Chapter 28: Silhouette Guardian
Translated by Addis of Exiled Rebels Scanlations
Editor: PlumSauce
It was a very ancient form of witchcraft. Not the magic of exorcists, but true sorcery — banned long before the Dark Ages.
In the past, sorcerers often used it to capture the souls of dying enemies, bringing them back for torment or for other research purposes. The spell required the caster’s blood. The method was to quickly cut out the heart of the dying person, and before it stopped beating completely, the caster would slowly drizzle their blood over the heart while reciting an incantation. The more blood, and the more evenly it was applied, the more stable the spell would be.
Even today, exorcists and other scholars of ancient magic disapproved of using this spell. Some refused to even mention it. After all, a heart containing a soul needed another body to be revived — either a relatively fresh corpse or a body obtained by killing the living.
John stayed far away, his face turned toward the corner of the wall. The scent of blood was overwhelming. His chest rose and fell rapidly, and his fingers dug into the wall until it felt as if he might tear the tiles loose.
Coraci murmured the incantation, squeezing more blood from his arm to drizzle over Mariana’s heart. The heartbeat gradually quickened until it matched the rhythm it would have had inside a living body.
“If Instructor Jere and the others knew I was doing this, they’d probably beat me up,” Coraci said as he finished the spell and lifted the heart with both hands.
John took off his coat and tossed it over. “Wrap it up. And why would they beat you up?”
“It’s not exactly a good thing,” Coraci said. “Most spells require materials and potions. But this kind of sorcery demands a sacrifice. In the theory of magic’s origins, blood is the most basic offering, and the incantation is used to control the ritual.”
John wholeheartedly agreed with the “not exactly a good thing” part. The heavy scent of blood was making him dizzy.
“Coraci, why did you even start studying spells?” John asked, wanting to change the subject. “As far as I know, most modern people never touch this stuff.”
“Probably a family tradition,” Coraci replied. “My mother is a spell expert. The Association found and approached us, so I naturally began working for them.”
“I’ve never heard you talk about your mother… Is she also in the Association?” John asked.
“Yes. A few years ago, she went to the U.S. branch as an instructor. My current house is her family’s ancestral home, but she didn’t live there before — she was in Baranya with my father. We moved here later.”
“Where’s Baranya?”
“Hungary.”
“Your father was Hungarian?” John realized that conversation was a good way to distract himself. His mind felt a little less focused on the blood now.
“I think so. My father died many years ago in an accident when I was very young — no older than five. I barely remember anything from back then, and I have no real impression of Hungary. I grew up in that house in the suburbs and hardly ever left West Bay City.”
“I’m sorry…” John lowered his head. “Am I asking too many questions?”
“It’s fine. It was so long ago. Can you really remember anything from before you were five?” Coraci smiled at him, then wrapped the heart in the coat John had given him and tied off the wound on his arm with one of the sleeves.
Coraci started to walk toward him, but John deliberately kept some distance. Coraci just smiled again and didn’t persist.
They faced the two entrances to the pool area, along with an employee passageway and a row of lockers for valuables.
“If there really is an exit here,” John asked, “then where is it?”
…
Carolyn stormed out of the isolation room and tossed the bloodied dagger onto the floor.
“I can’t take it anymore! That pervert was screaming like he was enjoying it! I felt like some kind of dominatrix club queen instead of a hunter!”
Her hands were covered in blood, and Liz handed her a pack of wet wipes.
Sidov refused to say where Coraci was. From his attitude, everyone understood that John and Coraci were being held captive by him. Even with Smith — who could read minds — they still couldn’t get anywhere. A shapeshifter could only read surface thoughts, not anything deliberately concealed. If the opponent had been human, Smith might have been able to coax something out, but demons were exceptionally skilled at resisting such intrusion.
“What about Mitchel?” Liz glanced toward another direction — Smith had just stepped out of a different isolation room, also wiping his hands.
The shapeshifter raised his hands. “Look, my brand-new 3D nail art is ruined.”
“Enough. You can just change it back. Did Mitchel say anything?” Carolyn asked.
“He said everything — even admitted to drugging drinks for guests — but nothing of value. He knows about Sidov’s ‘anchor point’ spell, but he has no idea where the hideout is.”
At that moment, the black-haired man who had been following Liz spoke up. “If you’d like, we could try. Maybe there’s a way.”
Carolyn had assumed he was an exorcist she’d never met before, but only now thought to ask who he was.
The man answered, “I didn’t introduce myself earlier — my apologies. I’m Lucian Blackmoon.”
Liz lowered her head, looking a little embarrassed. “This is my brother.”
She had mentioned her elder brother to Carolyn before, but no one had ever seen Lucian. He was twelve years older than Liz and usually worked at a university. On closer inspection, the resemblance between them was clear — not only in matching hair and eye color, but also in the habit of wearing formal suits and glasses, and in their generally serious demeanor.
Lucian was tall and slender, dressed in a shirt, sweater vest, and suit jacket, with rimless glasses — just like Liz. However, he seemed far more reserved than she did. Liz gave the impression of a corporate professional who wore business attire every day, while Lucian looked more like a pale, sickly aristocrat from an old era.
He stood, glancing around. “Do you have a standard surgical instrument kit?”
Instructor Jere happened to be passing by and leaned against the wall. “I’ll have to check the storage room. We might, but it won’t be complete — just a few general surgical tools.”
“All right. Do you have a hand drill?”
“Uh…what? We’ve got a hammer drill…” The same one they’d used last time to dismantle the elevator door.
Lucian frowned and shook his head. “No, no, not that. I mean the kind of hand drill used for craniotomy.”
Everyone turned to look at Liz, wearing the expression of, What exactly is your brother’s deal?
Lucian called Liz over, and the two spoke in hushed tones for a long while, as if finalizing some sort of “surgical” plan.
Eventually, they reached an agreement. Instructor Jere and the receptionist girl brought them the tools they had requested.
“I have a method that might help your companions,” Lucian said softly, his voice weak, as though his whole body lacked strength. “But I can’t guarantee it will work…”
“Just do it,” Liz told him. Then she looked toward her colleagues from the Association. “Here’s the gist — there’s a Blackmoon family method that can force someone to cast a spell. For example, some spells can only be altered or ended by the original caster, and mental control doesn’t work on them. Our method forces them to cast, forcibly drawing on their power.”
“Like manipulating a puppet with strings?” Carolyn asked.
“No,” Liz replied, “more like one of those asylum torture scenes in a horror movie…”
Liz sighed and glanced at Lucian. “Want me to be your assistant?”
“You do it. I’ll assist,” Lucian said.
Liz shook her head. “I can’t do this.”
“You can. If you don’t do it, I won’t go either. I could leave right now. The only reason I agreed to help is so that you can make some progress.”
Everyone looked at the siblings with some confusion; it was clear the atmosphere between them was a bit tense.
Lucian wasn’t part of the Association, and had never appeared before. He was very skilled with magic — better than many Association exorcists — which probably came from his lineage in the Blackmoon family.
Nearly everyone in the Blackmoon family was a magic researcher, but they avoided getting involved in supernatural incidents. They had connections to the Demon Hunter Society, the bloodkin leadership, the Association, and various scattered researchers. They studied and mastered magic, but rarely used it and were not keen on saving or hunting anyone.
Liz had once privately complained to Carolyn about her family’s stuffy atmosphere — like a gathering of all the most boring students from high school.
Now, staring at the surgical tools and at Lucian, Liz’s shoulders sagged.
Her reluctance to perform the spell was simple: it was cruel. Though she felt no pity for demons, the ritual was gruesome.
When she had studied Sidov’s ‘anchor point’ spell, she had sought help from her brother Lucian, hoping he could assist with the casting. After all, they were dealing with an Abyssal species.
Lucian agreed, but on the condition that he could see she had made some progress during her years living alone.
The only hobby of the Blackmoon family was to live hidden in plain sight and steadily advance their magical skills… Liz stopped arguing; she knew her brother could walk away anytime, and they needed his help.
The siblings entered the isolation room and shut the door behind them.
The people outside heard Sidov flirtatiously teasing them at first, then turning to insults, and finally to screams… Gradually, the screams stopped altogether.
“Do you think the company on the twenty-eighth floor can hear this?” Smith looked at the isolation room.
“Probably not. We soundproofed the entire floor,” Instructor Jere said.
The Blackmoon siblings forced Sidov’s ‘anchor point’ spell to activate again. Flames shaped like arrows began to hover around him — signs the anchor point’s center had been summoned.
The arrows, forged from demon blood, could “pin” the target back, like dropping an anchor in the sea. The anchor point only recognized the original caster’s blood and could only be triggered by the caster. Even if others understood the spell and had the blood, it was useless. But the Blackmoon family’s method could force Sidov to activate the anchor point.
“When the anchor point is ready, the center — that is, the hideout — will open its door to greet the caster. If your colleagues seize the chance, they can escape,” Lucian said.
Black blood dripped onto his glasses and cheek, making his skin look even paler.
Liz stood silently by the bound demon, gritting her teeth. The scene was horrifying, and Sidov was still alive.
She wanted to save John and Coraci, and though she felt no sympathy for demons, something inside her rejected it all. She closed her eyes and forced herself not to think.
Meanwhile, in an abandoned hotel somewhere, the underground pool glowed with a red light beneath the water’s surface.
Runes bearing the Abyss Digger symbol lit up underwater. A breeze drifted into the building, carrying the fresh scent of trees and earth.
The wind came from the water itself. It made no scientific sense, but it was happening. Coraci held the heart tightly and cautiously approached the pool with John.
“Mariana said there are guards here,” John watched the pool warily. “Could the guards be gone?”
Coraci tugged his arm. “John, back off!”
John saw only the pool water, but Coraci’s eyes saw another scene.
The tiles at the bottom of the pool were slightly shaking, rising toward the surface.
When the tiles floated high enough, even John could see clearly: the grid pattern formed by the files wasn’t just lines — it was a net floating on the pool floor.
At the drain opening, a small black dot appeared, growing larger as the wind and outside air seeped in. It turned into a spider-like creature as big as half the pool.
It was completely pitch black, without any details — only a spider’s silhouette, lacking any body structure, like a giant shadow.
“What is that?” John shielded Coraci behind him. The spider and its web were only guarding the pool; it showed no intention of attacking.
“Maybe a Hellshadow Spider… but how did Sidov get a Hell creature?” Coraci studied it. “Or maybe it’s a Poison Shadow in spider form? I can’t say for sure which.”
“You can’t tell the difference?”
“Who sees these things every day? I’ve only read about them in some books.”
Suddenly, a dull noise came from the lockers. A small imp crawled out of one, seemingly having wandered here through a random door.
Usually, imps and other monster guards feared their demon masters and wouldn’t appear here easily. But Sidov’s power was clearly weakened; everything in the building seemed to crave freedom.
The imp clearly wanted to escape quickly. It rushed toward the pool, aiming for a gap in the black grid. Just as it lunged toward the water, the net tightened and it stuck fast, unable to break free.
The giant spider silhouette bent down toward it, and the imp screamed sharply.
“What do we do?” John asked.
To prevent more dangers from rushing in, Coraci pulled out the small bottle of the simple bewitching charm and placed it at the pool’s edge. He had just finished when an Abyss minotaur charged in from the diagonally opposite door, while three mud-demon creatures ran in from the entrance on the same side.
Coraci hoped the bottle would temporarily attract the Abyss monsters — and sure enough, they staggered toward it.
He hugged the heart close to his chest, making sure it was safe, then returned to John’s side.
“What else can we do? We have to deal with the monsters and the spider before we can leave.”
“But there are so many of them…”
“The spider’s the real problem. As for the others — I trust your abilities.”
Saying that, Coraci stepped forward. John had the wall behind him, nowhere to retreat.
“But you’re too weak right now. You need to eat.” Coraci tilted his face up toward John, exposing the skin on his neck.
Author’s Notes:
About Smith’s Cosplay Ability:
Though Smith could cosplay as the feathered serpent god — or any other figure — he wasn’t truly as powerful as them. Well, if it was just cosplay, then yes, he was incredibly skilled. As long as he has seen an image, he could transform into it. If he had met the real person — or even spent time with them — he could become an even more convincing copy. If he wanted, he could even impersonate a certain actor or celebrity and wander unnoticed.
About the Blackmoon Siblings:
The Blackmoons were a family of prodigies. (I resisted the urge to write “nerd prodigy family” outright in the story — it would’ve broken the immersion.) The Blackmoon siblings were designed as a counterpoint to the Association and the Arcane Covenant, forming a kind of thematic trio:
- The self-contained prodigy family
- The altruistic saintly faction
- The ambitious thrill-seekers courting disaster
Maybe it sounds a bit simplistic or blunt, but that was the basic framework.
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