Upon hearing the Priest's words, Damon smiled. He then grabbed Henry by the arm and retreated towards the entrance.
"Hey! Can we at least change our clothes first?" Henry whined.
"We don't have any time for that."Damon curtly replied. Their garbs were still soaked from the skirmish in the domain. They could only pray that, as specters, they would not catch a cold later.
Not long after, the carriage sped through the streets as mundane children prepared for bed and adults embraced the joyous call of night. A gust of wind was stirred in its wake, leaving Sanguine Street, fluttering the garments of men and women alike as crystal street lanterns blurred past in streaks of amber.
Yet, unperturbed, the hooded coachmen looked ahead.
Two minutes swiftly ticked by as the red-eyed raven led the way, and he skillfully commanded the reins with the barrings of a reaper eager for harvest.
Surprising both brothers, the carriage maintained a high speed without stopping until the road began to widen and a massive stone bridge came into view ahead.
"How much further is it?"Henry inquired as he saw it.
"I think we travelled a kilometer.."Damon kept his gaze fixed outward as he spoke, quietly tracking their progress. The estimate came naturally as he observed the intervals between intersections and the array of stone-and-wood buildings.
Many were already adorned with triple-colored banners of red, white, and green, paired with skull ornaments, for the upcoming festival.
Still, as they crossed the bridge, those structures were soon replaced by a huge property comparable to the orphanage's landscape.
Suddenly, the carriage came to a halt as they spotted another sitting idly on the roadside.
"Think this will be over once we arrest Josephine?" Henry felt anxious as he stared at the scene.
Damon keenly caught onto this uneasy and said, "I'd assume so as long as Kruger confirms Constantine is actually dead."
In theory, this matter should have been straightforward, but by definition, it was always possible for something to go wrong. But then again, it would be a waste of mental capacity to ponder all those possibilities
With that in mind, Damon stood up and said to Henry, "Let's get this done."
The Franz estate stood as a partially walled mansion complex situated on a gentle slope. Its main brick structure had a clay tiled roof and was flanked by several connected wings and smaller buildings. Each one was decorated with glass lanterns, casting amber light from a height twice that of an adult male's, illuminating the shadows beneath every window and tree.
Near the outer stone wall, the road was a reddish layer of crushed stone for three carriages to approach the yard at once. The cross-tipped metal gate was divided into two sections and provided a smooth route for guests entering or departing.
With the addition of its rune work, one would believe it should have barred unpermitted entry.
Yet a section lay dented before them. It loosely hung from the hinges as though a powerful battering ram had forced its way through without restraint.
Given the state of the gate, it didn't take much imagination to understand what had transpired.
Damon peered around as they moved closer. His eyes swept across the exterior walls again, quickly discerning the shape of a damaged dial embedded near the entrance.
'It is a communication device like the one used at Mr. Junnan's place.…'His gaze lingered for a brief moment. Although the faint shimmer of residual energy clinging to its surface made its purpose apparent, the spiritual energy left a peculiar feeling he couldn't quite describe.
"Did she have to break it..!? We could have pawned it for quick money before we went home!" Henry couldn't help but air his grievances seeing such a vintage gadget destroyed.
Damon donned a blank expression when he heard Henry. For a moment, he clenched his fist, resisting the urge to smack his brother as they stepped inside.
'Is money that important to you..!? It's not like we're poor!' Damon scolded inwardly. Had he not been certain Henry would have beaten him at this moment, he would have discarded all restraint.
["Give him some grace boya. Most specters require excessive funds to fuel their ambitions, no matter the cause. "]
As he heard that amused voice, Damon shifted focus and asked, 'Is it that important? I thought most specters could get what they wanted from conflict.'
If Kruger or Lorelei heard him, he would have been labeled as a dangerous barbarian and potentially killed for this line of thinking. However, more than anything else, Damon felt this perspective was the culmination of what he had seen.
His encounter in the trial had not only granted him his abilities and the twenty Lithos crystals but also three weapons, one of which he had yet to have appraised. The same also rang true for their earlier battle as he spotted Vincent pilfering the mutated Cecil's bow and later pocketing Zaheer's core.
["Some resources remain unattainable even through combat as strong-willed Specters would rather shatter their core and belongings themselves before letting it fall into their killers' hands. To truly thrive, one must weave their way through the world of specters, forming bonds and bargaining for the sake of profit."]
While Tomoe said this, her insincere tone implied she didn't quite believe what she was prescribing, and Damon could not help but ask, "Is it really not enough to search for challenges?"
["The long-term benefit of such conduct far outweighs the risks of any paid in blood."] She replied. Her voice then ominously faded away as quickly as she had come.
Damon didn't find this strange since he was already accustomed to his master's dramatic antics. He shifted attention outward as he and Henry strode past a stone fountain at the center of the yard and approached the open manor doors.
Beyond stood a grand hall with polished floors and a high ceiling. A curved balcony extended from the second floor, overlooking the entrance hall like a theater box. On both sides of the room, curved staircases flanked the center, leading upward in mirrored arcs that framed the space with deliberate symmetry.
"This place is too big to search with just our eyes," Damon said with a frown, studying the room's layout. "Henry, use your Mystic Sense and check for any intent nearby."
"I can't cover all of this," Henry turned to face another direction and said, "My range is only about twelve meters."
"Eh?…Huh?!" Damon needed a moment to process what he heard, but he quickly let out a sigh of disappointment. He then nudged Henry's shoulder and stroked his chin thoughtfully
"I was sure you'd be the same as me since we have the same amount of spiritual energy at our peaks…mine is actually arou—"
"Well, I didn't ask, okay?!" Henry blurted as he glanced back at Damon. Turning sharply, he stormed up the left staircase as Damon followed, stifling his laughter.
"Wait..I was... pssh. joking.."
Suddenly, his eyes narrowed as a disturbance brushed against his spiritual perception. A familiar cold that sent shivers down spines and halted thoughts.
The same one his own body had already embraced!
'The floor above is filled with Death affinity..And lost of it, Damon felt this wasn't a good sign, but there was no point stopping their advance now.
Reaching the Second floor, they both immediately froze, greeted by an odd sight.
On the floor, sprawled in poses that looked almost peaceful, were bodies. Men and women alike, face down, limbs splayed as if they'd simply lain down and never risen.
Damon counted five from where he stood. Then another and more, stretching further down the quiet hall. "It's almost suffocating.." He muttered.
"What happened here?" Henry took deep breaths as he struggled to remain calm. Subconsciously, he reached for the nearest body to turn it over. His mind desperately sought to rid itself of dread building from pondering the unknown.
"Don't touch it."Damon swiftly caught his wrist before he could make contact. Immediately after, he moved ahead, extending his right leg instead. He then hooked his foot beneath the body's shoulder and rolled it onto its back.
The moment the face came into view, both brothers felt something tighten in their chests.
The body was male.
But the face was not his own.
It was hers, the very murderer they had been looking for.
Josephine Franz's features stared back at them with a grotesque, frozen smile stretched across unfamiliar flesh. Their eyes had been replaced by large red buttons crudely stitched into place, the thread pulling tight against torn skin. The mouth hung open with a creepy smile as if they had been forced to cackle for an unseen actor till their final breath.