Chapter 157: Astonishing Information

Oh, I have caught the virus. I discovered it this morning when my father asked me to take a test. I had hoped to make it to the finals, but I was struck down after all. I must have caught it two days ago, as I felt like I had a cold then, though I didn't suspect the virus. Looking back, those symptoms were likely the infection, just very mild. I am one of those "asymptomatic" cases: a stuffy nose, a cough, a desire to sleep, and a slight fever—that is all. It is relative, of course; it is still somewhat uncomfortable. Updates over the next two days might be a bit shorter (no less than four thousand words), but I will make up for it quickly once I recover.

"Rustle..." Gilbert’s armored fingers trembled slightly. The metal gauntlets scraped against the ground, emitting a faint sound. His eyelids felt heavy as lead; he struggled to twitch them, yet he could not force them open.

His mind was a chaotic void. Gilbert felt his consciousness drifting, though strangely, there was no overwhelming sense of pain.

As he slowly roused from the stupor brought on by the psychic corruption, his first reaction was terror. His lingering memories were of failing to push the Destroyer Golem off the cliff, and in the final moments, his last shred of sanity being swallowed by that horrific mental blight.

He instinctively scanned his memories, searching for missing fragments. Since he could still think, the "Anchor of the Sky's Gloom" had not reduced him to an imbecile, but an attack on the soul could easily have stripped away precious, irreplaceable memories.

As his consciousness cleared from the haze, he swept through the decades of his life and found no abrupt gaps. Was he truly so fortunate to have escaped the psychic assault without lasting damage?

Control over his body began to return, and the pervasive weakness within him slowly dissipated as his command over his limbs strengthened. He rolled his eyes beneath his lids and managed to force a tiny sliver of light to penetrate his heavy gaze.

Even in the darkness, the external scene entered the eyes of this devout follower of the Lady of the Night. Before him lay the ground beyond the cliff, and closest to him remained the wreckage of the Destroyer Golem, its alchemical core pierced and imploded.

"Clack..." He tried to move something other than his eyelids, but his body refused to obey. His arm twitched slightly, the fabric of his clothes rustling, but nothing more. Gilbert struggled to move; he still did not understand the situation. The vigilance and experience he had cultivated as a Blade of the Night urged him to assess his surroundings immediately.

There was no movement nearby. What of his teammates? Had the sudden eruption of psychic corruption been detected by the outpost? Was the support team arriving? These were the things he needed to know.

"Tap, tap, tap..." A light, rhythmic sound of footsteps suddenly reached Gilbert’s ears. He froze. Someone had arrived—and judging by the sound, there were several. Could it be reinforcements?

Then, he realized something was wrong. If this were support from the Blades of the Night, they would have confirmed their status through various means upon approach. At the very least, they would be shouting to check if he or his fallen comrades were still conscious, racing against time to provide aid. But now...

His clearing mind regained the battlefield wisdom honed through years of walking the line between life and death. Linking this to the suspicious appearance of the Destroyer Golem and the inexplicable psychic corruption within it, Gilbert realized another, darker possibility.

He stopped trying to make noticeable movements and instead focused his hearing on the newcomers while straining to feel every muscle he could control, slowly regaining the ability to move his limbs with minute, subtle shifts.

The unhurried footsteps drew closer. Gilbert felt a surge of tension; if these people meant to harm him, he had no strength to resist.

He could only hope they would leave him be, or that he could regain control of his body before they struck.

"As expected, the psychic corruption released after the destruction of its containment vessel was enough to overwhelm these Blades of the Night. They must have all triggered the Anchor of the Sky's Gloom; their souls are shattered."

"Indeed. The residual waves of that corruption were enough to make me feel instinctive fear even from the outside. It is not hard to imagine the despair these Blades must have felt at close range. It seems this Destroyer Golem truly functions as a vessel, and its structure is sound. But why did the psychic corruption vanish..."

Multiple voices reached Gilbert. These people, having observed the terrifying eruption of mental blight, assumed the Blades of the Night had all lost their minds and could not possibly be conscious, so they spoke freely.

Gilbert’s thoughts raced. They were right, in a way. He did not know why he hadn't been destroyed by the corruption—he certainly shouldn't have regained consciousness so quickly.

The footsteps stopped beside him. Someone walked over, and the sound of the Destroyer Golem being nudged echoed; they were inspecting the wreckage.

"The core is destroyed, but that proves the point. Whether it is biological or not, it can naturally occupy a shell. Though this was just a test, the corpse prepared for it should be suitable. We can conduct further tests later."

The voice spoke from very close by. The man had crouched down to inspect the golem, bringing his voice right to Gilbert’s ear.

"The results are satisfactory; the Royal Court will be pleased. What about these Blades of the Night? Should we kill them all?" Another voice responded from nearby, asking how to handle the members who had supposedly suffered mental collapse.

The sudden display of murderous intent tightened Gilbert’s chest. The words jolted his spirit, helping him regain more control over his body. He clenched his fists; he would not sit and wait for death. If he were to die, he would take a few of them with him.

"No, the priority isn't suicide—it's how to relay this information to the other Blades!"

In this tense moment, Gilbert realized the truth. The information these people possessed was too vital; he had to pass it on to the others, to Captain Shugin and the rest.

But if they attacked now, he had no way to survive. How could he transmit the message? Wait—there might be a way. His prayer to the Lady of the Night before he lost consciousness had failed, but now, with his mind clear, he could try again...

"Great Lady of the Night, please hear my plea. I beg you, in your mercy, to convey the words I hear to my companions."

He held little hope. He had not worshipped the Lady for long, and even if she were a merciful and generous goddess, it was unlikely she would answer a novice, lukewarm believer.

Yet, unexpectedly, a response echoed in his mind almost immediately. But the voice that answered was one very familiar to a Blade of the Night: the voice of Mr. Wang Yu, a member of the Special Operations Team.

"It’s Gilbert, right? I am Wang Yu of the Special Operations Team. I heard your prayer. Don't be surprised; I hold another identity as an Archbishop of the Lady of the Night. We can discuss my relationship with her later. Just keep listening; I can hear everything you hear."

"Don't worry about your safety. The Lady’s power can reach you now. If they try to attack you, the darkness will shield you. Take the chance to escape then."

Gilbert was stunned for the umpteenth time today. He could not fathom why his prayer to the Lady of the Night was answered by Mr. Wang Yu of the Special Operations Team. Still, this was good news—at least this hero who had saved the academy was trustworthy!

Wang Yu was currently in the spiritual realm, using the Tree of the Night Sky to collect information from Gilbert’s location. Whatever Gilbert heard was captured by Wang Yu through his connection with the Lady.

Earlier, Charles had contacted Wang Yu via communication crystal, asking what he was doing and why he was testing him. Wang Yu had been confused, but he had not ignored Charles’s strange questions and had carefully inquired about what was happening.

After Charles informed him of the sudden psychic corruption, Wang Yu contacted the Lady of the Night without hesitation. She told him that a massive amount of psychic corruption had suddenly emerged from a believer and had been distributed among the others.

Using his authority over the Tree of the Night Sky, Wang Yu quickly locked onto the source—Gilbert, who was praying for his message to be delivered. He immediately used the Tree to answer the plea.

With Wang Yu’s response, Gilbert felt a temporary sense of calm. He steadied his heartbeat and breathing, disguising himself as someone who had suffered a mental breakdown and fallen into a coma. Trusting a comrade—that was always the way. Since Wang Yu had received the message, he would do his part!

"Forget about them. Even if the vessel was incomplete, the sheer volume of psychic corruption would have shattered their wills. They won't leak anything. Leave them be. If we attack and leave traces for those mad dogs in the Blades of the Night, it will be troublesome. Compared to those nobles, the Blades are actually quite useful. Let's avoid conflict with them for now."

"Fine. By your tone, does the Royal Court intend to move against those nobles?"

"Hmph. A bunch of short-sighted fools. Honestly, the King doesn't even need to lift a finger; they will tear each other to shreds soon enough. Remember, the King doesn't care who sits beneath the throne, but the one upon the throne must never change. Let them fight for status, but when the time for reckoning comes, the parts that shouldn't remain will naturally be removed."

"When?"

"At least not now. They still have their uses, and they haven't crossed the line yet. I hope they have some self-awareness. The King’s indulgence isn't because he can't handle these people who think they are indispensable to the Kingdom. Though, without this lot, 'it' could never have been nurtured. Heh, the Wall District and the shadows of the Royal City owe much of their existence to these people."

The conversation echoed in Gilbert’s ears, the information chilling him to the bone. The implications were too incredible. Were these people from the Royal Court? What were they planning? It was unimaginable.

"Is the data collected? The support team from the Blades of the Night is attacking fiercely. Those Abyss Cultists pretending to be mad can't hold them back much longer. Three minutes at most. If you aren't done, we’re retreating."

The dialogue was interrupted. Someone at a distance urged the man inspecting the golem. The delayed support team was about to arrive.

"Tch, Abyss Cultists? Even the dogs these nobles keep are trash. Forget it, it’s basically done. Retreat."

Urged by his companion, the man stopped his inspection and retreated quickly. If they ran into the support troops, it would be a disaster.

The footsteps faded. As Gilbert’s tension eased, a heavy weight settled in his heart. The information he held was too vast, too dangerous. He didn't know how to handle it.

"Mr. Gilbert, please keep this information confidential for now. Please come to the Blades of the Night’s surface outpost in the Royal City later. Captain Shugin and I have some things to discuss with you."

As Gilbert drifted in confusion, Wang Yu’s voice—the one that had answered his prayer—sounded again, providing him with a clear path forward.

"Hurry! Hurry! Charge! Those damn Abyss Cultists have wasted too much of our time! With that level of psychic corruption, every second we miss is a betrayal of our comrades' lives. I see them! Confirm their status, provide aid!"

A loud, angry roar echoed from the cave on the cliffside. It was a voice Gilbert knew all too well—the grumpy old man who had become a military doctor after retiring. He had been scolded by this harsh old man many times, but at this moment, that signature roar brought him immense relief.

……

"This is everything he heard."

Having arrived at Shugin’s office through a rift, Wang Yu calmly relayed the conversation Gilbert had overheard in real-time.

Shugin, having listened to the report from Wang Yu, who had just burst into the office, fell into a heavy silence. He stared at a pile of unprocessed documents on his desk, lost in thought...