Bernadette glanced at the scattered flesh on the ground and asked inwardly: "What do we do with him?"
"If we leave him, he'll find a way to slaughter innocents to restore himself with their blood and flesh. But if we just kill him off…"
Vincent had no moral hesitation about finishing off a cult fanatic with blood on his hands. But the Backlund situation was still unresolved. A living Mr. Z might still serve some purpose.
"Do you know any deserted island with animals but no people?"
Bernadette raised one hand. Green Beanstalk Vines erupted from nothing, rapidly wrapping themselves around the scattered pieces of flesh and bundling them together.
She stepped through the Spirit World. After a short transit, she emerged on a lush, uninhabited island. "Mr. Z — this island has enough wildlife for you to restore yourself. Once you've recovered, have my Invisible Servant inform me, and I'll come for you."
She didn't wait for a response. She stepped back through the Spirit World and was in Backlund again.
Back in the sitting room, she moved to the fragment of flesh on the floor — the one that had already gone inert — and her eyes went deep. A blurry vision formed before her:
A clock tower.
Mr. Z slips into the shadow of the tall man and enters the tower undetected. The man ascends to the top floor. A bespectacled man is waiting — Lanevus.
A brief exchange. Then Lanevus rips his shirt open—
Bernadette's spirituality gave a violent lurch. She cut the vision off at once, pulling herself free from the hazy dream-state. Even so, two tracks of vivid red ran down her cheeks.
"You again."
Vincent genuinely did not know what to say about her. At least Klein had the Grey Fog as a buffer. Bernadette was just launching herself headlong into these things bare.
Bernadette wiped away the blood-tears. "What I caught from Lanevus just now — the feeling was almost identical to the first time we came face to face with the True Creator. Every trace of the divine pressure was there, except for the maddening gibberish. That level of god-pressure…"
"At this rate, even without a ritual, the True Creator will descend through Lanevus on His own."
"Wasn't that His plan from the beginning?" Vincent said.
She raised her wrist — the one with the cross-shaped bracelet — and frowned at it. "I'm just a little confused. Didn't Mr. Z say before that the True Creator had handed all Backlund matters over to you?"
Vincent laughed flatly. "Your Majesty, I think you overestimate how much weight I carry with Him. He's a True God — gods do as they please. Why would He care about me?"
He paused. "Besides — the True Creator's cognition is… distinctly unusual. Inconsistency is perfectly normal for Him."
Bernadette held the bracelet a moment longer, then let her gaze drift to the window and the deep crimson sky outside.
"Is that so," she said quietly.
...
The Forsaken Land of the Gods.
The exploration team led by City of Silver Council Elder Lovia had set out two days ago, bound for the half-collapsed temple.
Derrick had not, as in the original story, faked signs of impending loss of control at Alger's suggestion to dodge the expedition. He hadn't heard enough damning detail about the True Creator through the Tarot Club to form a strong impression of danger from Elder Lovia. And besides — Lovia had mentioned that the ruined temple's walls might carry murals of the Angel of Time.
The team picked its way across the lightless wilderness, heading toward a destination they couldn't see.
Elder Lovia walked at the head, a lantern in hand that could only hold back the dark a few metres in any direction. How she navigated — how she was certain they hadn't gone wrong — nobody could say.
The team behind her moved in total silence, each step placed as softly as possible, avoiding anything that might draw the monsters lurking in the dark.
As the only Prayer-of-Light user in the team — and, in truth, the only one in the whole City of Silver — Derrick kept his full attention engaged at all times, ready to deploy Sun-domain spells against whatever might lunge at them from the blackness.
Overhead, the sky flickered with intermittent lightning — the only way the City of Silver had to mark time. Through his sessions with the Tarot Club and his private meetings with Mr. Fool, Derrick had slowly worked out a rough formula for converting "City of Silver time" to the outside world.
Glancing at the ruined temple — still nowhere in sight — a quiet anxiety stirred in him. If his estimate was right, tomorrow was the next weekly Tarot Club. He was out in the wilderness. How was he supposed to attend? Should he send an advance prayer to Mr. Fool apologising for missing next week's session?
The problem was — with the whole team watching each other constantly, he had no way to pray in private.
Survival here demanded that no one be out of everyone else's sight, ever. This was the hardest-won lesson of a thousand years of deaths — even for something as basic as relieving yourself, you did it in front of the group. And when you slept, someone always kept watch.
"We're here."
Just as his thoughts were drifting, Elder Lovia's calm voice cut through the dark. She stopped and looked ahead.
Derrick's attention snapped back. Ahead, fifty or so metres away, the darkness had thickened into a massive shadow. In the lantern's faint reach, nothing was visible — but that had to be the temple Lovia had spoken of.
"From this point on—"
Lovia turned to face the young team, her expression grave. "You are forbidden — absolutely forbidden — to look at anything carelessly, to eat or touch anything, or to listen to any sound without immediately covering your ears and informing me."
"These rules exist for your safety. Is that understood?"
Every head in the group nodded firmly. They had agreed to all of this before setting out. Out here, silence was the rule.
"Move out!"
She led them forward at a quicker pace.
As they drew closer, the lantern's glow finally reached the structure — a ruin, but vast and once magnificent. Time had gnawed it apart: walls collapsed, plaster fallen away in sheets, the whole left side tilted low while the right stayed higher — the left half had sunk into the earth. Even the temple's great doorway had been nearly swallowed by the ground.
Lovia reached the doorway, didn't bother clearing the soil — just crouched and crawled through the narrow gap that remained. The team followed one by one, forming an orderly line.
All ten of them — Lovia included — crawled through a cramped, suffocating corridor for approximately ten minutes. Then the front of the line vanished: Lovia had leapt. Derrick scrambled forward and at the end of the passage flung himself off after her.
"Rest where you are. Eat and drink."
He'd barely found his footing when Lovia's command came. Those already down settled themselves immediately against the nearest wall, producing their rations of black meal-bread and water, beginning to recover.
Derrick took a long pull of water and scanned his surroundings.
They were in what had once been a vast hall. Half of it had been consumed by toppled walls and encroaching earth, reducing the space to half its original size. The two walls that still stood more or less intact had iron brackets at regular intervals all the way along — torch holders, running into the darkness ahead.
While the team rested, Lovia had already hung several oil lanterns along both sides of the room, pooling the light around their position.
Derrick was still looking when Lovia caught his eye.
"Derrick."
She gave him a brief glance. "Come with me."
"Yes, Elder Lovia."
Derrick shoved the last of the black bread down and followed quickly, earning puzzled looks from the rest of the team.
Lovia walked ahead with her lantern, went straight to one of the intact walls, lifted the light, and said: "This — is the Angel of Time we once worshipped here in the City of Silver."
Derrick looked up.
On the wall was painted a figure with twelve wings. He held a cross in both hands, the light of the sun radiating from behind him. Black hair. Black eyes. A slender face with a broad forehead. Lips curved slightly in a quiet, knowing smile, eyes gazing straight ahead.
On his right eye: a crystalline monocle.
To be continued…
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