Chapter 155
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Chapter 155: Rondo
The members of the Problem Squad were not infamous merely for their dark pasts.
More so, it was their intense emotionality and defiance of control that earned them their name.
Companionship was necessary, but excessive emotional expression was a detriment to a team that often faced life-and-death crises. Every mission held the shadow of potential loss, and casualties among Night Watchers were not uncommon.
Yet, not every member reacted dramatically. For many, survival demanded adaptability. Without it, the “inner self” would falter.
Though few Night Watchers lived long enough to retire, most left their field posts midway, resigning to preserve what little sanity they had left.
The crying in the alley had finally subsided.
Holly knelt in silence, her lips pressed into a firm line. Her heart weighed heavy with grief.
She was still new to the Demon Hunt Agency and had never experienced the loss of a comrade before. This was her first time.
Though she might grow stronger in the future, at this moment, sorrow washed over her uncontrollably.
The hulking Rien stood nearby, his stoic presence offering no solace, his silence heavier than words.
Then Adelaide spoke.
“Bai Yan… he may not have died.”
Her voice was solemn, yet within her eyes flickered a spark of hope.
Holly and Rien froze in disbelief.
“What?” Holly asked, her voice trembling. “What do you mean? Bai Yan is alive?”
Adelaide sighed.
Her façade as the cold and authoritative leader had crumbled entirely. She no longer had the strength to pretend.
In truth, she had once been nothing more than a quiet, bookish girl.
“The reason I know this,” she began, “is… complex.”
She turned to Rien.
“You understand, don’t you? It’s because of that curse.”
Rien’s expression darkened. He nodded faintly, as if piecing together the fragments of an intricate puzzle.
“Could it really be tied to this, Captain?”
“What curse?” Holly demanded, looking from one to the other. “What are you talking about? Is Bai Yan truly alive?”
Adelaide regarded Holly with a seriousness that left no room for doubt.
“It’s time you knew the truth about the curse,” she said softly.
“And this is why I believe Bai Yan might still be alive.”
In the Land of Flames
“Judgment” spoke with the magnetic resonance of a seasoned leader, his voice filled with commanding authority.
“Surrender, Mr. Sioro,” he said.
“You’ve already lost. We don’t wish to kill you. All we seek is information.”
Black light pulsated relentlessly in the Land of Flames, extinguishing all life within its grasp. Its terrifying aura left destruction in its wake.
Even Lin Bian and Raven Reaper had fled. Staying would have meant certain death.
This was divine power, bestowed by the gods.
High above, the old man stood, encased in the black light that had been with him since birth.
He was one of the Savior’s chosen, an embodiment of divine will.
Though mortal arrogance tempted him to yield, he refused.
This was no ordinary struggle. It was a battle of faith.
With closed eyes, he whispered a prayer:
“Oh Savior, I dedicate my past, my future—my everything—to you. Grant me your miracle.”
In an instant, his blue soul ignited, consumed in a brilliant, black light that blossomed like an otherworldly flower.
The battlefield teetered on the edge of calamity.
“Pope,” the gray-haired girl, knelt with tears streaming down her face. She strained to contain the devastation, knowing that failure meant the destruction of Tatsumi City.
The confrontation had become a duel—”Judgment” versus “The Left Hand of Dark Light.”
“Judgment,” one of the empire’s mightiest, drew upon his own Relics: the “Nile River” and the “Roaring Hymn of the Storm.”
A deluge of water poured from
the heavens, erasing the black
light and weakening the divine
grace of the old man.
A colossal thunder giant
materialized, its roar splitting
the heavens. With a lance of
pure lightning, it hurled divine
judgment at its foe.
The black light shattered.
In the silence that followed, the
Left Hand of Dark Light was
no more—consumed entirely,
his body and soul obliterated.
The Land of Flames lay in
ruins.
In the Coffee Shop
Bai Yan, under the guise of
“Profligate,” sat in his usual
corner, sipping red wine with
an air of detachment.
The café owner, puzzled but
unbothered, brought him his
drink.
Outside, a massive thunderbolt
lit up the night sky. The battle
was over.
Profligate swirled the wine in
his glass, watching the world
beyond the window.
The activity of the Left Hand of
Dark Light had ended.
Now, only the final act of “Ten
Days’ Killing” remained.
The door creaked open.
Scatino entered, her
expression dazed, her
movements resigned. She took
a seat across from him, silent
and still, her fate no longer her
own.
Bai Yan sipped his wine.
And said nothing.
