Tujea has been in love with the night since many years ago. It's not that he likes the dark, he just likes the sensations of the night.

yes, it feels.

For example, staying in a budget hotel room, reading the local newspaper, carefully scanning every word that smells of ink, and preferably having a handful of cheap organic candy at hand.

As the peculiar taste of candy slowly explodes on the tip of the tongue, the words in the newspaper are often combined into some not-so-good words.

Rushes, vendettas, appalling corruption. Whoever hanged for theft in the East, who was executed for treason, which factory closed down, and the workers had nowhere to go, this is the norm in the Empire, and it is already considered a good norm.

No matter where Tujea goes, as long as there is a certain order in the world, this kind of thing will happen all the time.

Occasionally, however, words in the newspaper become other words. For example, some news, some news from the dark front of the stars.

The newspapers will say that the Empire has won another victory, and that another world lost in the Dark Ages has returned to the light of the spark. Tujea knew that, as a rule, this was true, but a little later.

Or a lot of points.

There is no way, this kind of news is sent by the Terra government department, and it goes through a lot of scrutiny before it reaches the local government, and then they go through more scrutiny. By the time this news finally appeared in the newspapers, the planet had probably been back to the empire for more than a decade, if not decades.

Moreover, the newspapers will hide the details. Important details.

How many people died for it? What sacrifices did the Empire's loyalists make to bring this world back?

Where is it? Is it the Sun, or the hazy, or the more distant dark stars? Or is it the five hundred worlds of Otlama that have been lost for thousands of years and have not been heard from?

And, of course, the most important point.

How did the brilliance of the torch shine into the world again?

There have been many times when Tujay Adu has tried to cross a line and use the little authority and resources he has to figure it out, but he hasn't done it, even though it's important to him.

He can't break the law, and the only rule he has for himself.

Moreover, there are many ways to feel it at night, and it is not always possible to stay in a budget hotel and investigate the local customs in such a safe and sound. There were also nights when he would inevitably get bloody.

Just like this at this moment.

Tujea lowered his head and glanced at the nearest corpse.

Although it was covered in blood, it had only one wound, located in the throat, and the wound area was not large. The flesh of the wound is not turned over, but it is very deep. This means that the killer slit his throat, not cut it.

And this corpse was a strong Holdus man when he was alive, he had a large-caliber automatic gun, and the index finger of his right hand was even on the trigger.

Tujea looked at another corpse.

It was much more miserable than the first one. Its left hand was neatly split in two, starting at the elbow, and the fracture was flat as if it had been treated with a monomolecular miner. It had a straight cut in its abdomen, from which its internal organs had slid and were steaming hot in the night.

It still took only two knives for the killer to turn him into it.

Tujea withdrew his gaze and glanced around cursoryly. The corpses all over the ground surrounded the church, and they probably had this idea before they died, but they didn't succeed, but they did it after they died.

Sadly, they didn't even manage to splash their own blood on the church doors.

"I don't understand."

"Don't understand what?"

"You-" Gore of the Nest took a deep breath. "—who the hell are you, priest?"

"I'm a friend of your father." The priest with his hands covered in blood replied.

He was standing up straight, tapping his waist with a bloodstained hand. His expression looked very calm, and Tujea glanced at him, and it was clear at a glance that the priest was definitely doing something like that on a regular basis.

That kind of calmness is called getting used to it, not taking it for granted.

"My father was just an alcoholic bastard who worked in the Moran family's factory until he died. How could he possibly know someone like you? Gore asked unacceptably.

It's a miracle she's still sane, Tujea thought, and even if she's a minor leader, she's probably never seen much of a massacre of this magnitude. No, I guess haven't seen it at all. Although there are many murderers in the nest, there are murderers like this

He glanced at the priest again.

"What kind of person am I?" The pastor asked. Behind him was a small, well-maintained church, but his hands were stained with blood, from the broken corpses that surrounded the entire church. They stared at the three remaining living people with hideous faces.

"How do I know?" Gore asked back.

She was trembling, clutching her bare head, her fingers comically stroking back and forth over her braids. It looked like a mentally retarded child deformed by chemicals, or a poor worker who had injured his brain in an accident.

She can't be blamed either. Tujea thought.

Then he realized that he was probably thinking a little too much about tonight. But he didn't say anything and remained silent. He continued to listen to the conversation between the bloodied carnator and Gore.

The other party obviously knew what he was doing, but he didn't care.

"You don't have to know." The pastor told Gore. "Mr. Graham made a bad decision, so he has to pay the price."

Gore turned his head and glanced at the horrible pile of corpses. She asked dryly, "Has he already paid the price?" ”

"Not yet." The pastor replied calmly and patiently. "There are blood debts that even death is not enough to pay."

"Emperor," Gore sighed deeply.

"He's not here, at least not now." The priest smiled. "It's time for you to go home, Gore, and remember to come over next Thursday for service."

He raised his right hand and pointed in one direction. Gore nodded in disbelief, and subconsciously turned around to walk in that direction, but Tujea stopped her at this moment.

"My gun."

The Chaodu people looked back sluggishly, glanced at him, and threw his gun back, without any further hesitation or refusal. Tujea took it with one hand and placed it in the right pocket of his coat.

Gore walked away slowly, her boots resting on the flesh of the dead, the sound sounding as if she was beating the completely frozen flesh with a stick.

Watching her drift away little by little, Tujea never took his right hand out of his coat, he didn't even move, he still stood in place, about ten meters away from the priest.

The priest's eyes gleamed in the darkness, the glimmer almost like a cold moonlit night breeze, and Tujea looked at him, swallowing a mouthful of saliva that smelled of blood.

Eventually, he slowly withdrew his hand.

The priest nodded approvingly and turned around.

"Come with me." He said, and walked to the side door of the church that had been opened.

Through the gap, Tujea saw the light of the candle. But ten minutes or so ago, before he and Gore ran out of the church in fear, the candles had all been extinguished

He stood where he was, and instead of following, he asked the question, "What about these dead men?" ”

"Someone will take care of them." The priest said, and pulled the side door open.

The light of the candle flame flickered and spread out from within, casting a dim light. His shadow was stretched long, creating a sneaky, slender shadow on the white tiles in front of the church door.

Tujea looked down at the shadow, and then at the priest himself. He put his hand in the pocket of his pants and grabbed a crumpled piece of paper between his index and middle fingers. He curled his fingers and held the piece of paper in his palm, before withdrawing his hand and walking towards the church with his fist clenched.

The priest turned sideways and made way for him. Once he entered, he gently closed the side door. He seems to be silent in everything he does, and even his breathing is so soft that it's almost imperceptible.

Only then did Tujea realize that his back was completely wet with cold sweat.

The priest walked past him, his steps so light that there was no sound. He walked all the way to the pulpit, and then sat down slowly down the small steps. His back was against the pulpit, his hands still blood-red.

Tujea stared at the bloodstained hands, completely silent. He didn't know where the two straight knives, which weren't too short, had gone.

The priest looked up and smiled at him.

"You probably have a lot of questions to ask, Mr. Investigator? Tonight is still a long time, and my week is completely over. So I have a lot of time to answer these questions for you now, and I don't know what to do? ”

I suggest that we should start with the exchange of names." Tujea said stiffly.

"You're right, sir." The priest replied with a smile. "My name is Horst, but people prefer to call me by the word pastor. What about you? ”

"Tujea."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Tujea. I hope the 2nd arrondissement of Litatra doesn't make you too bad an impression, it's a small place, but it's also a nice little place. ”

"It was quiet, and nothing like this today has ever happened in my memory. In fact, Mr. Graham, who is still paying the price, has almost never been to the Second District in the past. ”

"We don't have much oil and water to squeeze for someone like him here, and his boss, or rather, the master, doesn't look down on the little money we have here."

The man who called himself Horst clasped his hands together and made a crunching sound.

"So they're here for you." His eyes stared at Tujea without blinking. "Do you know why?"

If only I knew.

Tujea licked his lips before answering his question in a hoarse voice.

"No, I don't know why, and I don't understand why a nobleman would openly target an investigator. Whoever gave the order, this is already considered treason. ”

"I know." Horst said.

Tujea's cheeks twitched.

"I know why." Horst repeated, holding his knees, and slowly stood up.

Looking at him like this, Tujea couldn't imagine what means he used to kill all those people. That amount of encirclement, even if the same amount were converted into unconscious living dead, with only two twin knives, it would take at least two Terra to kill.

Horst moved his back and walked to a pamphlet that had been thrown on the ground. He bent down to pick it up and walked over to Tujea.

As last time, he shoved the booklet into Tujea's hand. Strangely, the blood on his hands that had not yet fully coagulated did not leave any trace on the book.

"Turn the second page." The pastor took two steps back and said.

Tujie did as he said, and when he turned to the second page, he saw a line of small words as bright red as blood.

Whoever believes in Him and his dependents will surely perish by the sword.

Tujea looked up and asked, "What does this mean?" ”

"The meaning of this sentence is that people like me are destined to die under another sharp blade." Horst replied with a smile. "That's the first question I'll answer for you tonight, Mr. Tujea."

"But I didn't ask questions."

"You've got the question on your face, I can see it. You want to know how I killed those people, and now you know. At least, you've got part of the answer. ”

Tujea took a deep breath and used the act to ease his oxygen addiction once more, but Horst opened his mouth before he could speak.

"So, the second question." The priest retracted his smile. "You want to know the truth about this church and who I am, right?"

Tujea did not speak, but remained silent. He clenched his right fist tightly and let go of it. The ball of paper fell to the ground and was quickly blown away by the breeze, and I don't know where it went. Immediately after, he reached into the pocket of his coat and took his gun.

The bullet had been replaced, and he felt that Gore had done it. He'd thank her for that, but he's not sure the bullet will hit this one in front of his eyes. something, whether it is useful or not. Therefore, that thank-you will probably be taken to the grave.

"Mr. Tujea?" Horst looked at him inquiringly, his eyes unblinking. "What are you going to do?"

Tujea suddenly realized that he hadn't blinked, not once.

He tensed his muscles and said slowly, "What I do depends on your next answer, priest. ”

"What-"

"—I'm the one who asks the question!" Tujea shouted. He drew his gun.

Horst smiled, his smile full of appreciation. He threw up his hands and took a step back again, expressing his agreement.

"Okay, you ask." He said.

"Are you loyal?"

"Yes." Horst replied immediately. "I am completely loyal to the Emperor, the Empire, and humanity."

"Who are you?"

"The low-ranking priest of the Imperial Anglicanism, Horst Ndero." The pastor replied with kindness.

"Why should a priest kill them all?"

"I've already answered that question, Mr. Tujea. I am a believer in Him, and therefore I will perish by the sword. ”

"Who is he?" Tujea asked.

This time, the pastor didn't answer right away.

His face gradually calmed down, and his smile and anger were carried away by the cold wind that blew by. Little by little, the muscles that made up his expression became inactive, turning his unremarkable face into a mask of stiffness and silence.

The candle flame flickered, illuminating his eyes very deeply. A candlestick burned behind him, but his shadow was only a little under his feet, as small as the tip of a needle.

Tujea's heart beat faster a little, no, maybe not that said. It's not about getting faster, it's about getting closer to the limit.

He felt a wave of dizziness, the sound of his heartbeat filling his ears, and the tremendous pressure that came from nowhere ran through his brain, oppressing his vision and forcing his vision to blur.

He had another pain in his abdomen and right shoulder, and the wound was probably broken. He didn't know what Horst's stitching skills were, but judging by his exquisite slaughtering skills, his medical skills were probably not far behind.

And to no avail, the blood soon stained the bandage and his clothes, began to slide down the rough fabric of the coat to the ground, shattering.

Tujea gripped his gun tightly and laboriously put his thumb on the hammer. He tried several times before he put the hammer down.

He didn't ask questions, he didn't have the strength to speak. However, he didn't need to do it, everything was in his eyes.

The hungry green eyes were staring at Horst's lifeless face, trying to get an answer

Get an answer that is enough for him to rest in peace.

Horst opened his mouth and spat out a string of hissing and strange words.

At this moment, a violent thunderclap rang out in Tujea's ears.

He fell heavily to the ground and could no longer hear anything. His gun flew out of his hand and slid far off the floor tiles. The intense pain overwhelmed him like a tidal wave, but Tujea thought only of his gun.

This is bound to leave scratches. He thought regretfully.

——

"He's brave. It's funny, though. Horst said.

"What's so interesting?" Another asked, his voice very cold.

Horst clasped his hands in disbelief and shrugged his shoulders against the wall of the church bell tower. The night breeze blew, and the smell of blood was completely gone.

"You know, what else could there be? It's just lamenting this flurry of coincidences. ”

"What coincidence?" The man asked again.

"Really? Do you really want to keep knowingly asking questions like this? Horst asked.

With a cold smile, a giant stepped out of the darkness.

He was wearing a beautiful set of power armor, with pitch black as the main body, and the silver lightning that was deliberately set aside was beating like a living thing, which was extremely conspicuous. A bright yellow mantle bat wing reflected the night on its left shoulder armor, but a black and blood-stained blade was carved into its right shoulder armor.

"There's never really a coincidence, Horst." Giant said. "This fragment has been peacefully spent eleven years under your care, but it came to life the moment the investigator set foot on the Litatra."

"And those who chased him and knew his whereabouts." Horst narrowed his eyes and reminded.

He didn't seem to have something to say, but the giant shook his head, knowing exactly what he was hiding.

"As soon as you give the signal, we come. And now, we are still in the shadows."

He said as he retreated into the darkness.

"Keep watching, Horst. Let the investigator find out everything himself, he has the right to know the truth. Besides, I don't want to startle the snake. ”

"Whatever you want, sir." Horst said.

No more answers came from the darkness.

Horst didn't care, just looked into the distance, raised his right hand and waited.

After the first light was lit up in the sky of Litatra, he waved his hand and rang the bell. The heavy sound of bells fluttered down the white of the fish's belly, spreading through the low-rise buildings, announcing the dawn of the next day.

Outside the church, there is no longer half a corpse.

Horst lowered his head and let go of his right hand, a piece of gray paper that had been used to wrap candy trembled slightly in his hand. By the early morning light, he could clearly see the small, crudely printed lines.

The light of the dawn is the gift of the emperor, without whom mankind would be forever in darkness. Keep this in mind, citizens! 】

(End of chapter)

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