Chapter 7
Crow
In the dead of the night.
Sylvia sensed the ominous aura hanging in the air. She looked toward the bed not far away.
There, Isabella's head peeked out from under the covers, her expression complicated as she looked at the doll sitting by the window.
The doll directed her two purple orbs to the petite girl lying under layers of blankets, darkness did nothing to hinder her vision.
She chuckled softly and spoke:
"What is it? Can’t sleep?”
"I... am a little nervous."
Isabella said in a small voice.
After all, with such a large puppet sitting in the corner smiling at you, no one could sleep peacefully.
"Need help?"
Looking at the cripy smiling face of the puppet, the girl replied:
"Thank you, Your Eminence, for your kindness, but I wouldn’t trouble you."
After speaking, Isabella withdrew her head under the covers, and the room fell into silence.
Sylvia, meanwhile, continued to sit there without speaking.
Time passed, and even breathing gradually filled the quiet room.
A mild wave of drowsiness slowly infected the puppet.
Drowsiness?
She murmured, her mouth curved into an unsettling smile, the kind that only an inanimate puppet can make.
Good.
She did not resist, but went along with it and closed her eyes.
A puppet wouldn’t need to sleep, but who knows what might greet her in the dreamscape.
...
Amidst the thick gray mist, Sylvia slowly opened her eyes.
Listening to the sound of flowing water, her spiritual strings reached out to the gray world —
Then she realized it; she was transparent, wisps of gray mist floated through her body.
"As expected."
"You are an apostle of the Outer God."
Suddenly, a voice came near her feet.
It was a projection of a crow, a mixture of deep purple light and black mist.
Its voice was extremely unpleasant, like shattered glass grinding into each other.
"A Death Spoken Crow, God of Death apostle?"
Sylvia looked toward the crow with her imaginary eyes.
"That's right."
"I serve death. I am a kin of the River of the Dead."
The crow did not deny its identity.
"So, what makes you think I serve an Outer God?"
"Could I not be a kin of an Evil God?"
Sylvia countered.
"Hilarious!"
The figure in Sylvia’s eyes crackled:
"None of those Evil Gods has a kin at the apostle level. Your divinity is leaking.”
"A starlight of different colors, unlike the monotony of True Gods or the amalgamation of Evil Gods.”
"Moreover, I did not find your star under the spiritual sky, which means you are either an apostle of an Outer Gods, or you do not belong in this world.”
The crow explained without a hint of hostility.
What was going on? The crow before her did not seem very hostile.
This was different from the knowledge of mysticism she had encountered!
However, she did not reveal her thoughts and instead began to inquire further:
"So, what is your purpose in coming to find me?"
"To deal with my involvement in your God's ‘arrangement'?"
She deliberately emphasized the word ‘arrangements’, but the crow in front of her simply replied:
"Not at all, and it seems you have some misunderstandings—"
"The anomaly on that girl was not our arrangement."
"The death god divinity on her came from another source."
"Heh."
Sylvia almost laughed out loud on the spot:
"The death god's divinity doesn't come from the death god?"
"Are you joking with me?"
"No."
The crow before her continued shaking its head:
"The divine seat symbolizing death and rebirth did not always belong to the God of Death. In ancient times, it once belonged to the Moon God."
"As an apostle of the Outer God, you should know these things."
No, I don't.
My true body is a lunatic. The knowledge He left me with does not include this.
Sylvia complained inwardly, then asked in return:
"The authority of the God of Death once belonged to the Mother of the Moon?"
At this moment, the crow was still shaking its head:
"No, I mean the Ancient Moon God, not the current 'God of Spirituality'."
Afterwards, it continued the previous topic:
"That secret organization worships precisely the Ancient Moon God and calls itself the Full Moon Sect."
The Full Moon Sect worships the Ancient Moon God, and the authority of death once belonged to the Ancient Moon God...
While these pieces of information circled in her mind, she suddenly thought of something and asked:
"Their symbol. Is it a full moon intertwined with mystical symbols representing life and death?"
"That's right. It seems you have encountered them before."
The crow finally stopped shaking its head and started nodding, and Sylvia realized that it did not know the Full Moon Sect was behind the attack on the steam train transporting her.
Then, the crow’s hoarse voice continued:
"Then the next matter becomes simple."
"Hmm?"
Sylvia used a single syllable to question its words.
"I wish to make a deal with you—"
"Find and eliminate them."
"In exchange, I will not mention your existence to others, and I will acknowledge your ownership of that death god divinity."
"Veiled threats."
Sylvia commented.
"No, I have no intention of threatening you!"
The crow calmly explained:
"Moreover, eliminating them would also benefit you. If you wish to preach on this land, apart from Hethorik, the main obstacle, the Full Moon Sect is also a major threat."
"Therefore, this is a matter of mutual benefit."
"Mutual benefit?"
Sylvia's voice gradually took on a mocking tone:
"Then why don't you do it yourself?"
At this moment, she had sensed something abnormal:
The black mist on the crow thickens, and cracks appear on the little bird like broken cement figure; the lines run criss-cross the crow’s body, and within, eerie purple light leaks.
As the cracks got wider, the crow’s aura became weaker, its shadow flickered, and finally, smoke rose from its body and swirling with the gray fog.
"I have other matters to attend to right now..."
The crow’s words trailed off, later half fading to illegible.
After a few seconds, it spoke again, seeming to use its last ditch of strength.
"My condition is not good. I cannot fight against the Full Moon Sect on my own."
"Were you injured?"
"No, not them."
"Truth be told, they do have apostles among them, but they are not particularly strong."
"Thus, we can help each other."
The crow, perhaps weakened by its wound, now looks shaken and vulnerable.
Sylvia stood in place and thought for a moment before giving a reply:
"I can agree, but before that—"
"I hope we can meet in person."
As her voice fell, the dazzling starlight instantly dispersed.
"Ga?"
The crow stood in place, clearly stunned.
But in the next second—
"Not good! My true body!"