Chapter 28: The Lighthouse

...

"What did you learn from that witch's diary?" Jeanne asked the Dark wizard while hanging below him. Her waist was wrapped around by Salser's shell-like tail, with her entire weight suspended by it. Honestly, the tail was a bit uncomfortable, but after she pulled Salser into the sea by his tongue, he adamantly refused to let Jeanne climb onto his back.

"What do you want to know?" Salser asked her.

He was flying more than a hundred meters above the sea, hunching his back, his two blood-red bat wings gliding on the biting sea wind, looking at the giant swirling vortex of dark clouds with the same somber mood as the sea. His long hair fluttered in the wind, revealing a rigid gaze—the vertical pupils themselves were hard to read for emotions—his complexion neither good nor bad, or equally rigid.

"How to leave," Jeanne replied.

"We need to wait here for half a month, Inquisitor," Salser told her, "Half a month later, it will be the moment when the master of this Warren descends upon this city. At that time, its followers will perform sacrifices in every corner of the world, seeking victims for their deity and sending those victims into this Warren; at the same time—to welcome the sacrifice, a gate directly connected to reality will also open within the Warren."

"So we need to leave during that time?" Jeanne said unhappily.

"Don't always think about unnecessary things," Salser said pointedly, "All we need to do is leave after the gate to reality opens."

"......I know."

Her golden eyes, light hair, and pale cheeks drooped slightly, her gaze falling on the endless horizon where the sea met the sky.

Both of them fell silent.

The swirling black clouds covered the gaps in the sky, making both the sky and the sea grew darker. Lightning struck in the distance, becoming increasingly bright, and in each pale flash, the monotonous and repetitive endless ocean was reflected in their emotionless pupils. Far away, a sea tornado connected the sky-covering black clouds to the seemingly sunken sea surface, stirring up the dark seawater in the cold silence, slowly writhing like a crippled ghost. Rain began to fall from the sky. Through the lightning, through the endless—like an ancient forest densely packed with sea tornadoes, came a gloomy atmosphere—a salty, damp sea breeze.

The rain soaked Jeanne's clothes, she shivered, her cheeks becoming even paler under the lightning, as if made of wax. Between the thundercloud and the sea surface that looked like they were wrapped in a cloak, they seemed abandoned, floating alone between these two layers of the horizon—or two dark abysses.

The lightning was also silent, no thunder could be heard, only the sound of Salser's wings flapping was clear.

"Hey, can you tell me something else from the diary?" Jeanne couldn't help but start talking.

"......What do you want to hear?"

"Anything, useful or not, this place is too unbearable, I feel like I'll die of depression before freezing to death."

"You die so easily."

"I don't want to joke now."

"Alright," Salser maneuvered around the sea tornado. Intermittent raindrops fell on him as if they were about to cease, or perhaps would continue for a long time. He thought for a while, "The Master of the house was a girl naturally tormented by illness—or a natural-born witch, due to her illness, her mental state was not normal. She knew her mother remarried, so she killed her mother, then her father came after hearing the news, so she killed her father, the context should be something like that."

"Oh, it sounds like she could earn a few sympathy points," Jeanne commented indifferently, "But she still has to die, I won't bother with redemption just because her little backstory is tragic."

"Does your doctrine believe she doesn't deserve forgiveness?"

"That's not for me to judge," Jeanne said, "I just fulfill my duties, the Lord would be sad for her illness and suffering, but the Lord would also be sad for his sheeps being killed. What am I here for? To execute punishment with weapons and armor, to purify the mad followers of the evil gods, to execute murderers and criminals, to eliminate spies of malicious heretics, these are the things I should do here, not to be indecisive because I know a criminal's past is tragic and give her forgiveness—unless I think a tragic psychopath causing villages to be burned or victims to bleed is forgivable. That would probably mean the evil god has taken control of my mind."

"A contract of the evil god is already squatting in your mind," Salser corrected her.

"If you try to make my mood worse, I will make something very bad happen to this tail of yours."

"Do you want to go for a swim?"

"You think?"

"Then don't threaten me," Salser said, "Continuing the previous topic—after that, a demon of some unknown branch ate her parents' souls. As a trade, it blessed the witch's body and house with some ancient magic, turning her into a kind of bound spirit, and animated her house. If nothing unexpected happens, that remote place should remain unvisited for centuries. But unfortunately, the followers of the master of the Dream Warren, inspired by divine revelation, went to find suitable dream sources—in simple terms, pollution sources—and she was one of them. After that, they sent her and her house into the Warren through some ritual."

"What about the demon?"

"It ran away," Salser said, "But that's none of our business. What concerns us are the few warnings in her records. The first point is—the streets during the day are actually safe, only harmless bait will lure victims into the city—of course, there are exceptions, excessive provocation can lead to inexplicable disappearances; the streets at night are another world, monsters in every house will uncontrollably come out to walk, and will return to their places of origin at dawn."

"Oh, so when you were carefully hiding in the concealment spell on the streets before—it was actually a waste of effort?" This seemed to cheer her up.

Salser loosened a section of his tail.

"What are you doing!? Do you want to die!?" Jeanne almost fell.

"I'm warning you not to talk nonsense," Salser glanced down at her, and continued, "The second point, intruders who break into this Warren through the dungeon, they will fall into the dream after falling asleep—the dream of the owners of these houses. Many people won't die in the outer layer of the Warren, but they will die in the dream."

"Does this mean—we still have to go on a half-month adventure in this damn dream?"

"Yes."

".......Any other worse news?"

"There's nothing else particularly important, after all, the witch herself is trapped in the black and white world and can't get out."

Jeanne was about to continue responding when a light appeared in the distance. The night was pitch black, through the swirling storm, one could see the dense fog there, like sinking dark clouds. Burning lights were flickering within the fog—in the pale lightning, a slender gray minaret appeared and disappeared within the fog—it was the light of a lighthouse, perhaps signifying an island.

She looked up and exchanged glances with the Dark wizard.

"Keep flying, or go take a look?" Salser asked her.

"Go take a look, I'm freezing to death."

"Actually, I can light a fire to warm you up, although it's a bit wasteful."

"Are you trying to run away again?"

"You're really smart."

Jeanne sneered, "What do you think my opinion would be?"

"Alright, as you wish, let's take a look then," Salser sighed.

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