They didn't make a move on the streets. Instead, they simply followed that bird—or rather, that thing that resembled a bird—moving under a concealment spell. The creature continued to drag itself forward in that same strained way—very slowly, very slowly, like a silent stage play, or a performance of some tedious avant-garde playwright's work. And the two of them were just helpless actors caught in the show.
Though the houses on either side looked deserted, what was really inside them? Who knew if behind some shadowy window lurked a heap of grotesque creatures watching the street below? Otherwise, where did all that household trash and shattered human remains come from?
This world was thoroughly unpleasant, and the buildings themselves felt like monsters. Seen through the magic spell, the scenery evoked a revulsion beyond imagination. On either side of the crooked streets—like children's scribbles—were jumbled stacks of distorted boxes, as if they'd been molded from cream cakes dropped into the mud… or perhaps they were meant to be houses. Through the gray filter that drowned this world, one could almost feel it—the ears plugged like with cotton, the eyes soaked in warm mist, the brain floating in a vat of glue. It was enough to drive someone insane.
"It's gone inside," Cesar frowned. Why do I feel like I'm a fish being baited? he thought.
The house before them, a deep shade of purple, was surprisingly large. Unusually tall, somewhat squat, but overall twisted in form. At first glance, it looked like a stack of playing cards hastily glued together after being torn apart. At second glance, it resembled a towering pile of human tumors, teetering on collapse.
"I've never seen a house shaped like this," Jeanne said. "But living inside something like that must make you either want to kill someone—or lose your mind."
"You've clearly done both," Cesar sneered. "I know you've got plenty of experience in that area."
"I can go mad right now and cast your soul into an endless labyrinth. Want to give it a try?"
"Before you go mad, how about stepping out of my concealment spell first?" Cesar shot back, still mocking.
Jeanne gave him a venomous glare.
"I love that look you give me," he said, grinning. "When you can't stand me but can't do anything about it. It really helps with my nerves."
"Ugh." She tried to spit in frustration, but she hadn't eaten in a long time and was far too parched—even saliva wouldn't come.
Cesar just shook his head.
"So, here's the real question: are you sure we're going to follow that thing inside?"
"I need food and rest. I'm not sleeping in a garbage heap," Jeanne replied. "If there's something ominous in the house, we'll just kill it. Who knows what might crawl out of this hellhole at night. And besides—" she let out a cold laugh, "don't tell me you haven't felt something watching the street from inside?"
"I haven't. My spell hasn't picked up anything—no responses at all. Is that supposed to be part of the training you received?"
"Just personal talent," Jeanne shrugged.
"So you know damn well that something's using that freaky bird as bait, and you still want to drag me in there to die?" Cesar asked bluntly.
"Is that how you survived all this time—by acting like a rat?" Jeanne shot back, even more cuttingly.
"What do you expect me to do then? Charge into Her Majesty's bedroom and try to assassinate her?"
"I've stormed more heretical orgies with holy knights and priests than I can count. We made them pay for their sins—and this won't be any different. Get used to it, or die."
"Tch... I hate your kind of crusading righteousness."
Cesar clicked his tongue in annoyance but didn't argue further. He turned around, reached out, and snuffed the torch in Jeanne's hand with a pinch of his fingers, then pointed directly at her eye.
"Don't move. In a place this cramped, I need to adjust how the spell operates."
Apparently, he was quick to accept reality—or maybe, deep down, he was pretty easygoing after all.
Jeanne didn't put up any resistance. She merely looked annoyed as she fixed her gaze on that glowing fingertip—the one flickering with a sinister light. The way she ground her teeth together made her foul mood perfectly clear. In all her life as an Inquisitor, she had never seen so many heretical spells—certainly not in a single day—and now they were all being used on her.
With a flash, the light disappeared, and Jeanne blinked. Her golden pupils began to shimmer slightly—it looked mesmerizing. But they were also the eyes of a dangerous woman.
"What does this spell do...?" she asked.
"The primary function is to let you see certain spectrums of light that human eyes normally can't detect. Secondary function... night vision."
"What do you mean by spectrums?" Jeanne's mood recovered quickly.
"It's a term we coined ourselves. No way I could explain it all to you in under an hour," Cesar replied, walking toward the house and motioning for her to follow. In truth, even he barely understood the details.
"Then forget it. I hate lectures."
Jeanne drew her pitch-black longsword and stepped into the dark entrance.
The entrance led into a narrow, winding corridor. It was surprisingly clean—like the hallway of a noble's mansion. But through magically enhanced eyes, it looked dark and filthy, smeared with what seemed to be fading bloodstains and handprints across the walls and floor. Grimy and deeply ominous. Cesar placed his hand on a clearly outlined bloody handprint, giving it a light touch—he could feel lingering traces of despair and fear, fragments of shattered souls.
"This place was probably used to funnel commoners from outside," Jeanne said. "There's still no explanation for the recent disappearances near the Holy City... Maybe it's related."
"No big deal. The number of people who died in last year's war could fill up this whole ridiculous city," Cesar said flatly. "And besides—"
Just then, a small black cat sprang out of nowhere and landed at Jeanne's feet. It wore an oddly humanlike smile and purred gently—"mew~ mew~"—as it rubbed against her ankle.
"What do you think this means?" Cesar asked casually.
"I've heard black cats are linked to candle witches, but I'm not really sure," Jeanne replied. "Those harmless village witches who use spirit-summoning magic—they'd never have any ties to the Church."
"That's discrimination," Cesar said. "I'm also a harmless village witch who uses spirit-summoning magic."
"You call ripping souls apart and using them as spell components spirit-summoning?! Candle witches just pitifully beg feeble spirits for help, while you destroy them completely—sometimes even offer them up to evil gods!" she snapped, eyes blazing with killing intent.
At those words, the black cat immediately dropped its smile. It quietly took a step back—only to bump into an invisible wall.
Pa—
A soft impact—the sound of its back hitting a spell-formed cage.
Cesar glanced over with a faint smirk. Under his gaze, the cat froze. Its fur stood on end, its eyes gleaming with wariness as it locked onto Cesar's hand—the one wrapped in black mist...
"Well, well, look at this cute little thing. Did it really think we were just harmless civilians?"
"Is this thing a shapeshifter?" Jeanne asked, smiling coldly as she lowered her gaze to it.
"You're overthinking it. This is just a small animal granted a bit of intelligence."
"What a pity." Jeanne sheathed her sword, bent down, and picked up the terrified little creature.
"You think it's edible?" she asked.
It looked up at Jeanne, then at Cesar, eyes filled with an almost human fear.
"...I can provide food for you, esteemed emissaries of the gods," it said.
"Oh, how considerate," Cesar clapped lightly. He had no intention of eating a cat with human-level intelligence—this was just intimidation. "While you're at it, why don't you tell us what your master is, and what your original plan was? Watching the civilians who fall into this place as they struggle and die?"