Academic gathering with a lich-Chapter 658 - 609 The Buried Secret Pact

Watching the dragon’s silhouette turn into a black dot on the horizon, Lyle stood still, murmuring to himself.

"They’ll definitely take it to heart, my odd response just now must have carried some weight in their minds. Only in this way, will they avoid any extra trouble."

[You’ve shackled the Giant Dragon.]

"I am the shackle, the mutual choice of the Giant Dragon mentor and Mr. Raymond."

[Do you know the story of ’The Boy Who Cried Wolf’?]

"We share the same memories, what are you trying to say, ominous sign?"

[You’ve grown accustomed to the Liches’ way of thinking. That last whimsical remark wasn’t really out of place in your usual speech. You deviate from humanity more than you realize, leaning closer to us. Frequent jesting will only make them think it’s your true self; your warnings aren’t very effective.]

[You’ve strayed from humanity for too long.]

Lyle paused for a moment, looking at the palm of his hand.

"I didn’t notice, could that be a big problem?"

[It’s not a problem, for us it is even an evolution. We are growing, just like fresh and spirited young dragons.]

"Say what you will, I’m going back to Andrei Academy..." He paused mid-step and drew his foot back, "Have I not visited humans in a long while? Uncle Ralph is probably in his little world for two, and William is in... a world for three. Right, we could visit Earl Kevin. Since he decided to succeed Hamlet County, we haven’t met. Pigeons capable of flying to Naslan or Andrei either return dead or not at all; the recent few times, it’s been through Mr. No Name from the Advanced Magic Research Society, regretfully, his punctuality with messengers isn’t exactly enthusiastic. Come on, Nia, let’s pay a visit to Earl Kevin."

The shadow of the baleful omen moved along the ground, the overlapping tree shadows shivering as it passed by.

[Your existence also influences those around you, humans closely associated with you can hardly be considered normal anymore.]

...

In Andrei, bright sunlight fell upon the broken window mullions, weeds coated with minced meat stripped away the warmth of the light, leaving only pure sunlight shining on the recently refurbished marble floor; the empty corridor echoed no footsteps, as if only ghosts loitered there.

The sound of chains sliding echoed from a corner as a flowing blue and white checked tablecloth fell from nowhere, it was Mr. Reporter, one of the trio from the literary society, the chief editor of the Andrei Daily, and one of the writers for the bizarre series of publications.

This was an isolated corner of Andrei, a cul-de-sac. The tower that once connected to this path had vanished, leaving only ruins to hint at its past significance. No Lich would come to this vacant window, for it faced directly into the sunlight, and the ivy crawling out of the debris showed vigorous life. Only newbies who’ve gotten lost or Liches like Reporter who suppressed their instincts for a thrill would come here.

To Reporter, this place was a not-so-secret secret base where he often came to sketch or to craft literary works that would startle heaven and earth.

"Ah, the Plague Doctor isn’t in Andrei; there’s much less fun here. With flesh disguises, the Liches’ self-awareness has grown stronger, and there are hardly any secrets left to trade with me."

No sooner had he made such a remark than Mr. Reporter saw a robed figure in his field of vision, sitting on the brick he often occupied himself, looking into the distance at the White Bone Forest amidst the light.

"Business has come to me. Let’s see what secrets this strange newbie holds." Reporter thought of thirteen ways to swindle that broke the friendly laws of the Andrei Liches—it’s tough to be a con artist, even tougher to be a reporter.

"Lost your way, newbie?" Feigning the warm welcome of a helpful senior, Reporter skillfully approached the figure.

The shadowy figure didn’t seem surprised and asked the reporter back, "How did you figure out I’m a newcomer?"

Confidently, the reporter said, "This place isn’t worth hanging around in unless you’re a lost newcomer or someone who came prepared, and I almost recognize all of the latter. Let me introduce myself, I’m a reporter, a Pact-Maker, I trade in secrets. Interested in finding out more? That is, if you have any secrets to share."

"Sure, I’ve been wanting to give it a try."

The newcomer was unexpectedly amenable, showing no wariness at all, just like Dr. Plague from back then.

Behind the reporter, the Brass Clock unfolded, and the rusted chains began to cover reality, perfectly forming the secret enchanted barrier for trading secrets. The reporter waited for the newcomer to reveal his secret.

A smirk appeared beneath the newcomer’s hood.

"There once was a lazy young man who was part of an ancient organization. They held a special profession, loyal to a King and his domain, and because of that, the organization had a high status on that land. No force, neither Holy Light nor any magic could take their place. The young man’s mentor was one of the leaders of that organization, their advisor to the King, or perhaps something more sinister."

"Out of laziness, the young man didn’t pay much attention to his profession, but his teacher, who was also his father, didn’t blame him. After seeing his child had not committed to carrying on his legacy, he excluded him from the tasks of serving the King and planned to keep him away from the darker aspects of their work."

"That was a mistake. The secrecy from his own apprentice and child only fueled the young man’s rebellion. He displayed his talents and began to dig into the work his mentor hid from him, as well as the organization’s true mission. He saw the darkness, his own comrades complicit with the King’s tyranny, their sole job to guard the ruler’s malevolent secrets. The young man’s world collapsed as he was filled with rage against the deceit and hatred for the organization that enabled tyranny. As a teenager of justice, he decided to execute his own justice."

"Don’t... don’t say anymore." Mr. Reporter, amplified by the power of the Pact-Maker, quivered with his voice, but the trade continued; he couldn’t stop it.

The newcomer continued the story.

"The young man found an opportunity during the organization’s most important ritual. He bravely stood up, exposed the King’s tyranny and the organization’s darkness to all the people, acting upon his justice, even if it meant destroying his kin. The members of the organization failed their duty; they couldn’t keep the King’s secrets. Rules descended from the heavens, tearing apart each one of them as a price for their betrayal. And the ’just’ young man received his ’reward’. The power of all the organization members surged into his body, making him the sole spokesperson for the rules. The King was torn limb from limb by the people, not struggling, merely watching his kingdom plunge into the flames of war."

"It turned out, the truth of this world wasn’t as simple as the young man thought. That ancient soil was once the cradle of gods, where divine malice was buried. The King and the mysterious organization formed a pact, with the King serving as the vessel for the malice, while the organization ensured the stability of the nation. With the loss of the King and the organization, the divine malice turned to war, ravaging the land, with the poisons of war lingering even now. The young man realized this too late, as the secrets once guarded by his comrades had transferred to him upon their deaths."

"Can this story serve as the secret for the trade?"

"Sperg Yesh, Mr. Reporter? Or should I address you as, the last Pact-Maker?"

[Trade failure, Sperg has already possessed this secret.]

Mr. Reporter collapsed to the ground, his eyes filled with venom looking at the newcomer in front of him.

"That is... my story... my secret, who the hell are you..."

The newcomer removed his hood, revealing a handsome face below the golden hair, his smile carrying an indifference to all living and dead things.

"I am Serio, the enemy of all that lives and all that has died. Mr. Reporter. That is the secret of our trade."

[Trade successful.]

"Pact-Maker, you must not reveal secrets."