Chapter 12

The shadow twitched a few times and then repeated the motion of lunging at her. Iris immediately transformed her shadow magic into a larger curtain to block the attack.

The shadow dagger struck her shadow magic, and Iris barely managed to fend it off.

She sensed the attacker’s force weakening gradually until it stopped completely.

The assailant retracted his shadow magic back into his shadow. He paused, seemingly lost in thought.

Iris did not lower her guard despite the attacker stopping.

Being cautious when you know nothing about your opponent is never a bad thing. She focused intently on controlling her shadow magic, prepared for any sudden moves.

The two remained locked in this tense standoff. Then, the attacker took half a step back.

Iris forced herself to interpret this as a gesture of goodwill and slowly stood up, leaning against the nearby wall.

Suddenly, the attacker spoke in a hoarse voice, impossible to discern whether male or female.

“Go… Seagull Pavilion… the day the Moonlight Gate opens,” he said.

…What… was that? Iris was stunned.

A secret code among the Shadow Folk?

What was the Seagull Pavilion? Was the “day the Moonlight Gate opens” a date or some other hint?

Sweat beaded on Iris’s temple. She dared not ponder the meaning of those words too deeply lest she lose focus and misjudge the dire situation.

At that moment, the attacker lunged suddenly, seizing her by the neck!

He emitted a low, agonized howl, shaking his head violently as if trying to shake something loose from his mind.

“They… have arrived…”

He knelt painfully on the ground, head bowed to reveal half of his face rotten and barnacle-like. In the crook of his arm, Iris noticed a golden collar fastened around his neck.

Suddenly, Iris understood something.

She swiftly concealed her shadow magic.

The attacker staggered to his feet, his shadow magic expelled from his shadow, uncontrollably deforming and swelling again.

Her heart pounded wildly. She didn’t know if the maddened shadow would strike her again, and now she had withdrawn her shadow magic defense—she was defenseless.

“Get down!”

A familiar voice came from outside the window—it was Bella!

Countless pure golden spears of light pierced through the walls from both sides of the house, all spearheads passing through the attacker’s body and embedding into the ground.

Iris felt warm liquid splatter across her forehead and cheek.

The sacred, brilliant golden spears were wrapped warmly with the flesh and innards of the pierced man. Blood quietly trickled down the slanted spear shafts, dripping onto the dust-covered floor.

The attacker was firmly pinned in place by these instruments of execution coming from all directions, frozen in a final pose that brazenly displayed how he met his end.

He was dead.

The clergy who completed the ambush jumped down from the rooftops or sides of the house. No one paid attention to Iris, who sat “spaced out” in the corner. They skillfully began processing the scene, retrieving bodies, talking, and arranging the aftermath.

Bella, who had been held back by the clergy, rushed in immediately after receiving permission.

She first gave Iris a warm hug and comforted her, saying it was over. Then she began checking Iris’s wounds.

Another member of the team, apologizing and asking for passage, pushed through the church personnel to Iris’s side.

She saw Iris’s chin resting on Bella’s shoulder, her eyes staring blankly ahead, silent.

…Poor child, she must be terrified, the woman thought.

“Captain, let me take a look at her wounds first,” the team member said.

Only then did Bella step aside.

The team member worked swiftly to treat Iris’s wounds. The magic used to stop bleeding and ease pain was effective; after a faint silver glow, Iris felt the presence of the wound lessen.

“Do you feel better now?” Bella asked.

“…Yes,” Iris responded uneasily. “Captain, should we head back now?”

Being confined in the small space with this group of clergy made her physically uncomfortable.

“We’ll go back. Come up—I’ll carry you,” Bella said, crouching and lifting Iris onto her back.

They did not leave immediately but instead approached a middle-aged man among the clergy.

Bella spoke respectfully, “Mr. Edward, we’ll be leaving now.”

Iris, resting her head on Bella’s shoulder, peered at the man. Edward wore a robe different from the standard uniforms, with more golden embroidery and thicker fabric. A golden hollow spherical pendant hung from his neck.

Edward nodded at Bella but looked sorrowful upon seeing Iris on her back.

He had an affable face, hard for anyone to dislike at first glance.

Edward approached Iris and noticed the bandages wrapped around her leg wound. “...Poor child, may the Lord bless you.”

Iris buried half her face into the collar of Bella’s clothing, hiding her expression.

Edward held his hand a fist’s distance from her wound. A golden light blossomed from his palm, bathing the injury in warmth.

Iris’s heart pounded nervously.

Could a member of the Shadow Folk receive healing magic from the Church?

Would there be side effects? Would he sense her true identity?

The warmth faded, and Edward smiled at her. “There, after taking the regeneration potion, your wound will heal quickly.”

Iris muttered a “Thank you.”

Carried by Bella, returning to the bustling street, Iris felt her breathing ease considerably.

Her companions chatted idly, and she listened half-heartedly.

Among the Shadow Folk who came to rescue, only one escaped; the other two were captured and their situation looked bleak.

Bella warned everyone to be cautious while out, as the cultists might retaliate for the failed rescue.

She sighed, “…There are far more cultists in this city than we imagined. Isn’t it like when you find one cockroach, countless others are hiding where you can’t see?”

Cockroach—Iris thought silently.

Mistaking her silence for concern, Bella comforted her, “You won’t have to join street patrols for the next three days, but you can still attend daily training—just don’t push yourself.”

“…Alright,” Iris nodded, then asked, “Captain, how are the other two in my team doing now?”

“Cody used supernatural arts to cast a simple protection on himself and was moved to the infirmary shortly after landing. His condition is fairly optimistic,” Bella said. “As for your classmate… Jane? He’s unharmed, just frightened.”

Iris made a relieved face. “Captain, are you all okay? Anyone hurt?”

“Layton and the others encountered a cultist and suffered minor injuries, nothing serious,” Bella replied. “He’s lax in physical training, so his close combat moves weren’t smooth, and he paid the price.”

“Ha, Captain, you’re too strict. Everyone knows Layton hates fighting the most,” a teammate joked.

“Then he needs to catch up properly,” Bella said sternly.

Laughter followed.

Iris looked at the teammate who treated her wounds expertly and asked, “Could you teach me the healing spell you used?”

The woman smiled, “You’ll learn these soon enough. They’re required training before field duty.”

“Very practical…” Iris joked, “I should’ve learned this before I left.”

The woman said, “You rookies sure had bad luck this time—rare events just happened to strike.”

“Finish early today and get some rest. I’ll try to apply for some subsidies for you,” Bella patted Iris’s shoulder. “Leave the rest to the Church. We’ve done enough.”

Given their injuries, no one could accuse them of shirking their duties.

Iris was taken to her family’s infirmary. After the doctor examined her wounds, he forced her to drink a whole bottle of bitter regeneration potion.

“Not too deep. You’ll recover in a few hours, but it will drain some of your energy. Rest well tonight, and you’ll be refreshed tomorrow.”

After the instructions, the doctor hurried her out to rest.

Bella, who had accompanied her, was about to leave for her own duties but walked Iris to the dormitory vicinity.

Before parting, Bella suddenly said, “…I saw traces of Grease, Magic Missile, and Fireball spells in the alley. Iris, though I advocate not fighting cultists… I understand you might have had no choice. You didn’t lose your fighting spirit facing powerful enemies. You’re not some pitiful little thing—you’re a brave supernatural.”

Iris was taken aback.

She realized Bella’s “pitiful little thing” echoed Edward’s earlier words.

Looking at Bella, she thought for a long moment, then said seriously, “…That’s because you taught me well, Captain.”

Bella tapped her forehead. “…Don’t learn Layton’s slick talk.”

Iris: “…Oh.”

The captain was still the stern captain.

Though her walking was still a bit awkward, the wound no longer hurt.

It was already midday. Iris went to the cafeteria for something to eat, but the earlier scenes lingered in her mind, killing her appetite. She mechanically stuffed bread into her mouth.

…Thinking about meeting Annie tonight, she regretted packing her schedule like this.

After eating, she dragged herself back to the dorm and collapsed onto her bed.

The taut nerves finally relaxed. She covered her eyes with her hand and replayed everything that had happened today.

What exactly were these Shadow Folk?

What was the Church’s true intention?

The Shadow Folk who attacked her seemed strange—clearly not in their right mind, appearing so close to the Church’s perimeter. Their behavior didn’t fit the escape pattern after a prison break; logically, he had no reason to chase her and Jane—he could have just fled!

And that golden collar on his neck… Iris guessed it was placed by the Church.

Was it a device to control him?

These fragmented thoughts intertwined into a strange conclusion.

The attacker might not have been part of the two Shadow Folk involved in the prison break. He had escaped from somewhere else.

From where? Could he have fled from the Church? Hence the collar controller?

Did the Church not execute these Shadow Folk outright? Or did they use them for other “purposes”?

A chill ran down Iris’s spine at the thought.

If she had made a single mistake at any point today, she wouldn’t be lying in bed now, calmly reviewing it all.

Today, the world shed its dazzling supernatural veil, revealing naked, ruthless killing intent plated on golden dishes, served with the flesh and bones of her own kind as the garnish—placed right before her.