Number 17, Coflin Street.
In a dark room, a green-haired man bent low, rummaging through the shelves until his hand closed around a small pot. He placed it carefully on the table before him.
Without hesitation, he grabbed a Bunsen burner and lit it. The flames leapt eagerly, licking the edges of the table. A few sparks nearly brushed Carl—Mr. Plunderer—but he leapt back just in time, his heart racing.
Carl was making a potion… a potion that would finally transform him into a sorcerer. Previously, he had lacked the necessary ingredients, but now, with the black nightshade berries in hand, the concoction was complete.
He poured water into the pot, then retrieved a worn piece of paper. Scrawled across it was a single word: Ravanger.
The information hadn't come cheap. Carl had spent a fortune on the black market to acquire it… but now, everything was ready.
...
Carl carefully laid out the ingredients: black nightshade berries, wolfsbane, raven feathers, dried mandrake, a black root, and six teaspoons of grave dirt.
He picked up a spoon and began measuring the grave dirt. One… two… three… four… five… six.
Each grey teaspoon sizzled as it hit the bubbling mixture, instantly changing color as osmosis took hold. Carl exhaled, wiping his forehead. This should be enough… phew. I wish I had someone helping me, he muttered under his breath.
He tucked the black bag of remaining dirt to his right, then glanced down at the worn piece of paper for guidance. Carefully, he picked up the black nightshade berries.
"Four nightshade berries," he whispered, handling each one like it was made of glass. They were expensive, after all. He placed them into the mixture, and immediately the potion began to bubble, releasing thick black smoke that curled into the air.
With a swift flourish, he added the raven feathers. Instantly, the bubbling intensified, black vapor spiraling upward as though alive. Carl's eyes gleamed with anticipation—he was one step closer to becoming a sorcerer!
...
Carl reached to his right and pulled out a small bag containing the dried mandrake. Carefully, he turned it upside down over the pot—without touching it with his hands.
At that moment, cold whisper brushed against his ear.
He paused for a moment. Ah… Mr. Revenger wasn't kidding, he thought. Brewing this potion meant facing the whispers.
Hakli… hakli… hakli…
The voices echoed in his head, persistent and stronger than the last. Carl clenched his jaw, forcing himself to remain calm, and took a slow, steadying breath.
He glanced back at the pot. The black root had already melted, absorbed into the bubbling liquid. This potion must really be acidic… he muttered under his breath.
Quickly, he added the black root and then the wolfsbane.
The moment the last ingredient hit the mixture, the cauldron erupted violently.
Boom!
A spray of dark, thick liquid splattered across Carl's face and arms, coating the floor.
Simultaneously, the whispers surged deeper into his mind, louder, pressing against his thoughts like invisible hands.
Carl's heart raced, but he forced himself to focus on the pot, gripping the edge of the table as the black smoke swirled upward.
...
Hakli… hakli… hakli…
The whispers grew louder, sharper, tearing Carl's mind as he removed his hands from the table, placing them on his head. His heart pounded like a drum, and visions of himself acting wildly, uncontrollably mad, flashed before his eyes.
Desperate, he grabbed a cup from his right, scooped up the potion, and poured it into his mouth.
"Hah!"
The world around him became blurry and distorted, as though his sight has been temporary taken!
Carl collapsed to the floor, his body convulsing as red wisps of smoke leaked from him, drifting upward like a crimson hot aura. The transformation was terrifying—and yet exhilarating.
This was the Ravanger potion!
For what felt like an eternity, Carl teetered on the edge of life and death, fighting his own body and mind. Slowly, the chaotic visions began to fade, the whispers disseapeared, and after ten agonizing minutes, he finally regained control.
He lay there, chest heaving, sweat dripping down his face, and let out a long, shuddering sigh of relief.
He had survived, and had reached the first phase of the Ravanger Order—Madman, Phase nine!
...
Carl quickly stood and opened the window, letting the cool night breeze wash over him, the pale moonlight casting a silver glow across his room. He walked to the bathroom and stared at his reflection. Nothing had changed—still green hair, the faint trace of a beard. He nodded slowly, accepting what had happened.
Heading to the kitchen where he had brewed the potion, Carl grabbed a knife, mustering all his courage. With a deep breath, he drove it into his chest.
"Ah…" A sharp pain shot through him—but almost instantly, it vanished. Looking down, he saw nothing: the knife had bent on the floor as if it had been made of rubber.
A small, triumphant smile spread across his face.
He took a step… and almost instantly, he reappeared near his fridge. The rush of energy passing through him, made his blood bubble.
Instinctively, he punched the fridge, and the door went flying across the room, splintering against the wall.
Carl chuckled softly, this was as a result of the madness, bubbling in him. The potion was doing it's work rather well. He could feel his mind sharper, and chaotic at the same time. He could also feel his body lighter, but yet at the edge of unreason.
This chaotic reasoning was what the Ravanger really needed to master.
To stay calm at always!
He forced himself to calm down, grabbing the sink and splashing cold water on his face. Finally, he staggered toward his bedroom, collapsing onto the bed.
As his eyelids grew heavier, he sighed once more, and surrendered himself to "Lady sleep."
...
Lamenti, Moonlight Watchers Faculty.
It was early morning, and the crimson sun had already risen into the sky.
Lumian patrolled the faculty grounds lazily, checking on the work of several unofficial members. After a while, the routine began to bore him.
With a quiet sigh, he stepped outside.
The fresh morning air greeted him immediately. Students from the nearby school walked along the street, chatting among themselves as they passed the faculty building. Lumian leaned casually against a nearby tree, watching them for a moment as the wind brushed across the green grass.
His thoughts soon drifted back to the interrogation yesterday.
So the spy didn't have St. Mary's Text… and he wasn't part of the group that has it either.
Lumian frowned slightly.
But the divination said he was a member of the Obstaque Order.
He lowered his gaze and began absentmindedly drawing strange shapes in the soil with a small stick.
That probably means the St. Mary Text is currently with the Witches Garden…
He paused, thinking deeper, and analyzing the situation.
But the Obstaque Order also wants it.
Lumian tilted his head slightly, a faint smile forming on his face.
So what exactly is written inside St. Mary's Text…?
After a moment of quiet contemplation, Lumian brushed the dirt from his hands and pushed himself away from the tree.
The answer wouldn't appear by simply standing around.
Turning back toward the building, he walked inside the faculty and headed straight for the alchemy room.
...
Stepping into the alchemy room, Lumian looked around briefly. The shelves of ingredients and glass containers were neatly arranged, but Derrick was nowhere to be seen.
Lumian clicked his tongue softly before turning around and leaving the room.
He walked down the stairs and entered the waiting area. The place was unusually quiet, with only the soft humming of the ceiling fan spinning lazily above.
Behind the counter, Lury had fallen asleep, her head resting gently on her folded arms.
Lumian glanced at her for a moment but decided not to wake her.
Instead, he walked back upstairs and turned to the right corridor. As he passed by, he moved by several offices belonging to the official members—Rosanne, Vincent, Berlie, and the others.
But Derrick's office door remained closed.
Lumian frowned slightly. Where did that nonchalant man go?
He was about to head back downstairs when he suddenly noticed something.
From the partition near the left staircase, Derrick casually stepped out and walked into the alchemy room, holding a steaming cup of coffee in his hand as though he had just returned from somewhere.
Lumian stopped in place.
So what was the point of running around? he joked inwardly.
...
Lumian saw Derrick close the door and immediately walked forward, opening it softly.
"Good morning, Mr. Derrick. Where were—"
"Shhh!"
Before Lumian could finish speaking, Derrick quickly placed a finger over his lips, signaling him to keep quiet.
He leaned closer and whispered with a mischievous grin. "I'm borrowing some of the captain's black coffee. I don't want him to know, hehe."
Derrick gently handed the cup to Lumian.
"Here, hold this for me," he said with a chuckle. "Let me go steal some sugar as well. Heh heh."
Before Lumian could respond, Derrick slipped out of the room again, moving suspiciously down the corridor.
Lumian stood there holding the cup of coffee, as his face slowly took a disappointed look. So this is what the non chalant Mr. Derrick is doing?
...
After a few moments, Derrick returned with a small bag of sugar. He quickly took the cup of coffee back from Lumian and poured a generous amount inside before stirring it lazily.
With a satisfied sigh, he grabbed a spoon and took a sip, smacking his lips lightly. Then he leaned back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other.
Looking at Lumian with one eye half-closed, he asked casually, "So… what are you looking for this time?"
Lumian smiled awkwardly and rubbed the back of his head.
"Derrick, you know you're the only one here who truly understands mysticism. I actually wanted to ask you something about the St. Mary Text. A lot of organizations keep mentioning it."
Derrick raised an eyebrow and slowly lowered his cup. "The St. Mary Text? Don't you already know about the Book of Testament and the Book of Wisdom?"
Lumian pulled a chair closer and sat down across from him.
"I do," he replied. "But I'm curious about something else."
He leaned forward slightly. "Why was the Book of Revelation the one that got stolen? What exactly does it contain?"
Derrick looked at him with a puzzled expression before shrugging. "What do you want me to say? No one truly understands that book. Most of its contents are fragmented. Scholars have only managed to interpret small pieces of it."
Lumian sighed quietly. After a moment of silence, he asked another question. "But Derrick… who exactly was St. Mary?"
...
Derrick looked at Lumian for a moment before speaking. "If I'm going to explain that," he said slowly, "then we'll have to go far back into the past."
Lumian leaned slightly forward in his chair, curiosity clear on his face.
Derrick took a deep breath before continuing. "It takes us back to the era after the Creator fused with the world. More specifically, in the Age of Divine Intervention. That was the time when the Crimson Sun rose once more, and the gods protected the world from a terrible cataclysm."
He paused briefly. "After that event, the God of Beginnings ruled over the world. Mysticism already existed at the time, but humans didn't yet know how to use it properly."
Lumian listened quietly.
"Then, during the Steampunk Age, there was a young girl named Mary. She was a devoted believer in Skywalker."
Derrick folded his arms. "Along the way, she began receiving strange visions. Those visions helped her understand many hidden truths of the world."
"And through those visions, she wrote three books."
Lumian nodded slightly as Derrick continued. "The first was the Book of Testament. It contained records of early human history, the creation myth, early divine history, and the origin of the world."
"It also mentioned ancient beings such as Skywalker, the Primordial Lord of Chaos, the Creator, and the God of Beginnings."
Lumian absorbed the information quietly.
Derrick continued, "Later, Mary began gathering followers. Through mysticism she performed what people believed to be miracles, and eventually she established a religious organization."
"At the time, the church was called the Crimson Choir."
"The Crimson Choir…" Lumian repeated softly.
He knew the name already existed within the church faculty, and he knew it had something to do with Mary, but he had never realized it was the original name of the entire church.
Derrick smiled faintly. "After her ministry began to grow, she wrote her second book."
"This one focused on mysticism. It described supernatural beings, philosophical teachings, and explained many mysterious concepts of the world."
"That book later became known as the Book of Wisdom."
...
Lumian leaned forward, eyes bright with curiosity. "What about the Book of Revelation?" he asked eagerly.
Derrick chuckled, lifting his coffee—well, his "stolen coffee"—and took a casual sip before letting the spoon drop and smacking his tongue with a satisfied flick.
"After her ministry grew strong," Derrick began, "there was a war against the Red Moon Empire and the Blue Moon Dynasty. Angels, gods, and powerful human entities were all involved. To protect her people, St. Mary performed ancient rituals and received higher visions, gaining even more profound knowledge of mysticism."
He paused for a moment, letting Lumian take in the information well. "After the war… she began acting strangely. Madness crept into her mind, and in her madness, she wrote the Book of Revelation."
Lumian's eyes widened slightly.
Derrick continued, voice low and smooth. "Later, she met a man named Abel. She spent some time with him, though she referred to him as Chaos—unpredictable, and uncontrollable."
"The war ended, the Yellow Sun returned, and the Crimson Sun faded. After that, St. Mary vanished. Her remaining followers spread her teachings, forming what would become the Church of Skywalker."
He leaned back slightly, gesturing with one hand. "The church divided itself into faculties: the Moonlight Watchers, the Crimson Choir, and the Celestial Brigade. Each inherited one of her texts."
"The Moonlight Watchers took the Book of Revelation, the Crimson Choir held the Book of Wisdom, and the Celestial Brigade preserved the Book of Testament. The church were in hiding, until six years later, the crimson sun rose once more, and Mystictism had returned."
...
Lumian rubbed his chin, thinking inwardly.
So the Book of Revelation is practically unreadable… but how did Lacey manage to read it back then?
He paused for a moment, letting the thought settle, then continued mentally.
And if what Mrs. Hathway said is true—that humans gained powers, by performing rituals and learning about Mysticism—then humans wouldn't even know about Mysticism if it weren't for St. Mary. That means… humans performed rituals, discovered potion recipes, and formed Orders, using the idea St. Mary left with them!
Before he could continue his inward reasoning, Derrick spoke up, interrupting his train of thought.
"However," Derrick said, a faint smile tugging at his lips, "during my time with the Book of Revelation, I actually managed to read one chapter. It described something very important. Hehe…"
He paused, letting the words hang in the air.
"…Though, I have to admit, after reading it, I felt like I was running mad."
...
"What is it, Derrick?" Lumian asked, unable to hide the curiosity on his face.
Derrick chuckled softly and stood up. Walking over to a nearby drawer beside Lumian, he pulled it open and took out a small sheet of paper.
He placed it on the table. On the paper were only a few simple words:
Almighty God…
A Hidden Celestial…
Church of the Almighty God.
...
Lumian frowned and looked up at Derrick with confusion. He couldn't quite understand why Derrick had suddenly handed him such a strange note.
Before he could complain, Derrick returned to his seat and spoke.
"This," he said calmly, "is what I learned from that chapter."
Lumian glanced at the paper again before asking, "But Derrick… how did you read it? I thought the words in the Book of Revelation weren't understandable."
Derrick chuckled again. "They aren't, normally. But I'm a Mystery Pryer. And the truth is… it wasn't that St. Mary had gone mad while writing it."
He leaned back slightly. "It was more like she wrote about too many things beyond human understanding."
"I studied the Book of Testament beforehand, so I was able to interpret a few fragments. Still, I only managed to understand one chapter."
Lumian nodded slowly and waved the paper in his hand. "So what exactly does this information mean?"
Derrick took the paper back and replied, "This comes from Chapter 32, verses 1–8."
"It describes a Hidden Celestial that once existed in the world—one who ruled alongside the Primary Celestials."
He paused briefly before continuing. "St. Mary predicted that one day, people would begin serving this being as the Creator."
Lumian blinked in surprise. "Wait… people are actually worshipping this Celestial as the Creator?"
Derrick nodded. "Yes. Haven't you heard of the Church of the Almighty God?"
He folded the paper slowly. "This Celestial represents Order. According to the text, whenever someone performs a ritual that it considers dangerous or forbidden…"
Derrick's voice lowered slightly. "…it simply kills the person."
...
Lumian wanted to ask more questions, but at that moment the familiar ringing of his phone suddenly echoed through the room.
He stood up and pulled the device from his pocket, glancing at the caller ID.
The caller was none other than Lady Patricia, Lacey's mother.
Lumian and Hargreaves had left their numbers with her during their last visit.
For a brief moment, he hesitated, wondering whether to answer. But after a second of thought, he decided it might be important and quickly accepted the call.
A worried female voice immediately came through the phone. "Hello… is this the man who visited my house last time?"
Lumian's mouth twitched slightly.
Why are you asking? Didn't you check the number before dialing? he thought Inwardly.
Outwardly, however, he replied politely, "Yes, Lady Patricia. What seems to be the problem?"
"It's Joshua," she said anxiously. "He hasn't left his room for weeks now."
"Weeks?" Lumian repeated softly. A bad feeling began to form in his mind.
"I'll be right there," he said before ending the call.
Lumian waved briefly to Derrick before heading straight toward Hargreaves' office, quickly explaining what had happened.
After hearing the situation, Captain Hargreaves immediately called Vincent as well.
Within minutes, the three of them were already inside the Ward family car, driving quickly toward Duke's house.
...
After two minutes, the car arrived at the duke's mansion.
The trio stepped out quickly, barely sparing a glance at the luxurious surroundings before heading straight toward the entrance.
Hargreaves knocked softly.
Knock! Knock! Knock!
After a moment, the door opened.
Lady Patricia stood there in a simple white dress. Her face looked pale and worried as she stepped aside, allowing them to enter.
"Where is he?" Hargreaves asked, briefly scanning the surroundings.
"Upstairs… to the right," Patricia replied quietly.
Without wasting another second, the three men walked forward and climbed the stairs, as Patricia followed close behind. Soon they stopped in front of a closed door.
Hargreaves stepped forward and knocked.
Knock. Knock.
They waited. One minute passed, then two. Unfortunately, there was no answer.
In the next instant, Hargreaves suddenly stepped back and punched the door open.
The door swung inward with a loud crack.
Inside the room, Duke Joshua sat motionless in a chair with his back turned toward them. A faint crimson glow from the window cast long shadows across his body.
Hargreaves removed his hat and slowly approached.
"Duke Joshua."
He reached out and tapped the man lightly on the shoulder.
There was no response. He tapped again, yet still nothing.
Hargreaves gently turned the chair slightly to face him.
The moment the man's face came into view, Lumian had a terrible headache.
Joshua's skin had completely rotted away. His eyes had sunk deep into their sockets, while maggots crawled in and out of the decaying flesh. Flies buzzed loudly around his head as swollen veins bulged beneath the grey, decomposing skin.