Mystery: The Silver Key

Chapter 68: The Stalker

In the East District, in a separate room that resembled a converted lecture hall, the gathering convened by the "Eye of Wisdom" had already begun.

As the last person to enter and also late, he received everyone's attention.

The old gentleman, with his "eye of wisdom," calmly offered this reminder:

"Find a seat and don't be late next time."

"Yes." Sirien nodded slightly, adding, "We encountered some difficulties on the way."

Sitting near the curtains, a plump person, bundled up tightly, suddenly exclaimed:

"Turbulence? You wouldn't happen to be that unlucky guy who got attacked by spirit creatures on the street before, would you?"

Cyril glanced at the man, who was wrapped up so tightly that no useful information could be gleaned from him. But judging from his tone, he seemed to be secretly relieved that the man might have been nearby, or even on that public carriage.

He paused, then shook his head slightly and said, "That was pretty unlucky, but I didn't encounter a spirit creature, but a witch."

He didn't want to reveal his identity, since he hadn't disguised himself at all on the public carriage. If someone had been nearby and was investigating, his true identity could easily have been exposed.

"A witch? What's that?" The person who had spoken earlier asked, somewhat surprised.

The elderly gentleman with the "Eye of Wisdom" sitting at the very front also turned his head to look at him with some surprise, and then reminded him:

"Witches are always associated with disaster, so it's best to be careful when you come into contact with them, especially their strange and unpredictable black magic."

"They are very skilled at cursing, so it's best not to leave behind your blood, hair, or anything else that could be used as a medium for casting spells."

"I know, thank you for reminding me." After sitting down, Sirien nodded slightly to the old man with the "Eye of Wisdom" at the front.

He suspected that the other party might have suffered a loss in front of the witch, and his reminder just now was mixed with apprehension.

After a brief interruption, the party continued.

Then Cyril heard a somewhat familiar voice: "Acquire magical items with divination and tracking abilities."

He glanced at the man; the figure beneath the gray robe was somewhat swollen, but it didn't look like excess flesh. It was more like foam was stuffed inside the clothes. There were signs of spiritual energy dissipating from him, and a sense of chaos. He seemed to have been injured and hadn't fully recovered.

Soon someone in the room struck up a conversation, but it wasn't about making a deal:

"Black Wolf, you haven't given up yet? So much time has passed. Maybe the person you're looking for has already left Backlund."

"Rather than divination and tracking, I think you need a healing potion right now. Do you want some? I still have some in stock, and I can give you a discount."

The black wolf, who had been asking to buy magical items with divination and tracking effects, turned around and glared fiercely at the person who had just spoken, gritting his teeth as he said:

"No need, I'm fine."

"Tch~" The person who spoke up curled their lip, but did not continue the topic.

Cyril watched this scene thoughtfully... This black wolf might be related to the Black Wolf Society in the Backlund Bridge area. Could it be that he's buying divination and tracking magical items to find me?

Then he's destined to be disappointed; ordinary divination and tracking simply won't find me.

He then glanced at the person who had just been trying to sell his potion to Black Wolf... Judging from his figure, it should be that outspoken, chubby pharmacist.

Before long, he heard the other party's statement about acquiring the marrow crystals of the Fairy Spring, thus confirming the other party's identity.

At this gathering, the fat pharmacist still couldn't buy the materials he needed, because the existence of vampires made it difficult for extraordinary materials to circulate through this route.

Soon it was Cyril's turn, and unexpectedly, all the extraordinary materials he brought, including the holy silver bullets he converted with the "Peacekeeper," were sold, earning him a total of 1500 pounds in cash.

He even received an order for the Holy Silver Bullets, in particular.

He reached out and pressed the gun holster hanging on his waist, seemingly having found a decent way to make money.

...

When the party ended, perhaps because he had a lot of cash on him after completing the transaction, the old man "Eye of Wisdom" arranged for Sirion to be among the first to leave.

As soon as he stepped back onto the street, Cyril felt a subtle gaze from behind him.

He glanced back, but saw nothing.

"Are they targeting me?" He reached for the gun holster at his waist, his tone somewhat hesitant.

He remembered Arrodes's warning... perhaps not only should he use the gun less in battle, but he should also minimize the time he carries it with him, otherwise accidents and conflicts would always break out around him for various reasons.

While he was thinking, he boarded a horse-drawn carriage parked on the side of the street.

Shortly after the coachman drove the carriage away, two figures emerged from the shadows at the corner of the alleyway.

They gazed in the direction the carriage had gone, exchanged a glance, and then went their separate ways.

.....

On a quiet road along the Tasok River near the docks in the eastern district, a horse-drawn carriage slowly made its way.

Beneath the carriage, the shadow appeared exceptionally heavy and dense; upon closer inspection, one could almost see an unknown creature writhing and twisting within it.

Ta-da!

Amidst the sound of horses' hooves pounding on the concrete, several ethereal yet inexplicably solid black tentacles emerged from the shadows, easily piercing through the wooden planks beneath the carriage.

The black tentacles quickly retracted, and a puzzled voice came from the writhing shadows:

"Huh? Why is nobody here?"

Are you looking for me?

Cyril appeared silently outside the carriage, a slight smile playing on his lips, as he looked down at the heavy shadow below.

The writhing shadow beneath the carriage froze for a moment, then suddenly swelled, transforming into black fangs, claws, and tentacles that lunged at him.

Snapped!

A blinding flash appeared, accompanied by a crisp snap of fingers, and the dazzling light dispelled all the surrounding shadows and darkness.

"what!"

Bang! Bang! Bang....

Gunshots rang out continuously, and just two seconds later, Cyril emptied the Peacekeeper's magazine.

Bullets trailing silver flames collided with each other in the air, then exploded, turning into fragments of light like the dawn.

They were densely packed and countless, forming a shimmering and violent hurricane that swept outwards in all directions.

Wherever the silver light touched, all shadows and evil spirits within the area were shattered into pieces.

The silver storm lasted for two or three seconds before dissipating without a trace, leaving behind only a densely packed cement ground that looked as if it had been slashed by a knife, and a patch of bright red human-shaped marks spread across the ground.

Above the bright red humanoid mark, specks of black fluorescence are seeping out, gradually gathering into a fist-sized gray-black shadow.

Sirion's eyes widened slightly. He knew that the "Peacekeeper's" holy silver bullets were effective against the power of darkness, shadows, and the corrupted realm, but he didn't expect them to be so effective.

A lurking in the shadows, at least a Sequence 7 Extraordinary, died without offering any effective resistance in the weakened version of "Dawn Storm" formed by the bullet storm.

Even though he launched a surprise attack and cleared the surrounding shadows beforehand using the "Flash" trick, the damage that the "Peacekeeper" just unleashed was still astonishing.

"It's just that these side effects are a bit annoying."

Cyril looked down at his right hand holding the gun; the bright silver barrel of the gun was now stained with a layer of crimson.

This was his blood. The bullet storm unleashed all the bullets in a short time, and the recoil of the gun exceeded the limit that his palm could withstand, tearing the flesh between his thumb and forefinger and the palm.

Feeling the waves of pain shooting through his right hand, he reasonably suspected that the recoil from the bullet storm would require at least a Sequence 7 or a Sequence 9 with an enhanced body to withstand.

Enduring the pain, he put the "Peacekeeper" back into its holster. He glanced back at the corner of the road behind him. The two clusters of spiritual light that he could see just moments before had vanished. Clearly, the followers behind him had chosen to leave after noticing the commotion.

"He ran pretty fast. If he had been any faster..."