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墨書 Inktalez
Ambition swells with one's rise in status, leading to power struggles that often result in loss of life. The Feast Night was undoubtedly the largest conflict Blackstone Town had seen in years, with casualties reaching three hundred eighty-seven.
However, when this event is recalled years later, it is often described in these terms: the Feast brought forth bloodshed and cleansed evil.
Whether commoners or nobles, all the major factions in town learned to restrain their ambitions after that night, fearing that such an event might one day befall them.
With the Iron Fist Tavern burned to the ground, Edward had no plans to restart his ventures and spent most of his time mixing drinks, wandering around, and napping. Occasionally, he would assist Dachi with internal issues within the Ekria Family.
In terms of family management, Dachi possessed exceptional talent and experience. With Edward's help, the Ekria Family began to flourish at a remarkable pace, regaining some of its former glory within just a month.
Of course, the most significant changes were occurring in the Southern Suburbs.
Yasthia, as the commander of the tower construction project, gladly accepted assistance from various sources, including the Ekria Family, warriors who had nothing better to do with Edward, and nobles seeking to curry favor...
In just a month, the Watchtower completed its first phase of construction and was already preparing for the second phase of the magical array.
From a distance, the lighthouse took shape. Suddenly, a ninety-four-meter-tall metal tower emerged, designed to house the metal supports for the magical array. It resembled a vividly alive octopus; when sunlight fell upon it, it radiated a dazzling brilliance!
Much gratitude was owed to the generous contributions from Oshuria and Lacreto. According to Garen's bored calculations one day, this wealth could transform twenty-six beggars into wealthy merchants.
"What are your plans next?" Sharg asked as he looked at the Watchtower and then at Garen.
"Build a tower," Garen replied.
"Hey! You're already a wealthy man now; can't you have some dreams?" Sharg pinched his brow and exclaimed. "For example, things you would be passionate about!"
Garen's eyes lit up.
"Haha! Have you thought of something? Come on, tell me! I can't wait!" Sharg said eagerly.
"Guarding the tower!" Garen said seriously.
"..."
Half an hour later, Sharg left the Southern Suburbs and headed towards Roland Street. It was easy to guess that he was probably going to Talina's House. However, there was a strange phenomenon: Sharg had never actually walked through the door of Talina's home; he always just slept on the roof for a while before happily leaving.
Watching Sharg's departing figure, Garen murmured to himself, "Dreams..."
Garen's dreams were certainly not limited to merely guarding the tower. However, if he were to voice them, few would believe him—he hoped that the light of justice would illuminate every corner, and that there would be no more suffering in the world.
Yet, Garen never considered himself a saint.
If you were to lose any person who appeared in your life, or overlook any beautiful scenery you had seen, you would not be who you are today.
Garen was quite satisfied with who he was now, so he was grateful for all the people he had met. He wished for this world to be a beautiful place.
Thus, he was selfish.
In the open space near the Watchtower stood the Newbies' new academy. Mayor Tutulu had relocated the academy here to make it more convenient for Garen to teach. If one listened closely, they could hear the synchronized sound of Newbies running.
Just as Garen was lost in thought, a guard hurriedly approached.
"Is there anything I can help you with?" Garen asked, recognizing from the guard's attire that he was one of the mayor's men.
"Hello, Sir Garen!" The guard greeted respectfully before getting straight to the point. "It's like this: Lord Tutulu has encountered some trouble recently and may need your assistance!"
"Go on," Garen nodded. Without Mayor Tutulu's support, the tower construction wouldn't have gone so smoothly.
However, as he listened to the guard's account, Garen's expression gradually grew serious.
"Nine people have already been killed..." Garen nodded. "Give me the address; I'll go take a look in the next couple of days."
"Sir Garen, you may not fully understand Lord Tutulu's meaning..."
The guard explained, "Actually, Lord Tutulu has already sent people to search for the killer, but they have also gone missing one after another... So my lord suspects that this killer is not an ordinary person; it is very likely that they are a powerful warrior!"
Garen fell silent for a moment before nodding. Anyone capable of killing multiple town guards would certainly not be an ordinary individual.
"Now the entire Rona Street is filled with anxiety, and this is under the adults' efforts to keep the news contained... But this is not a long-term solution; it won't be long before the news spreads. This will not only severely damage the adults' reputation but also plunge the town into fear..."
"The killer only acts at night?" Garen asked.
"Yes, that's correct!"
According to the guard's description, the killer is likely a small-framed man, or perhaps even a woman. During the search, no footprints were found in the victim's home, indicating that the killer must be very light.
Or perhaps they are just very meticulous.
Garen pondered for a moment, deciding not to pursue this line of thought. Since the murders on Rona Street had escalated, no one had seen the true face of the killer; such information would only mislead his thinking.
"Aside from the missing guard, all the victims were women..." Garen focused on the crux of the matter.
These deceased women all had traces of a unique fluid within their bodies, suggesting they had experienced climax before death. However, since the searchers found no signs of any men, they ruled out that possibility.
Garen stroked his chin. If he were to consider someone particularly fascinated by women and possessing exceptional skills, there was indeed one candidate: Volikov.
Of course, Volikov had been dead for some time.
The night on Rona Street was eerily quiet, especially after several murders had occurred. Every household had extinguished their lights, and not a single soul could be seen on the wide street.
Garen wandered along the street. Moments ago, he had visited the residence of one of the victims but found no discernible pattern. This indicated that the killer acted at will, so Garen saw no need to wait idly for an opportunity.
As Garen's footsteps echoed in the silence, he could hear tense breaths coming from both sides of the houses; fear enveloped the entire street.
"Nothing has happened yet..."
Two hours passed, and Garen sat down on a staircase.
With his abilities, he could sense fluctuations in energy over a large area; any sign of Fighting Spirit would be detected by him immediately. However, as he walked along, he noticed nothing unusual.
Yet Garen was not disappointed; after all, capturing the killer was secondary—the primary goal was to ensure that no one else would be harmed.
At that moment, a cold breeze seeped through the crack of the door behind him.
Garen instinctively shifted to the side, but just as he stood up, he suddenly realized something!
To investigate various anomalies, Garen had kept his Fighting Spirit in an active state from the very beginning. In this state, how could he possibly feel cold?!
Could it be...
"Bang!"
Garen kicked the wooden door open, and was immediately met with a shocking sight!
In the dimly lit room, a pale figure was moving about, seemingly searching for something!
As Garen charged forward, the person abruptly turned around, revealing a familiar face!
Garen's pupils trembled violently...
It was Baisaro?!
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