper mirror beside her, pulled the Notes of Destiny from the holy robe in her wardrobe, and slowly brought the two together.

A paragraph of text immediately appeared on the Notes:

“Cursed Copper Mirror. This is a spiritual item from the Blood Order. Its effect is that after shining it on a target for a certain period, it can cause a large amount of blood to seep from their heart, though not enough to be fatal. It is a tool used by the Blood Order to create blood thralls. Sacrificing it will grant you 40 spirituality points. Would you like to sacrifice it?”

The Cursed Copper Mirror... this must be the item she got from Vincent.

She had originally thought this copper mirror was something powerful, but it turned out to be just a convenient tool for creating blood thralls, only looking intimidating on the surface.

“Sacrifice,” Celia said without hesitation.

“Sacrifice successful. Your current spirituality points: 280.”

280 points... This meant the death rewind had consumed 80 points. Based on this projection, her next death might cost 110 points, leaving her with at most two more rewind opportunities.

Since she had plenty of spirituality points this time, she could ask about more things!

With this in mind, she asked:

“In the last loop, what was the real purpose of those two people?”

“5 spirituality points have been automatically consumed. Their ultimate purpose was to kill you.”

To... to kill me... Isn't that obvious?!

Celia's lips twitched as she said rather helplessly:

“Can you be a bit more specific? For instance, what was the purpose of that Hermit pathway man's previous behavior? It couldn't have been solely for the purpose of assassinating me, right?”

“5 spirituality points have been automatically consumed. The man's previous purpose was to make you feel fear.”

Ugh... the Notes were as unreliable as ever, but they did provide some useful information.

To make me feel fear... Connecting this to the nursery rhyme, the footsteps, and the man's eerie laughter at the end, Celia had a vague realization.

But why did he do that? Could it be related to that clay pot?

“Was making me feel fear intended to activate the clay pot in his hand?” To prevent the Notes from finding another loophole, Celia chose to rephrase her question.

“Yes.”

“Oh... so activating the clay pot would trap me in an illusion, right?” Celia pressed further.

“Yes.”

It seemed the enemy wanted to accumulate her fear to trigger the clay pot's ability, thereby trapping her in an illusion...

Then what was up with the figure that appeared at the very end?

According to what the Notes had mentioned, that figure's ultimate goal was to eliminate her. So why did the first man go to such lengths to trap her in an illusion? Could they not be on the same side?

Thinking of this, Celia suddenly asked:

“Are those two in a cooperative relationship?”

“Yes.”

If that was the case, wouldn't it have been better to just strike directly? Why did they have to do so many seemingly irrelevant things beforehand?

“Did that figure torture my mind through the illusion before killing me just to satisfy his twisted amusement?” Celia carefully phrased her next question.

“Unable to answer.”

“Then did he have other purposes for doing those things?”

“Yes.”

It seemed the other party wasn't doing it just to satisfy some sick amusement. What other purpose could they have?

As Celia was pondering, a line of eye-catching red text suddenly appeared on the Notes:

“Please note, your current spirituality points remaining: 230.”

“Huh? How can there only be 230 points left? Doesn't each question cost 5 points?”

“Excluding the question I just did not answer, your last two questions cost a total of 30 spirituality points.”

“30 points?” Celia frowned slightly.

How strange. Why did these questions consume more points than before?

With this confusion, she decided to test some other questions.

“What if I want to know the answer regarding that Hermit pathway man's immortality?”

“This will consume 100 of your spirituality points.”

“And that figure, what if I want to know his true purpose?”

“20 points.”

It seemed each question required a different amount of spirituality points. Just how did the Notes determine the cost of these questions?

In the end, Celia decided not to ask. She was worried the Notes would give her some ridiculous answer again, wasting her spirituality points for nothing.

She focused her mind back on the immediate issue at hand:

“If I want to kill that Hermit pathway person in Lightless Street, will the other collaborator arrive in time?”

“No.”

“15 spirituality points consumed. Your current remaining points: 215.”

“In that case...” Celia closed the Notes, a rough plan gradually forming in her mind. “If I trick Ignis, a Rank Three, into confronting that guy, she should be able to deal with him, right?”

Celia fell into deep thought, but soon, she had an idea.

She took another sheet of parchment from the drawer and began writing.

After a long while, as she penned the final word, she looked at the provocative words she had written and finally nodded in satisfaction.

This should do it... she thought.

Next, she used her Dominion ability to control a carrier pigeon, rolled up the parchment, and tied it to the pigeon's leg, preparing to have it deliver the letter at the right moment.

I just hope Ignis won't hold a grudge against me. After all, this is all for self-preservation... Celia sighed in her heart.

...

The time came to 7:10 AM, the exact moment Celia would have finished buying her hand crossbow and sigils, preparing to return from Lightless Street.

Inside a quiet room somewhere in the monastery, Ignis was leaning against the window, looking down at an ancient tome.

Just then, a tapping sound suddenly rang out, disrupting her thoughts.

Ignis turned her head in confusion. Outside the window, a grayish-white pigeon was tapping its beak against the glass, a roll of parchment tied to its leg.

Ignis's gaze lingered on the pigeon for a moment.

Ignis pushed open the window, took the parchment from the pigeon's leg, spread it out in her palm, and read it carefully.

【My, my, if it isn't our great Witch of Ice? Hiding away in the Northern Territory for so many years, and now you've finally deigned to come out? How truly worthy of celebration.】

【Yet, after finally coming out as an envoy, you still hide in the church's monastery like a turtle retracting its head, day after day dreaming of protecting everything. How laughable and pathetic...】

【Oh, by the way, here's some good news. Our people have already cornered the Saintess of the Church of Life in Lightless Street. Right now, we are torturing her bit by bit—yes, trampling, humiliating, and tormenting her. Heh, when you see that scene, your expression will surely be priceless. Remember, if you don't show up within ten minutes, we won't show any mercy!】

【Hehe, I bet you won't dare to come. After all, isn't your greatest trait in life your cowardice? How much of your current position did you actually earn through your own efforts? If you truly had any ability, why would the Witch of Flame have betrayed you and ultimately left you, hahahaha!】

After reading the letter, Ignis folded the parchment bit by bit and slipped it into her dress pocket.

Throughout the entire process, not a single expression appeared on her face.

Yet for some reason, the surrounding temperature suddenly plummeted, and a thick layer of frost quickly coated the nearby stone walls and window frames.

A cold wind blew from nowhere, howling and swirling through the quiet room, scattering countless tiny ice crystals across the floor and sending Ignis's icy-blue hair whipping wildly.

But Ignis ignored all of this. She simply stood up quietly, pushed open the door, and walked straight out.

The heavy clicks of high heels echoed softly through the empty corridor of the monastery.

The sound drew closer and closer, finally stopping before a certain door.

Ignis reached out and knocked gently on the door.

“Who is it?” A purple-haired woman poked her head out. “Oh, Ignis? What are you doing here?”

“I have some business to attend to outside,” Ignis said flatly.

“Ah? Where are you going?” Camilla gasped, asking in surprise.

Didn't she usually stay cooped up in her room all day, never stepping out unless there was some major cult incident?

Just who had enough influence to draw this shut-in out?

“I'm going to Lightless Street,” Ignis said quietly. “And while I'm at it, I'll clean up a stray dog.”