He Was Here!

"When I went down earlier, I dove to the bottom of the sand pool. Down there, I..." "Section Chief, what did you see down there?" "Actually, aside from the corpses I hauled up, I didn't see anything. But I could sense that there must be something down there, because it was too dark." "Too dark?" Alfred frowned slightly, turning the words over in his mind. Although the Section Chief himself had never admitted it, in truth, his Light might be purer than that of almost all the Light remnants. So, what could darkness be in the eyes of the Light? Alfred looked at Neo again and saw that Neo had no intention of explaining, merely waving a hand at him. "Section Chief, I'm going down to set up the formation." "Mm, go on." Alfred stepped forward. Ventura and Muri naturally followed, intending to go with him, while Philomena was three beats behind. At first, she thought that since she wasn't skilled in formations, there was no need to go down; then she realized Ventura and Muri weren't skilled in formations either, yet they were following anyway, which struck her as foolish; finally, she realized she was the foolish one. "Hey, what are you guys tagging along for? Sit down and rest. Stay in peak condition. This sand pool is a boundary. On this platform outside the pool, we have a bit more freedom. Don't worry, if anything happens later, you'll be the first to charge in—I'll definitely be behind you." When the Captain wasn't around, the Section Chief's words still carried weight. Ventura and the others stopped and rested where they were. Neo called out to Alfred again, "Hey, leave the cigarettes in your pocket with me before you head down. I'm afraid I'll get bored sitting here." Even though the Young Master was currently in danger, Alfred took no offense at Neo's attitude, knowing full well that the Section Chief cared deeply about the Young Master's safety. Alfred pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from his pocket and offered them to Neo. Neo glanced at them, made no move to take them, and asked instead, "I want Church of Thunder cigarettes. Karen said he didn't bring any, which I believed, but I know you'd definitely carry some on you." Alfred pulled out a pack of Church of Thunder special-issue cigarettes and handed them over. "I was worried the Young Master might need them. Section Chief, please leave some for him." "Heh." Neo took the cigarettes with a scoff. "You definitely have more than one pack." Alfred said nothing, picked up the backpack containing the formation materials, and leaped off the platform. Ventura walked over with a worried expression and asked, "Section Chief, are we just going to leave the Captain down there and wait for the formation to be finished?" "Or would you like to take command?" "No, no, no!" Little Stone immediately waved his hands and shook his head. Neo lit a cigarette and took a deep drag, feeling the trembling deep within his soul. Then, with a somewhat distant gaze, he scanned the sand pool ahead, his eyes finally locking onto the massive skeleton of Compasini. "Are you really... dead?" ... As Alfred descended, just as his feet were about to touch the sand, he hovered in midair. Immediately after, he unzipped the backpack. Holding it in his left hand, his right fingers danced continuously, and the corresponding formation materials floated out of the bag and settled into their designated positions. The entire process looked like playing a piano, remarkably graceful. In truth, the path Alfred was walking had long since diverged. In the beginning, he stayed by the Young Master's side as a capable bodyguard, but as the Young Master grew and became stronger, that title had become increasingly nominal. Now, whenever the Young Master was heading somewhere dangerous, Alfred would advise him to take Philomena or Muri instead of himself. Alfred had carefully studied the Church of Order's records on Tyrannus, the one who personally penned the *Light of Order* and established the framework of the Church of Order. Records about him rarely mentioned military exploits; even at the end of the last era, during the God of Order's most frantic slaughter of the gods, there was no record of him participating in any specific battle. Yet his influence had endured all the way to the present. Alfred felt this was what he truly wanted. This wasn't mere self-consolation; he genuinely found the value of his existence in this supporting work, and he was happy with it. Of course, it wasn't that he hadn't made progress. In fact, he felt he had made immense strides—the present him was practically a completely different person compared to when he was a radio host in Rojia. However, compared to the Young Master, who had left Rojia not even as a divine servant and was now already an Adjudicator, Alfred's growth in strength was frankly rather lackluster by comparison. Fortunately, he had many hobbies and interests. Strictly speaking, he had come into contact with Mr. Hoffen's formation notes earlier than Karen, and had applied them practically earlier as well. It was just that later on, true professionals like Mr. Aisen and Mars joined the team, leaving Alfred with little room to showcase his skills. Thus, Alfred quickly laid out the formation while keeping an eye on the scene in the distance. Once the foundation was laid—meaning the bedrock was set—although the formation was still far from complete and had not been activated, its aura was already beginning to leak out. The sand pool was a boundary and also akin to a "natural" magic formation. Setting up a smaller formation within a grand formation would inevitably cause some interference. Alfred distinctly sensed a repulsive force hindering his formation setup, but it was still within an acceptable range. However, after continuing for a while, Alfred suddenly noticed a bizarre shift in that repulsive force. It drew close, then retracted, drew close again, then retracted... It felt as if someone were pressing their face right up against his in the dark, close enough that he could feel their breath on his skin. At that moment, the undulating sands below rolled more violently, and the sand swirling without wind grew denser. A voice inexplicably sounded right beside Alfred's ear: "Come see me..." Immediately, sand erupted violently, completely burying Alfred along with his half-finished formation. ... "Not good, something happened!" "Mr. Alfred!" Ventura and Muri sprang up at once, while Philomena darted forward. She was the fastest, but to her surprise, the Section Chief, who had been leaning there smoking alone, appeared right in front of her, blocking her path with his back. Her combat style was more like an assassin's, so in short bursts of speed, not even the Captain could match her, but the Section Chief... "Nothing's wrong. Go back and sit down." "Section Chief, but..." Something happened to the Captain, and they sat; something happened to Mr. Alfred, and they sat too? Neo waved a hand. "When I tell you to sit, you sit. Besides, I'm not mind-controlled and I'm not an imposter. If you suspect I'm a fake, try attacking me. If you don't suspect me... Dammit! You're defying the Section Chief now, is that it?!" The group had no choice but to sit back down. Neo peered downward, cursing: "I deliberately wandered around under the sand for so long, and you look down on me on purpose, huh?!" ... Buried beneath the sand, Alfred felt no suffocation. Quite the contrary, his surroundings were completely empty. Beneath his feet was still the half-finished formation he had been setting up. That mysterious voice sounded once again: "What kind of scenery do you prefer? The ocean, a garden, a palace, or a pasture?" Alfred replied, "Right now is fine. It's all fake anyway." "Very well." The figure of an old man in a white robe appeared before Alfred. His hair was grizzled and his skin wrinkled, but two long tusks protruded from the corners of his mouth and curved upward, like a pair of ivory tusks. "Being chosen by me is your good fortune. I will bestow my inheritance upon you. All you need to do after accepting it is deliver a message to the Church of the Desert, telling them that the Church of Order is preparing to establish a Desert faith sequence. My inheritance includes..." "I refuse." "Good, I will now bestow my inheri—" The tusked elder froze, only now processing what kind of answer Alfred had given him. Evidently, he had no contingency plan for being rejected, so his voice and movements began to blur, harsh grating noises scraping out continuously as his entire figure suffered severe lag and stuttering. Alfred lowered his head, fingers continuing to dance as he resumed arranging his formation. Like an auntie sitting in a chair knitting a sweater while waiting for her upset child to return to normal. After quite a while, the tusked elder finally stopped stuttering. "How could you refuse?" Without looking up, Alfred continued setting up the formation and replied: "Such matters cannot be agreed to on my own without my Young Master's approval." The tusked elder looked perplexed. "You have a master?" "An existence countless times more exalted than a master." "You have followers?" "I am a follower." "I should think that person would want his follower to become stronger." Alfred shook his head. "I apologize, but my Young Master would never do anything harmful to Order, nor would I burden him with this question. That would only bring him trouble, and my duty is to spare my Young Master as many of those troubles as possible." "Do you know? I only appear when I encounter a suitable inheritor. That means you need this inheritance very much." "I saw it just now. You are a spiritual imprint. Mm, Compasini?" "Yes, that is my name. So you should understand what you will lose if you refuse. You will regret it." Alfred didn't care in the slightest. "I won't regret it, because you cannot imagine what I will receive." "I considered that you might refuse, but I didn't expect you to refuse so decisively, leaving no room whatsoever." "I refuse your inheritance, and I will not compromise to agree to your conditions. Now, we can conclude this meeting. My Young Master is in danger, and I need to provide him with support." "He isn't in any danger." "Hmm?" "Heh." The tusked elder sighed. "Actually, you aren't the first suitable person I've encountered. Long ago, another person came. He was very suitable too, but he also refused. However, he pondered it; he didn't give me an answer as quickly as you did." "I have no interest in hearing your stories. Either stop me or step aside. Do not delay my work." "You want to use a formation to break the curse here? You won't succeed. Do you believe that some existences, even in death, can still continue to exist?" Alfred looked up at the tusked elder and smiled. "I believe it even more than you do, truly." He was currently fretting over the nine empty coffins at home, wondering when they would finally be filled. "A spiritual imprint specifically tasked with maintaining the curse will come to deal with you. You'd better think it through—there is a sequence between me and it." "Mm." Alfred nodded, but had no intention of stopping his hands. The white-robed tusked elder vanished. After a moment, the atmosphere around them suddenly turned heavy and still. Alfred had no choice but to halt his work and look around vigilantly. Then, the figure of an old man in a black robe appeared ahead. He also had a pair of tusks protruding from his mouth, but exuded a sinister, oppressive aura. However, the moment he appeared, his figure flickered, afterimages trailing erratically. When he opened his mouth to speak, the sound was like a bicycle chain jammed into a wheel, producing rapid, harsh grinding noises. Alfred listened intently, but still couldn't make out what he was saying. Fortunately, it was likely just threats and warnings; whether he heard it clearly made no practical difference. The opening remarks finished. Alfred prepared to fight. The black-robed tusked elder raised his hand. In the next moment, Alfred sensed the surrounding space vibrating violently. This was no longer just an illusion; he intended to use the illusion as a medium to deliver a direct psychic shock. Alfred conjured a protective barrier around himself, preparing to withstand the attack. Yet the vibration abruptly stopped. The stop was so sudden that it heightened Alfred's sense of danger, and he immediately added two more layers of defense. The black-robed tusked elder raised his arm again, and the vibration in the surroundings resumed. Alfred focused his mind, on high alert. Then, the vibration stopped once more. The black-robed tusked elder raised his arm a third time. The vibration appeared, but stopped even faster. Alfred frowned slightly. Was the opponent deliberately toying with him, or was this a deeper psychological feint? Of course, there was another possibility, though Alfred felt it was rather too absurd. Yet as the black-robed tusked elder's figure grew fainter and fainter, visibly fading each time he raised his arm to cause a brief tremor... After a dozen or so times, his figure grew blurry, and finally, he couldn't even be seen anymore. Alfred dispelled his outer defenses, still scanning the surroundings with caution. A moment later, in the spot where the black-robed elder had vanished, the white-robed elder appeared once again. The two had entirely different temperaments, and likely different personalities as well. Alfred asked, "What happened to him?" The white-robed tusked elder replied, "Oh, him? He happened to wear down to a critical threshold. Do you understand?" A spiritual imprint worn down to a critical threshold? Alfred asked, "He dissipated?" "Mm, you could say that. He's gone. After all, he was usually the one overseeing this place, wearing away bit by bit every day. "Well, he could have lasted a little longer, but trying to activate his power to control the curse used up the last dregs he had left." "What about you?" "Me? Are you worried about me?" "No, just curious." "I'm fine. Counting this time, I've only appeared twice in the past three hundred years. I'm full of energy." "You won't stop me?" "You now have an extra option compared to before." "An extra option?" "Right. The first option is the same as before: I give you the inheritance, and you carry out the oath to deliver the message." "I'll still refuse." "The second option: I give you the inheritance, and you deliver the message." "Isn't that the same?" "Not the same." "No oath?" The white-robed tusked elder nodded. "I'm only responsible for vetting candidates and passing on the inheritance. The part about binding oaths was handled by that fellow who just dissipated." With that, the white-robed elder even smiled at Alfred. "Why?" Alfred didn't rush to accept in delight, asking instead, "I know a spiritual imprint like you possesses its own intellect and thoughts. So, why?" "Have you seen many spiritual imprints?" "I have." "Then you definitely haven't met one of a higher level than me." When saying this, the white-robed elder puffed out his chest instinctively, showing a hint of pride. "I have." "Huh?" The white-robed elder instantly deflated. "Is that so..." Alfred hadn't seen the spiritual imprint Raniedal left inside the Gate of Samsara, but that Lord Dal was said to have achieved major breakthroughs; if Rielsa hadn't grabbed him and dragged him down into burial, he certainly would have caused quite a stir upon stepping outside. And on the Sacrificial Island, Alfred had witnessed with his own eyes the spiritual imprint left by the Dark Moon Goddess. Those two were actual deities. "Mostly, it's just loneliness and boredom. It was already dull enough, and now that my neighbor is gone, it's even duller. Why should I make things hard for you, right?" "I understand." "Then prepare to receive the inheritance now." "Can we wait a moment? I want to finish setting up the formation first." "It seems your Young Master will always rank first in your heart." "Incorrect. He is above all." "Fine. It doesn't really matter anyway. As long as you don't actively disrupt the curse, no one will harm you. Now that my neighbor is gone, even if you do disrupt the curse, there's no one left to harm you." "Still..." "I have no reason to deceive you, do I?" "Even so, I can't put my mind at ease. I apologize." "Fine, as you wish. But there's something I'm curious about. May I ask you?" "Go ahead." "Did you people calculate the date before coming?" "What?" "If you had come a month earlier, my neighbor could still have stopped you. If you had come a month later, after my neighbor was gone, I probably would have chosen to self-dissipate. And if I were gone, the inheritance would naturally be gone as well. "Not a moment too early, not a moment too late—you arrived right in this month. What a coincidence." Alfred's mind rapidly raced through the key milestones: discovering the clues about Compasini, drawing up the mission plan, determining the mission schedule... "How long ago was that previous visitor you mentioned?" "I certainly can't remember the exact time, but it should be over a hundred years ago." "Over a hundred years ago... What was his name?" "He was a believer of Light, surnamed Philias."