Chapter 65: At the Edge of a Cliff
Translated by Addis of Exiled Rebels Scanlations
Editor: PlumSauce
“‘Bonding’ can’t stop Umbrals,” Lucian said without looking up, peering through a lens apparatus that resembled a microscope.
John wanted to argue, but Lucian scoffed. “If bonding could control devils, every bloodkin on Earth would already be hailed as a hero.”
“Have you tried it?” John asked. He didn’t want to make a bond, but if it could get Coraci out of the isolation room, it seemed a compromise worth considering.
Lucian raised his eyes to meet his. He adjusted the lens. “We’ve tried. Historically, some bloodkin did…and paid a heavy price. Umbrals cannot be controlled by any means. In theory, in practice — it all ends the same. If you want to study the bloodkin’s struggles against devils, copies of the old records still exist. The Blackmoon family library has relevant materials; I can have Liz accompany you. Or you can go to one of the Association offices with larger archives, like London, Lyon, Tehran, Calcutta, Qingdao…”
“But a bond would let me control Coraci’s actions, right?” John asked stubbornly.
“Were you even listening?” Lucian sat down, fingers tapping the desk like a frustrated teacher dealing with a poor student. “Yes, you could control Coraci’s actions. But once the Umbral traits within him covers up his humanity, and his power fluctuates, what emerges is no longer him. Imagine a cup of poison in front of you. You have a spell to control whether the cup moves or stays still, but you cannot stop the toxin from seeping into the air.”
“He only loses control under extreme circumstances,” John said. “When his soul is attacked by evil spirits or some unknown enemy… He’s never lost control before. He’s no different from a normal person. If we can manage his actions, protect him, maybe we can prevent him from losing control. It’s like…making sure the cup doesn’t get jostled.”
Lucian sighed deeply and waved a hand at him. “Fine. If you insist on biting him, go ahead. A bond is between the two of you. It doesn’t affect how we handle things.”
John froze, unable to speak. Eventually, he gave up and turned to leave Lucian’s temporary office.
It was ten o’clock at night. In two hours, Coraci’s mother, Devine, would arrive in West Bay City. She was an instructor at the Association’s Salt Lake City office, an expert in spells, and a former member of the Arcane Covenant.
John had already heard Instructor Jere’s account of Coraci’s parents. He could easily imagine how panicked — and even terrified — Coraci must be.
According to Devine, Deville Zoltán had long been dead, confirmed by both the Rangers and Mr. Russell. Years ago, Rangers had saved Devine and her son while searching for her husband. They arrived too late to save him and witnessed the wizards killing Deville Zoltán.
One of the Rangers noted that Mr. Russell — the current warden of the Bunker prison — was among the wizards who hunted the Deville couple. This matched his personal account: a small underground branch of the Arcane Covenant had gone rogue. Russell had participated in suppressing it, targeting someone who appeared to have Eyes of Truth. Russell said the person’s eyes had been magically burned, leaving the pupil color unidentifiable.
Coraci, Smith, the Bewildering Monster couple, and the vampire Burton had all seen Zoltán. His eyes had been fine, possibly still retaining the Eyes of Truth.
The Association consulted Lucian. The Blackmoon family had studied the Eyes of Truth for decades, possibly over a century. Lucian explained that the Eyes of Truth were not a function of the eyeball alone, but a symbiosis of body and soul; the eyes merely facilitated vision. If the owner went blind, the ability ceased — but if they restored vision through corneal surgery or something similar, the Eyes of Truth could function again.
“Prosthetic eyes are a possibility,” Lucian speculated. “As long as something can replace the function of the eye, Eyes of Truth could work through it. Golem-based technology can create prosthetic eyes — easy enough for someone in the Arcane Covenant.”
Perhaps when Devine arrived, new developments would arise. She seemed to retain details from those years.
The Salt Lake City office had sent Rangers with her by plane; West Bay would provide support, with Liz, Carolyn, John, and Lathander handling her welcome.
They traveled by small bus, Lathander driving. On the way, Liz suddenly spoke up. “I’ve been wanting to say I’m sorry.”
“For what? Why?” John asked.
“For a lot,” she said, hands clasped. “On Jibi Island, I saw strange black flashes of light on Coraci. I immediately reported them to Lucian and the Association…”
“We know,” Carolyn said. “Even if you hadn’t said anything, your brother detected it himself. Wasn’t he already doing private tests on Coraci?”
“That’s another reason I want to apologize,” Liz said, looking at John after glancing at Carolyn. “You don’t understand Lucian. You think he’s meticulous and knowledgeable. He is — but he also… he will find every piece of evidence to prove Coraci isn’t human.”
John said, “If Coraci isn’t human…there’s nothing we can do.”
Liz shook her head, thinking John still didn’t understand. “Lucian wants Coraci to be a devil. Do you understand? When I learned that Coraci had been secretly cooperating with Lucian to investigate the changes in himself, I was more shocked than anyone. Do you know how much the equipment and disposable magical items Lucian used on him cost? The amount isn’t the point — the point is every test, every investigation, was aimed at proving Coraci’s anomalies. I asked him. He said…it’s a rare research opportunity.”
She paused, pressing her lips together. As family, she did not dislike Lucian personally, but she could not tolerate his attitude.
“…He said, ‘If Coraci really is a devil, even better.’ Those are his exact words. He also said he wanted to accelerate the progression, so if Coraci lost control, he wouldn’t have to carry the psychological burden…”
“What does that mean?” John clenched his fists.
Liz shook her head with a sigh. “You didn’t see the scene…but Carolyn did.”
“See what?” Carolyn asked.
“You’ve seen how Lucian and I deal with demons.”
Her voice was soft, matter-of-fact. Yet Carolyn felt her spine tingle with an unnatural chill.
John understood immediately what she meant. If Coraci really was a devil — and increasingly dangerous — the researchers no longer needed to consider courtesy or humanity. The suffering inflicted on him would only grow. They would probe him endlessly for answers, and only when unavoidable would they ultimately kill him.
“Can we change the subject?” Lathander, the driving mortal-born demon, asked cautiously. “The more I hear, the scarier it gets. Consider my feelings here, will you?”
…
The night flight landed. Devine was not at all what they had imagined. She had filled out a bit, moved with a lazy air, dressed in casual, off-the-rack clothes — no trace of “wizardly” presence. She looked more like an ordinary middle-aged housewife. As for her true age, she seemed to have aged a bit faster than expected.
Unlike the others, John recognized her instantly. He had seen her in a vision. Back then, she was slim and upright and possessed a beauty that seemed to push people away from a distance. He had seen a fleeting glimpse of her face. Zoltán had indeed stood beside her.
From those images, John could not discern the nature of their relationship. Perhaps they had been more than mere spouses; raised in the Arcane Covenant, both wizards, their tacit understanding might have exceeded even love.
As the car left Aefida Airport again, John sent a text to Coraci. Coraci was suffering every second he spent in that completely sealed room; John always wanted to help distract him, even slightly.
“What should I call her?” John asked via text. “The Salt Lake City office said nothing and didn’t introduce her at all.”
“You can call her ‘Instructor’,” Coraci replied quickly, clearly still awake. “It’s the standard title for instructors in the Association.”
John continued, “I have another question. Sarah the giant-peak humanoid wants to apply for a business loan at the bank, but she only has citizenship documents — no other proof of social identity. Is that okay?”
“That depends on how much she wants to borrow. If it’s not too large, the Association can help.”
“To apply in person… her face is fine, but her body is obviously not human. What then? Can an illusion be maintained for long?”
“Ask Liz. She knows the specifics.”
“Can I call you?” John asked.
“Of course,” Coraci replied, “as long as you don’t mind this side being monitored and recorded.”
As John dialed, Devine looked at him curiously. “You know Deville?”
John nodded. “He recommended me to join the Association.”
The call connected. They discussed helping the bee people, recent updates on Master Joseph, and other matters — just like old times when they partnered to handle problems.
The late-night streets were silent. Everyone in the car stared out the window, except John, who was talking. His voice sounded unreal, as if in another time and place, as if nothing before had ever happened.
“Don’t be afraid of the vampire bats,” Coraci began, addressing another matter. “They have a natural, almost fanatical reverence for bloodkin. It’s difficult for others to negotiate with them, but not with bloodkin. Every suggestion you make, they’ll gladly follow.”
“All right, I understand.”
John racked his brain for something more to ask, but Coraci cut him off. “Devine is with you, right?”
John nodded, forgetting he couldn’t see it through the phone.
Coraci understood the silence. “I want to speak with her. Can I?” Even though they would meet within half an hour.
Devine had heard him. In fact, she had been holding her breath, listening to Coraci’s voice without daring to suggest a call. The Salt Lake City team on the bus signaled approval, and John handed the phone to Devine.
“Mom?”
Coraci’s voice made Devine shudder. Without any greeting or comfort, she asked directly, “Can you feel who you are?”
Coraci was silent.
“I’ve seen the Association’s records… I already have some idea,” she continued.
“Have some idea of what?” Coraci felt a tightness in his chest.
“I know who you might be.” Devine’s eyes reddened. Her voice trembled, yet her tone was chillingly cold.
Coraci’s call was being monitored by the Association the entire time. Erica at the front desk set down her headset and looked toward Instructor Jere.
Carolyn and the two new interns stood outside the isolation room, and the exorcists and hunters from the Association’s headquarters also rose to their feet. They couldn’t see Coraci through the door, yet their eyes inevitably gazed in that direction.
The information Devine had revealed was critical — she believed that this “Coraci” was not her son. Perhaps she had more to explain, but even the conclusion alone was already devastating.
Inside the isolation room, a dim light glowed. Coraci sat on the edge of the bed, back straight, almost rigid. He pressed one hand over his mouth, unwilling to let the increasingly heavy sound of his breathing be heard by the other person on the phone. The room seemed to collapse inward, crushing him. He felt as though he were trapped beneath a mountain of rock.
Devine drew a deep breath, closed her eyes, and then opened them again. “I can’t believe this is real. I raised you… From the very beginning, the only one I ever raised was you…”
The Salt Lake City hunters exchanged glances, uncertain why she would say such a thing. She seemed convinced that Coraci was not human. If that was the case, why insist on coming to West Bay City to meet him? She could have stayed in the U.S. and explained everything.
She continued, “You see, we’ll meet very soon. I want to see you one more time, to see your face with my own eyes. I’m sorry — I can’t control my emotions right now. You know me… I get excited easily…”
She wiped the tears from her cheeks with the palm of her hand, nearly despair in her eyes. “I can’t love you anymore, but I miss you.”
While Devine spoke, John had taken back the phone. “Coraci, are you still there?”
There was no response. John didn’t know if Coraci was deliberately keeping silent or if he had dropped the phone.
“We’ll be at the Association in a few minutes,” John said into the phone. “Nothing’s clear yet, but we’ll figure it out. Okay? How are you holding up?”
After a long hesitation, Coraci finally said, “I understand what she means. I am not Coraci.”
“Of course you are! You are—”
Before he finished, a violent impact threw the small bus off balance. John’s attention was fully on the call. He hadn’t yet registered the sound of screams ringing in his ears.
A tanker truck had barreled through a red light, deliberately not braking, ramming their bus straight toward the storefront windows at the intersection. Tires screamed against the asphalt, the noise grating — then swallowed by the crashes that followed.
The thunderous sounds reached Coraci, who was holding the phone.
“John?” He stood up, reflexively trying to move toward the door, almost forgetting he was confined inside the isolation room.
The call didn’t drop. He could still hear the metallic screeching and human voices — but John hadn’t responded.
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