After repeatedly escaping death, they each decided today to open up to one another. There was no longer any hesitation or suspicion, because they had all experienced the same thing.
"I want to tell you something," Felina said quietly. "Do you three want to hear it?"
Felina had already revealed that she had possessed the body of someone from the past. Zuhen made no comment after hearing this. Whether it was an illusion or reality, his resolve to uncover the truth was unwavering.
Aaron nodded hesitantly, as though something about Felina did not sit right with him, especially after what had happened that night.
'Did she enter a different historical tale? Does that history correspond to the past? If so, then what happened to those two? I don't know which era Actitus and Zuhen entered. They're keeping quiet, but Actitus is the only one showing signs of something being wrong.'
After thinking it through carefully, Aaron realized that there had been no significant changes in Zuhen. He could still smoke. His expression remained calm, as though nothing in his life was wrong. A wave of unease washed over Aaron as he considered everything. Above all, he hoped nothing would happen to him or the others.
That man who had suddenly appeared was extremely dangerous. That was the only thought occupying Aaron's mind. He wanted to leave, but he was too reluctant to deal with the trouble. One thing was certain: if Aaron decided to act, it meant he was taking the matter seriously.
"Just tell us," Zavi said. "I'd be glad if you're willing to talk to us."
Zavi smiled broadly, his face showing no sign of anything unusual, only hope.
Hearing that, Felina looked at Celvira, who responded with a nod. Celvira remained silent, unsure of what to say. She was supposed to be polite and friendly when speaking to others. Although it was troublesome, especially given her status as an evil spirit, she did so because of the contract.
She wanted to become stronger, at least enough to reach Level 4, Overoliridya. She had long yearned for that level, as had many other evil spirits, because it possessed a unique advantage that allowed their existence to persist even after their supernatural forms had been destroyed.
Seeing that everyone agreed, Felina did not hesitate to tell them about the matter that had been troubling her. Sitting beside Celvira on the long white sofa, she took a deep breath before slowly exhaling, then swept her gaze across them.
"I... entered the body of the ruler of BlackLand, Luciven Voldemort. Although that creature completely controlled my will, little by little, I could feel the sensation of silence as three rulers from the great continents swung their swords at one another."
Aaron's eyes widened. He thought quickly before saying,
"Wait. Don't tell me... you entered the same era as me?"
"The same era?" Felina almost frowned.
Holding his breath as a chill suddenly spread throughout his body, Aaron nodded.
"Yes."
After each of them spoke, the memories of entering the tale against their will began to surface, one by one, with surprising clarity.
In truth, the "Puppeteer" ability could provide access to the memories of characters within the tale's storyline without any conditions. Once the book was opened, the tale would proceed on its own according to the sequence and chain of events written by the puppeteer.
Therefore, if someone who entered the tale left before the story ended, they would not be able to obtain the memories from that "tale."
That was exactly what had happened to them. Instead of completing the story, they had broken through the fourth wall, met their author, and brought the writing to a halt. For now, those memories remained buried within the minds of the characters who had played important roles in the "tale" so that the storyline could continue, though they were still hazy.
"Just tonight, those memories appeared. And apparently, the war had already existed when the lunar calendar was first created. From that era, there was a conversation between the ruler of BlackLand and someone I don't even know. This is what they said."
....
"So, ruler of a place called BlackLand. Do you want to put an end to all this?" someone asked, their tone seemingly disgusted by the chaos unfolding around them.
Luciven remained silent for two seconds before saying, "Stop talking nonsense. They aren't easy opponents. They clearly aren't human. How could a weapon like a sword possibly win a battle against their black magic?"
The figure sitting beside him chuckled softly.
"That's why I'm offering you a deal," he said with a faint grin.
"What do you mean? A deal for what?"
As the supreme ruler of BlackLand, Luciven had been forced to abandon them all in order to survive and reclaim his territory from the mustached dictator.
"A deal to kill... that mustached man." At the end of the sentence, the figure's voice carried an unmistakable excitement, as though eagerly anticipating that moment.
Luciven frowned as he stared at the figure.
"Who are you? Why do you have horns on your forehead?"
"Who am I?" Instead of answering, the figure seemed to have forgotten who he truly was.
Several seconds later, while staring at the miserable human with glowing violet-black eyes in the darkness of the underground castle ruins, the figure took several steps forward and stopped two meters in front of Luciven, who sat there hugging his knees.
"I am... a jinn. I have no name. I came here to help miserable humans like you."
Luciven's eyes widened as his weakened body struggled to stand, determined to look at the figure's face. Just as he reached out to grab its shoulder, his body reached its limit and collapsed with a heavy thud before the underground silence swallowed him.
The figure half-turned, its eyes seeming to lose something as it watched the human.
"How pitiful. How about we work together? It's a pretty good offer for a human like you..."
Luciven groaned from the pain caused by the mustached man's black magic, which was gradually destroying his internal organs. He had no idea when his body would finally give out. Worse still, after awakening from such a long unconsciousness, finding a strange figure beside him was deeply suspicious.
"I don't know what a jinn is," Luciven called out, his voice trembling.
"So..." The nameless jinn stared intently at the man, its violet-black eyes blazing like flames.
"So what? Cough, cough, cough."
The coughing fit cut off his words, while his vision grew increasingly blurred as he struggled to see something as radiant as the jinn.
As a cold sensation enveloped his body, Luciven opened his eyes for the final time. He gazed upon the figure's imposing and majestic form, yet there was something behind the jinn's body, something with two black wings stretching as far as the eye could see.
In his final moments, when his heartbeat had stopped, darkness immediately welcomed him as his breathing and heartbeat finally came to rest forever.
....
That was the memory deeply embedded within Felina's mind. She was still uncertain whether it had been fabricated or was truly an event that had happened centuries ago.
That doubt could be dispelled by the fact that the buildings from that era still existed in the present, along with the remnants of what had once happened there. Especially the jinn, the name of the ruler of the great continent, and the unexpected encounter recorded in the history books.
"So, what do you think about it? The jinn... do any of you know who that figure was?" After saying that, Felina fell silent, waiting for their response, hoping they might help her make sense of what she had experienced.
Zavi remained silent, still processing the rather incomplete story. Aaron, however, immediately grasped the most important point: the encounter between Luciven Voldemort and the mysterious figure known as a jinn.
"Allow me to give my opinion," Aaron said, his tone serious.
"As for that, I recently... no, quite some time ago, received some information for free from someone."
Aaron raised one eyebrow, a familiar gesture directed at Zavi. Seeing it, Zavi fell silent for a moment as he tried to understand what Aaron meant, before realizing the truth.
Yes, as if exchanging thoughts without speaking, their attention returned to the moment when Hana and Mine had discussed Felina's mysterious, incomplete story.
Aaron's eyes returned to normal as he finally said,
"That was a jinn. As far as I know, it's the third level after Recipestele, which is at the second level."
'Of course I know. I've fought that troublesome creature before. No wonder that man, Aaron Kwok, went out of his way to tell me about it. If you want to defeat them, you have to separate the contractor from their contracted creature.'
Lost in thought, Aaron looked toward Zuhen, waiting for his reaction.
In truth, Zuhen was not particularly surprised. Tell had already told him about it twelve years ago, right after Zuhen had given the Recipestele the name "Tell."
Tell should not have been able to survive in the human world until now after losing its contractor. So the world balanced the two sides by stripping away their power or forcing them to encounter powerful opponents with supernatural Exorcist abilities, imposing upon them the punishment of an endless sleep with no clear end.
It was all similar to that infamous disease, because "Resse" and "Recipestele" were supernatural creatures of the same type, belonging to the lower class of supernatural beings beneath the highest known class, "Jakharot."
Calmly, Zuhen took out his pack of cigarettes, causing the mahogany chair beneath him to scrape softly against the floor.
He pulled out a cigarette and placed it between his lips. After taking a long drag, white smoke slowly escaped through his lips.
"It's not that I don't want to comment, but I'm not comfortable talking about it," Zuhen said, staring blankly at the glowing ember of his cigarette.
The others opened their mouths slightly, understanding why Zuhen did not want to discuss the matter. With no other topic left to discuss, the four of them bid farewell to Zuhen's family and left the house, heading toward Layana City's square.
Inside the house, Zuhen lay back and stared at the ceiling, his head resting against a pillow on the arm of the long sofa. His legs moved restlessly while smoke continued to drift from his mouth, clearing his thoughts. At least, that was how it felt to him.
...
At the city square, the cultural festival organizers supervised workers and residents who had volunteered to help erect several tents and tarps to ensure the event ran smoothly.
People from all walks of life, from children to elderly men, arrived with high hopes of enjoying the event until it ended. Some helped hold iron poles, while others worked on the tarps and decorations to beautify the area for the night.
The preparations had actually been completed the previous afternoon, but the organizers added several more facilities because more visitors were expected than originally anticipated.
The clock struck exactly seven in the evening, one hour before the event was scheduled to begin. With every passing second, visitors from the city and neighboring cities continued to arrive, eager to watch one of the many performances listed on the distributed pamphlets.
The organizers had even gone to great lengths to invite circus clubs and theatrical acting troupes to liven up the event. They had also invited an influential figure from the city, the man who held control over the historic city of Layana.
Count Wilt Neeson Helisse.
The nobleman's arrival prompted other nobles who had previously rejected the invitation to attend as well. Their reason for refusing had been simple: they did not want to mingle with commoners, let alone watch a cultural festival alongside the lower classes.
Around five nobles, each ruling their own territory, arrived with their partners and families.
Their appearance was anything but ordinary as they walked with measured steps across the red carpet prepared by the organizers. The scent of their perfume lingered even after they had moved away from the area.
The citizens welcomed their presence without taking offense when the nobles looked at them as though they were nothing more than trash. Rather than dwell on the nobles' behavior, they tried to remain calm and think rationally, knowing the opening ceremony was about to begin.
Among the fences surrounding the main stage and the tents erected above it, bright lights illuminated the area. White spotlights swept in semicircles behind the stage.
"Attention, everyone..." the host said cheerfully, his voice flowing like a river.
"You've all been waiting for this event, haven't you?" He paused for a moment, directing the megaphone toward the crowd.
Cheers erupted throughout the city square, stirring excitement in everyone's hearts. The host glanced at his pocket watch, watching the second hand for several moments before closing it again.
He raised his gaze toward the important figures seated not far ahead, lined up as they stared sharply at the stage.
For a moment, the man felt their pressure weighing on him, though the cheers of the crowd drove the uncertainty from his heart.
"All right. I'll be straightforward, and we'll get straight to the heart of the event."
Far from the main stage, where a wide curtain and various objects such as musical instruments were covered with cloth, the man bowed deeply.
Farther from the stage, where vendors lined the paths with different goods at every turn, several people appeared serious rather than enjoying the event, their gazes meeting one another.
"Is it true that this event is a 'money circulation'?" the man asked, making quotation marks with his fingers as he held his breath.
"Yes. That's what the rumors say," replied the straight-haired man calmly, as though he had no fear of the trouble that might come their way.
Another man who heard this instinctively glanced around and stepped closer. He lowered his hat slightly, opened his mouth, and spoke in a hushed voice.
"I'm not getting involved if you guys get caught by them."
"Why be afraid? It's the truth," another man commented.
"Whatever. The three of you can deal with it. I'll just stay quiet and listen to this ridiculous conversation."
"Yeah, I know the risks, but there's something strange about this place."
The straight-haired man raised an eyebrow.
"Something strange? Oh, don't tell me it's a bunch of people with their eyes covered and dressed entirely in white?"
"That's what we should be talking about, not the event."
The man in the hat lifted it, revealing his face with confidence.
Amid the bustle of the lower street surrounding the square, where vendors' tents filled the roadside, a man walked alongside his companion, his eyes lighting up at the sight of the crowded area.
"How the hell did we even get here?" the brown-haired man asked in confusion.
"Well, take a guess how I managed to bring you here," his companion replied, teasing him.
The man fell silent, staring at her with his brow almost furrowed before saying,
"Damn, what about them? Have they been captured by the envoys of the Nagreitta Church?"
Instead of answering, the woman revealed something that had been troubling her.
"I didn't expect the Cathedral of Auneron to realize that we were there, too."
The man's eyes widened for a fraction of a second before he slumped onto a wooden crate beside someone's stall.
"Hey, Elvira," Maeressa said. "Could you buy me that food?"
Elvira sighed.
"Fine. Wait here. I'll be right back, and don't cause any trouble."
Maeressa watched the woman's back as she walked away, her lips drooping.
"Wait here. I'll be right back."
Fortunately, Elvira did not hear her. If she had, Maeressa probably wouldn't have been able to stand again. If things went badly, she might never have been able to see the world again.
They had come here to search for their companions, who had scattered after the pursuit. Unexpectedly, the two of them had entered an area filled with thousands of people, surrounded by murmurs coming from every direction.