Entrustment

“Wait.”

The cold wind carried the scent of the cemetery's damp earth.

Ms. Cecil stopped Elias.

She held the Scale One potion in her hand.

The viscous liquid inside the glass bottle emitted a faint, eerie glow.

“Have you made up your mind?”

Ms. Cecil looked away from the potion and stared into Elias's eyes.

She seemed to want to confirm one last time.

“The effects of a potion are irreversible.”

She gritted her teeth, each word sounding as if it were being forced out of her throat.

“Once she drinks this, she crosses the line completely and becomes a transcendent.”

“Especially with her talent, it's almost a certainty...”

What did it mean to become a transcendent?

It meant the constant risk of sliding into the abyss of loss of control. It meant dealing with unspeakable monsters, twisted cultists, and insane peers for the rest of one's life.

It meant that whatever remained of Charlotte's ordinary life would be utterly destroyed.

Elias lowered his head, his chest heaving violently.

His nails dug deep into his palms, but the pain felt distant and numb.

Before him, Charlotte's once vibrant face was now being eroded by a greyish-black hue.

If she didn't drink it, she would die right now.

No, perhaps it would be something worse than death.

“Do I have a choice?”

Elias suddenly looked up and asked back.

His voice was incredibly hoarse.

This was a dead end that required no answer.

Either watch his sister die before his eyes, or personally push her into another literal hell of madness.

Ms. Cecil took a deep breath. The icy air filled her lungs, forcibly suppressing the turmoil in her heart.

“Since you've decided, then so be it.”

She cut off the pointless sentimentality with clinical efficiency.

In this godforsaken world, sentiment was the most worthless scrap.

Ms. Cecil knelt on one knee and uncorked the Scale One potion.

Her expression cold and solemn, she watched Charlotte's eroding face and brought the bottle to the girl's lips.

The viscous, eerily glowing potion began to flow slowly into Charlotte's pale, cracked mouth.

As the potion went down her throat, the grey-black erosion on Charlotte's face reacted as if it had encountered boiling acid, beginning to churn and struggle violently.

This dual reconstruction of the physical and supernatural levels was enough to make anyone's skin crawl just by watching.

Elias stared fixedly at his sister's face, not daring to even blink.

Just then, deep in his mind, that habitually ill-timed voice popped up again.

“Then what about you?”

Old Ed's voice carried the playful yet worried tone of an old fox who had seen it all.

“Ten resonance stacks of Soul Screams...”

The old man made a clicking sound in Elias's head.

“That's no joke. If your body can't handle it, your brains will explode like they were put in a steam boiler—'bang', just like fireworks.”

Elias felt his temples throbbing.

“Is now the time for this?”

He asked back coldly, his tone devoid of any warmth.

He was like an active volcano on the verge of eruption, and Old Ed chose this moment to toss pebbles into the crater.

“Old man, if you're really afraid...”

Elias pulled a cold, ruthless smile in his consciousness.

“I'll hand you over right now.”

“You can find someone else to help you.”

The voice in his head instantly stalled.

“What kind of talk is that?!”

Old Ed shouted with exaggerated shock, like a cat that had its tail stepped on.

“I'm just kindly reminding you to consider the problem!”

“At this godforsaken juncture, I'm your only support!”

The old man grumbled irritably before softening his tone.

“However...”

“I can understand.”

Old Ed sighed, rarely putting away his punchable, entertainment-seeking face.

“If it were me, I probably wouldn't be any better.”

...

The cold wind outside continued to blow.

Elias ignored the old ghost in his head.

With a soft sound, an object traced an arc through the air, flying straight toward Elias.

Elias instinctively raised his hand.

A cold sensation landed in his palm.

It was a small sphere, its surface covered in intricate engraved patterns.

“An 【Arcane Step】 orb.”

Ms. Cecil stood up and casually tossed the empty potion bottle aside.

“You might find it useful.”

In this peril-filled cemetery, having one more means of mobility was equivalent to having an extra life.

Elias gripped the heavy orb.

The ghostly blue light reflected off his bloodless face.

“Thanks.”

He forced out the word.

“And this.”

As they spoke, Ms. Cecil flicked her wrist.

A rugged-looking weapon was thrown over.

Elias caught it.

It was a short-barreled shotgun.

The weapon was heavy, its walnut stock covered in incantations.

The dark barrels emitted an unsettling chill.

“Don't die.”

Ms. Cecil looked at him, a flash of complex emotion in her grey eyes.

“This gun can copy the properties of other supernatural items.”

Elias raised an eyebrow.

Copying properties?

That was a powerful tool.

But he knew very well that there were no free lunches.

Sure enough.

Ms. Cecil immediately followed up: “The negative property is that it causes the user to randomly forget one piece of known supernatural knowledge.”

“The duration of the forgetfulness is twenty-four to seventy-two hours.”

“So use it with caution.”

The price of firing the gun was a literal case of 'brainstem deficiency'.

If he forgot a critical piece of survival knowledge at a crucial moment, he would die a truly pathetic death.

“Understood.”

Elias nodded, tucked the short-barreled shotgun into his waist, and stuffed the orb into the inner pocket of his coat.

Equipped.

He felt the weight on his body, and the blood in his veins seemed to start burning again.

That battle intent, a mixture of fear and madness, was slowly consuming his sanity.

It was time to go back and clean up those bastards.

He turned around, about to step back into that blood-soaked battlefield.

But his steps came to a sudden halt.

He turned his head and looked at Ms. Cecil, who was still standing there.

Moonlight filtered through the heavy clouds, spilling onto her blood-stained trench coat.

“I'm entrusting Lottie to you.”

Elias's voice was soft, yet carried an unquestionable determination.

“Objectively, I can't take her back to Moon Bay.”

“It's too dangerous there.”

That was the stronghold of Wayland Capital, a meat grinder filled with various conspiracies and cultists.

“So I can only entrust her to you.”

Elias's gaze became sharp.

“But remember, not as an informant.”

He gritted his teeth, emphasizing every word.

“But as a brother, entrusting her to her teacher.”

This was a personal entrustment of emotion, unrelated to cold institutions or cold-blooded calculations.

Elias took a deep breath, his lungs full of the chill.

“As for tonight's events, I find myself unable to fully trust your Seventh Agency.”

These stinging words seemed to drop the surrounding temperature by a few more degrees.

“Can I trust you?”

“Ms. Cecil?”

Faced with Elias's blatant suspicion and questioning, Ms. Cecil fell silent.

She completely understood where this distrust came from.

Just now, through the investigators who had entered the cemetery, she had learned about all the mess that had happened tonight.

The entire situation was as rotten as a pot of spoiled soup.

Just as she had guessed before arriving, Luke's identity was indeed problematic.

That guy, who usually seemed so submissive, was actually a mole planted right next to them.

But what she hadn't expected was...

While the agency was secretly planning to move against Wayland Capital, Wayland had already driven a spike into the agency's deepest core.

It was terrifying.

The feeling of being watched in the dark, of having one's neck quietly constricted by a behemoth, gave even her a chill.

Just how rotten was the Seventh Agency internally?

She looked at the young man before her, who was prepared to risk everything for his sister, and said seriously:

“Since you've put it that way.”

Ms. Cecil stood tall and solemnly placed her right hand over her heart.

“I can promise you that I will protect Charlotte's safety with my life.”

Her voice wasn't loud, but it carried weight.

“Of course, don't misunderstand.”

Ms. Cecil continued, her tone returning to its usual coldness.

“This isn't for you.”

“It's also because of the respect and affection this child has always shown me.”

She looked at Charlotte lying on the ground, the erosion gradually fading, and a rare softness appeared in her eyes.

“Good.”

Hearing this, Elias's tense shoulders relaxed slightly, and he nodded.

“Our cooperation can continue.”

“But only between you and me.”

Ms. Cecil understood what he meant.

He was referring to the investigations and transactions in Moon Bay they had previously agreed upon.

From now on, Elias only trusted her as an individual.

“However.”

Elias's gaze moved past Ms. Cecil, looking tenderly at his sister lying on the cold ground.

At this moment, the grey-black on Charlotte's face had vanished, replaced by a sickly pallor.

“When she wakes up, I want you to let her choose for herself.”

Elias's voice carried a deep sense of exhaustion and helplessness.

“If she wants to return to her previous life, then please use the Seventh Agency's methods to make her forget all of this.”

In this world full of monsters, ignorance was sometimes the greatest blessing.

“Even though, as you said, the effects of the potion are irreversible.”

“I also believe you have the means to achieve my request.”

If the Seventh Agency could handle so many supernatural incidents, they surely had a way to wipe a person's memory or seal a portion of their power.

Ms. Cecil watched him quietly for a long time.

She gave a silent nod.

She had accepted this heavy promise.

Elias withdrew his gaze.

He reached out to tug at the collar of his coat and adjusted the short-barreled shotgun at his waist.

He turned his back to Ms. Cecil and began to walk away.

“And one more thing.”

His final instruction drifted through the wind.

“If I die in there.”

His pace did not falter, his back looking as solitary and resolute as a broken spear.

“Please wait as long as possible before telling her.”

“The later, the better.”