Chapter 340 Agatha’s investigation
Chapter 340 Agatha’s Investigation
The visitant left, as suddenly as it had come.
The old caretaker of the cemetery was a bit dazed, he looked at the direction where that flame dissipated, but in his mind there was still a lot of information revealed by the other party in the short conversation just now, until Anne next to him grabbed his sleeve, and only then did the old man suddenly woke up with a start.
He lowered his head and saw that Annie was looking at herself somewhat uneasily, and in the girl’s eyes, besides being overwhelmed, there was also nervousness and confusion.
Perhaps she was already able to understand the difference between life and death, but she was still unable to fully comprehend what had just happened.
The old guard bent over, his old stiff joints slightly stinging in this cold winter, he reached out his hand and patted the snowflakes on Annie’s shoulder, “Annie, don’t be afraid, nothing bad happened.”
“Grandpa guard ……” the girl’s lips opened and closed, she was organizing her vocabulary as best as she could but simply didn’t know where to start with her question, “That man just now …… “
“Don’t ask more questions, don’t think more than you have to, just like the textbooks say, don’t pry into knowledge that is not open to mortals – just know that it was a visitor, He meant you no harm, and now that He’s gone, your connection with Him ends.”
“Then my father ……”
“Your father may have done great things – more than any of us could have imagined,” the old guard said softly, reaching out to press the girl’s hair, “Anne, don’t worry about it, he’s no longer adrift at sea, he’s gone to a better place. Go back and tell your mother, she’s been waiting for this news for a long time.”
Annie pursed her lips and hesitated for a long time before whispering in confirmation, “This time, it’s true?”
“It’s true,” the old guard smiled, “You’re not six years old anymore.”
Annie nodded plausibly, then said goodbye to the old cemetery caretaker as she turned toward the path that led down the block, following the rutted tracks that hadn’t yet frozen into ice as she slowly made her way back home, slowly blending into the silvery backdrop of the city.
In front of the entrance to the cemetery, the old guard looked in the direction of the path for a long time, knowing that Anne’s figure disappeared into the intersection, before he gently breathed a sigh of relief.
That child didn’t fall this time.
He then raised his hand and gently pressed something in his pocket – a letter that seemed to contain countless secrets was lying quietly there.
From the unnameable visitor, the seemingly ordinary material may also carry unimaginable knowledge and mysteries, what does this letter …… really mean?
The old guard’s eyes gradually became serious, and he turned around to return to the cemetery, while waving his hand behind him, and the heavy iron fence gate then creaked closed.
The cemetery will not be open again today.
……
Agatha’s expression was serious as she looked at the broken pieces on the ground, the cold wind that kept blowing from the entrance of the alley moved her long hair, and the cold air couldn’t help but drill into the cracks of the clothes and bandages, and that bone-deep cold air seemed to be frozen with the fearful despair of the two Annihilationists when they were dying.
Several black-clad guardsmen were busy nearby, the squad that had arrived earlier to deal with the scene had blocked off the entrances and exits of the alley, and there were personnel investigating clues in several of the nearby alleys – forensics were proceeding methodically, but the confusion in Agatha’s mind had not abated so far.
What kind of power could turn people into porcelain doll-like pieces?
So far, no known divine or heretical spell had produced such an effect, not even the fancy magic spells used by the Phantom Demons had this odd phenomenon.
The young Gatekeeper lifted his cane and tweaked one of the shards with the pewter end, and the pale shards that seemed like ceramics tumbled to the ground with a crisp sound.
It flipped over, revealing about a small half of a face, including lips, nose, and one eye.
Even if it was mutilated, it clearly solidified the cultist’s fearful look at the moment of his death.
As well as …… a wry smile?
Agatha frowned, she could tell that the lips on the ceramic shard showed a suspicious curve, as if a reassuringly serene smile had been frozen just as it was about to emerge – and the fact that this subtle curvature and the fear that filled that eye were on a face at the same time instead made it look more and more bizarre and frightening.
After a moment of silence, she shook her head and walked towards another “scene” deeper in the alley.
A pile of almost charred wreckage was piled up in the alley, and traces of intense fighting and explosions could still be seen around the wreckage, with a large area of influence, but the fighting process was clearly overwhelming – and at the same time, it was a very different style of fighting from the pile of debris at the entrance of the alley.
A priest inspecting the scene got up from beside the pile of debris, and nodded to Agatha while removing his gloves, “An Annihilation Magus who had completed deep purification was not weak in terms of the degree of flesh and blood aberration, and theoretically, even if he had met a full squad of twelve Guardians, it was possible to counterattack and break out, but he was swiftly disposed of- -And there’s almost no trace of a counterattack to be seen.”
Agatha frowned slightly, “Can you tell what his opponent was from?”
The priest shook his head, “The simplest and roughest way of attacking, pure force, which rather makes it difficult to determine the identity of the other party, but in this vicinity we found some traces of unusually condensed water vapor, which may be the only clue.”
“Is that all the traces of water vapor condensation ……,” Agatha said softly, and looked back in the direction of the alleyway entrance, “two very different fighting styles ah.” “Yes, one is simple and brutal, the other is bizarre and dangerous, the common denominator is that they are both very powerful – cleric level heretics have no chance of fighting back,” the priest nodded, “the only good news is that they are clearly Annihilation Sect’s enemies.”
“The enemy of our enemy is not necessarily our friend,” Agatha shook her head, “Not to mention their apparent tendency to operate in stealth – unwillingness to show their faces – which in itself is cause for alarm. ”
At that she paused, then inquired, “What about the survey of the neighborhood?”
“The residents in the neighborhood have heard the movement of the battle, but most of them don’t dare to snoop around, and can only tell from their mouths when the battle took place and how long it lasted – it happened around after one in the morning, and lasted for probably less than three minutes.”
“Is that all? What about the rest?”
“Nothing more for now,” the Reverend spread his hands, “I’ve arranged for men to go door-to-door to investigate the situation, including the alleyways further down the street, to see if they can find any eyewitness reports of strangers hanging out, but Fireplace Street is a big neighborhood, so I don’t expect to have any results anytime soon. ”
Just then, the sound of slightly hurried footsteps suddenly came from the side, interrupting the conversation between Agatha and the priest.
A guardsman with short brown hair walked quickly into the alley and came to the priest’s side to quickly report on the situation.
“Inside the building?” Listening to his subordinate’s report, this priest immediately frowned and looked up at the building diagonally across the alley.
Seeing this, Agatha immediately inquired, “What’s going on?”
“A situation has been discovered in that house at number forty-two,” the priest immediately said, “There is a Sanguine female who was attacked by a transcendent power and fell into a coma, and a room contaminated by a bizarre object has been discovered on the second floor of the house.”
……
Inside the caretaker’s hut, Cemetery No. 3, the old caretaker carefully locked the door to his room, and then went to the desk in the corner with a serious expression on his face.
He had already instructed the guardsmen outside to keep a good lookout around the hut, and to guard the clearing around the house adequately – but that wasn’t enough.
After arriving at the desk, he took more items from the drawer, including incense, essential oils, candles, and powdered herbs, and began to set up a powerful altar.
Lighting the candles in specific locations and adding essential oils and powdered herbs to them, blessing the entire desk again with the scent of incense, then placing the incense burner in the middle of the candlestick and constructing it in accordance with the symbolism of the altar – he prepared all of this skillfully, as if he had rehearsed each action a thousand times.
It was the proper quality of a veteran soldier.
A few minutes later, the altar was constructed.
The old guard exhaled softly, looking at the pale burning flames on the candlesticks and the thin smoky smoke that coalesced like substance over the table, he could feel that the power of Bartok, the God of Death, had briefly descended within this hut, the power of the bestowal of blessings lingering around the desk, stabilizing the temporal order of the place, as well as stabilizing his own spirit.
No amount of rigorous and tedious preparatory measures could be too much to ask for to come into contact with the Unnamable Knowledge.
He sat down slowly and completed another benediction in his mind before solemnly pulling the letter from his pocket.
The old man surveyed the cover of the letter.
It was something that had been handed to him by the unnamed visitor, who had confided that he would pass it on to Agatha, the Gatekeeper, but added that it would be fine as long as the message could be delivered to the Cathedral of Frost – nothing in the words said that no one else would be allowed to open the letter.
If all that was needed was to deliver the message, then it would be fine to read it yourself and then relay it.
After all, the cemetery guards were the first line of defense to the cathedral.
With a soft sigh of relief and complete readiness, the old man picked up the letter opener next to him and carefully unwrapped the seemingly plain cover.
A folded piece of letterhead slipped out of the envelope.
With an unprecedentedly solemn expression and almost martyr-like determination, the old guard slowly unfolded the paper— “Reporting Letter”, “Reporting Letter”, “Reporting Letter”, “Reporting Letter”, “Reporting Letter”, “Reporting Letter”, “Reporting Letter”.
The three words “Letter of Informer” came into view.
Old guard: “……?”
(End of chapter)