Chapter 7: The Black Cat

They didn't make any move on the street, just followed that bird—or rather, the thing that resembled a bird, while moving stealthily under the concealment spell. The creature still moved with difficulty, very slowly, very slowly, like a pantomime stage play, or a tedious script by a avant-garde playwright, with the two of them as involuntary actors in it.

Though the houses on either side appearing empty, what was actually inside? Who knew if behind some dark, gloomy windows, there were grotesquely shaped creatures observing the ground? Otherwise, where did all the household garbage and smashed human corpses come from? 

This world was so unpleasant; the houses themselves seemed like monsters. Looking out through the spell, the scenery was nauseating beyond imagination. On both sides of the crooked streets that resembled a child's scribbles, there were grotesque boxes—or houses—messed up like cream cakes dropped in the mud. Through the gray filter that submerged this world, it felt as if one's ears were plugged with cotton, eyes soaked in cozy mist, and the mind immersed in a bucket of glue. It was maddening.

"It went in," Salser frowned, thinking to himself that he felt like a fish being hooked.

The deep purple house in front was unusually large. It was exceptionally tall and somewhat flat, yet curved overall. At first glance, it looked like a stack of torn playing cards hastily glued together; at second glance, it resembled a precarious pile of human tumors on the verge of collapse.

"I've never seen a house shaped like this," Jeanne said, "Staying in this thing? It’d be enough to push anyone over the brink, into murder or madness."

"You've certainly done both," Salser taunted her,  "I'm well aware of your expertise in that regard."

“I could snap and fling your soul into the Warren any second now. Fancy a gamble?”

"Please step out of my concealment spell before you go mad," Salser taunted her again.

Jeanne gave him an extremely nasty glare.

"I relish that expression of yours, loathing me yet helpless to change it. It serves as a delightful release for my tension."

"Pah." She was venting her pent-up anger, but she hadn't eaten for a long time and was very thirsty, unable to even spit.

Salser just shook his head. 

"So, I must inquire, are we truly intending to follow that thing inside?"

"I need to eat and rest, and I’m not about to bunk down in a heap of trash. If there’s any lurking menace in this house, we’ll snuff it out. Who’s to say what creeps will be out after dark around here, and—" Jeanne sneered, "Spare me the act. You’ve felt it too, right? Some pair of eyes in there, sizing us up from the shadows."

"I've detected no sensation, my spells remain unresponsive—is this a facet of the training you endure?"

“Merely a knack of mine,” Jeanne shrugged.

"So you're aware that something is using that monstrous bird as bait, yet you still wish to charge in and meet your demise?" Salser asked her bluntly.

"You ain't telling me you have been living like some rat, are you?" Jeanne's mockery was even more direct.

"What is it that you desire then, should I charge into the Empress's chamber and assassinate her?"

"I've crashed through countless of heretics' feasts with my guardian knights and priests, making damn sure they pay for their sins—and this time won't be any different. Suck it up or die."

"Tch... I detest your approach."

 

Salser frowned in dissatisfaction but didn't say anything more. He turned around, extinguished the torch in Jeanne's hand, and pointed his index finger at the Inquisitor's eyeball.

 

"Remain still, in this confined space, I must alter the manner in which the spell operates."

It seemed he adapted to reality quickly, or perhaps he was actually quite easy to talk to.

Jeanne displayed no hesitation in her willingness to cooperate. She merely appeared somewhat irritated by the finger—the one emanating a sinister glow—clenching her teeth, a clear indication of her foul temper. The Inquisitor had never witnessed so many evil god spells in a single day, more than she had encountered in her entire life—and they were all used on her.

The light flickered and vanished, and Jeanne blinked. Her golden pupils started to emit a faint luminescence, looking very alluring. Yet, they were eyes that also held a perilous edge.

"What's the effect...?" She asked.

"The main function is to allow you to see some spectra that human vision cannot distinguish, and the secondary function... is night vision."

"What does spectrum mean?" Jeanne quickly recovered her mood.

"Our own term, it can't be clearly explained in an hour," Salser walked towards the house and gestured for her to follow. In reality, he only had a vague understanding of it himself.

"Then forget it, lectures are the last thing I want to hear."

Jeanne drew her pitch-black long sword and stepped into the dark entrance.

After entering, there was a winding, dim corridor. The corridor was surprisingly tidy, like a villa inhabited by a noble. But looking around with eyes enchanted with spells—it was dark and dirty, the walls and floors crawled with what seemed like fading bloodstains and fingerprints. It was filthy and extremely ominous. Salser placed his hand on a clear blood handprint and touched it—he could feel the remnants of despair and fear, and fragments of shattered souls.

"This joint's gotta be pulling in civilians from outside all the time," Jeanne said, "The missing people cases around the Holy City? No answers yet... maybe it's related to this."

"It's nothing remarkable, the lives lost in last year's war could populate this inexplicable city,"  Salser said indifferently, "And after all..."

At that moment, a small black cat jumped out from somewhere and landed at Jeanne's feet. It had a rather human-like smile on its face, making soft "meow meow" sounds, trying to rub against her ankle.

"What do you think this means?" Salser asked her casually.

"I've heard black cats got something to do with them Wax witches, but I ain't getting it," Jeanne scoffed, "Those harmless hicks who mess with medium magic—they ain't ever gonna be mixed up with the Church."

"That's discrimination," Salser said, "I too am a harmless witch who uses mediumistic magic."

"You call ripping apart souls for spell ingredients 'medium magic'!? The Wax witches just pitifully beg some weak spirits to do their bidding, but you? You completely destroy them, even sacrificing them to evil gods!" She glared with murderous intent. 

Hearing this, the black cat immediately stopped smiling. It quietly took a step back but bumped into a transparent wall.

Thud—

A very light impact sound, the sound of the cat's back hitting the magical cage.

Salser glanced over with a half-smile. Under that gaze, its body stiffened, its fur stood on end, its eyes radiated alertness, and it stared fixedly at Salser's hand. The hand wrapped in black mist...

"Look at our adorable little creature, did it perceive us as harmless civilians?"

"Is this thing a shape-shifter?" Jeanne also sneered, looking down at it.

"You're overthinking, this thing is merely a small animal with rudimentary intelligence."

"That's a damn shame." Jeanne sheathed her sword, bent down, and picked up the frightened little animal.

"You think this cat's good to eat?" She asked again.

It looked at Jeanne with a very human-like terrified expression, and at Salser, "......I can provide food for you, respected messengers of the gods."

"Oh, how understanding you are," Salser applauded, naturally, he couldn't consume a cat with human intelligence; this was merely a scare tactic, "Would you care to inform me of your Master's identity, and what you intended to accomplish? Witness the plight of the civilians who end up here as they fight for their lives?"

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