The Beauty of Death and the Weight of Choices
What is death, if not something beautiful? The decision to become a villain or a noble soul lies within oneself, not in the past.
Every choice you make will bring consequences, and in both paths, reactions will follow. Not everyone can be noble. No—some are wretched and vile, reveling in cruelty, taking lives in the most horrific ways. For such a person, there is no distinction between a child, an old man, or a woman. To Amkshorar, all are the same.
One of the infamous quotes of the "Black Devil" echoed through the air, spoken with a blade soaked in crimson tears:
"War is but a deception, and killing is only for satisfaction. Wealth is earned for vanity. How many kings have been betrayed in cold blood? How many brave men have lost their heads over trivial matters? Life is a harsh trial—you must choose wisely."
Sometimes, the heaviest words come from demons, but they must be heard, for within them lies the path to truth.
The sound of raindrops striking New Villette's shoulders mingled with the roaring clash of thunder and the crackling of flames as lightning struck the bleeding tree.
Barely able to stand, New Villette staggered left and right, gripping the knife embedded in his chest. Without hesitation, he pulled it out in front of everyone, yet no one reacted.
Instead, they applauded his bravery—his strength—for ridding them of the monster that had terrorized them for years. None of them knew his true identity, hidden beneath the mask. Blood flowed freely from his wounds, but despite the exhaustion, he stood tall, like a lone wolf.
Mayor Ivan Collins extended his hand, shaking his with gratitude.
"You have done something incredible, Detective New Villette. You have freed the world from this ruthless murderer."
A part of New Villette's face was visible due to the damage inflicted upon him by the killer. He smiled—a hollow, empty smile—and replied with an indifferent tone:
"It was nothing. This was for the good of London and its people. A necessary deed to rid the world of a long-standing evil."
The mayor closed his eyes momentarily before speaking in a low, unsettling voice:
"The situation is dire now, but we will honor you in due time, Detective. First, we must clean up this chaos and deal with the corrupt officials who perished."
Fatigue weighed heavily on New Villette as he replied with deceptive calm:
"Many have died—inside and out. But in the end, we rid the world of his evil. I shall take my leave now. Until we meet again, Mayor."
He stepped away, his body weary. Calling upon Cloud of Mystery, a horse shrouded in enigma, the creature materialized before him. As he mounted, the horse turned its gaze toward the mayor and wept… tears of blood.
As they rode away, New Villette spoke, questioning the gaps in his own understanding.
"I know you. You understand me. You are no ordinary horse. You seem to have known me for a long time. But when you looked at the mayor, why did you cry blood?"
The horse stopped abruptly, releasing a terrifying sound—a mix of sorrow and rage. At that moment, the world around New Villette turned black.
A fragmented vision flashed before him—the mayor, just moments ago when they shook hands. A twisted, horrific glimpse: the mayor holding a man's head in his bare hands, tearing it from his body with inhuman strength.
Reality snapped back into place.
New Villette ran a trembling hand through his hair, drenched in rain, his breath unsteady.
The horse's piercing gaze spoke volumes: "Do you understand now?"
He grasped the horse's mane, nodding as he whispered, "I understand, Cloud of Mystery."
Upon reaching his dreary residence, New Villette entered his office, stripping off his bloodstained clothes and donning a fresh black shirt tucked into dark trousers.
As he sank into the couch, he sensed an unseen presence in the room. A voice emerged from the darkness.
"Greetings, eldest hunter. How have you been?"
His eyes flicked toward the opposite chair. There sat Leofuine Raven, the priest.
Caught off guard, German—for that was New Villette's true name—spoke cautiously.
"How did you know I was here, Leofuine Raven?"
The priest crossed one leg over the other, smiling charmingly.
"Nothing special. I came to assist in your investigation."
Irritation flickered in German's gaze as he retorted, "And who told you I needed help?"
A hand rested on his shoulder. A voice, smooth and knowing, followed.
"I did, you fool."
Beside Leofuine Raven sat the enigmatic Red Crow.
German let out a dry laugh. "It seems every misfortune in my life is somehow tied to you, Red Crow."
The priest, eyes closed in a feigned smile, interjected.
"German, the path ahead will not be easy. You will need help—not just mine. There is another beside you who is willing to assist."
German smirked knowingly, glancing to his right.
"I knew she was here all along, but she remained silent."
A soft hand grasped his, filled with warmth. Eleanora Nomen, his beloved, gazed at him with deep affection. He returned the sentiment, a love unshaken by the tides of fate.
With a gentle smile, she spoke, "My dear warrior, we know you love working alone, but perhaps you need someone as beautiful as me to assist you."
They both laughed, their connection unbreakable.
Turning to the two men, German declared firmly, "It seems I have no choice. This place is now yours, my friends—except for Lady Nomen, of course. This is her castle."
He continued, his tone commanding, "But as for the investigations, leave them to me. Is that clear?"
Leofuine Raven's eyes gleamed. "Understood, eldest hunter. A greater danger looms ahead, and we are here to aid you. Many demons wander this vast world—you, more than anyone, should know this, as the Master of Mystery."
German pondered the priest's words, sensing their connection to the Bloody Memoir.
"The memoir speaks of a devil. But who is this devil? And why does it say, 'I and the devil'?"
A piercing gaze from Red Crow met his. A telepathic voice echoed in his mind.
"You've grasped the essence of the priest's words, haven't you?"
German's eyes widened slightly, surprised by the sudden mental connection.
"Every day, you reveal something new. Will you bring the Crimson One tomorrow, or is there another layer to this riddle?"
A melodic voice broke his thoughts.
"Shall we play chess once our discussion is over?"
He turned to Eleanora, raising a playful brow.
"Do you truly believe you can win?"
Her smile was radiant. "Perhaps I might best the Master of Mystery."
Laughter filled the dimly lit room as they exchanged knowing glances.
The moment was interrupted by Leofuine Raven's solemn tone.
"What are your next plans, eldest hunter? What will you do?"
German met his gaze and answered with quiet certainty.
"I just eliminated a serial killer. You already know the details. There's nothing more to say."
Leofuine let out a light chuckle and said,
"That's right. We know that."
German leaned forward slightly, pressing his ten fingers together.
"The mayor is going to honor me for what I did today against the murderer, but I don't know when exactly. Once I'm done with the ceremony, we'll discuss the crimes."
A knock echoed through the room. German motioned for the visitor to enter. A guard stepped in, his eyes widening in surprise at the guests before him.
"Apologies, sir. I didn't realize you had company."
German's gaze shifted between the guard and his guests, his thoughts twisting in curiosity.
"The guard sees them… but can't perceive the Red Raven?"
Raising his right hand, he gestured for the guard to proceed.
"Go ahead. Speak your news."
The guard nodded and unfolded a letter.
"This is a special notice from Mayor Ivan Collins. Your honor ceremony will take place the day after tomorrow at exactly ten o'clock at the Political Palace."
He handed the letter to German and then exited the room.
Leofuine Raven stood up, his eyes drifting toward the pale moon.
"We shall meet again, Master of Mysteries. When new developments arise, we will be by your side."
A crimson mist swirled around Leofuine, consuming his form until he vanished entirely.
Elianora Nomin embraced her husband, whispering into his ear,
"I'll be at our home. Let me know when the hunt and the killings take another turn—I do love them so."
And with that, she too disappeared.
The room grew unbearably heavy. The presence of the Red Raven lingered like an unseen force pressing against the walls. German's sharp gaze locked onto him.
"The Raven… the Raven… You enigmatic being, who are you?"
The Red Raven lit a cigarette, exhaling a slow stream of smoke as he watched the rain drizzle beyond the window. A mysterious smirk curled at his lips.
"No one. If you are the Master of Mysteries, then I am the Sovereign of Mysteries."
His voice grew lower, filled with an unsettling certainty.
**"Everything is unfolding according to a meticulous design. I told you before, but let me repeat it with absolute clarity: Nothing that happens to you—no matter how trivial or intricate—is mere coincidence. It was all decided beforehand.
Now, you have two choices. Resist it, struggle against it, and try to change your fate… or surrender to it and follow the path laid before you without hesitation.
The final decision is yours alone."**
German stood in the dimly lit room, his silhouette merging with the shadows. Wisps of cigarette smoke still lingered in the air, dissipating like fleeting memories. A faint wind whispered through the open window, as if carrying secrets from a forgotten past.
Slowly, he donned his mask. The cold leather against his skin was a constant reminder of his inescapable solitude.
In a voice barely above a whisper, he mused,
"Sovereign or Master… they all fall before the Jester."
Though his words echoed in the emptiness, they carried the weight of an undeniable truth. His eyes drifted toward the vacant couch, its emptiness as vast as a barren desert. His mind wandered through unfinished memories.
"She left… and we never played chess."
A long sigh escaped his lips, as if releasing the burdens shackling his soul. His body collapsed onto the couch, bearing the weight of every battle he had fought.
Darkness pulled him under swiftly, but his mind refused to rest. Thoughts of the trials awaiting him loomed over his slumbering body like specters of the unknown.
"The calm before the storm."
Two hours later, he awoke to a different reality.
He was no longer in his room, but in the Infinite Table of the Cosmic Void. The jester sat on a high-backed chair, as if it were a throne of destiny itself. Before him stood a man and a woman, their faces concealed behind masks of jesters—mere fragments of his fragmented consciousness.
The man spoke first, his voice low yet heavy with meaning.
"A killer who strikes at random… yet with precision… at a specific time… in a designated place… Can you catch him?"
The jester's lips curled into a slow smile—one tainted with the ghosts of dark knowledge.
"No. Such a person follows the principle of deception, challenging individuals, society, and politics alike… And behind such a killer, there are demons pulling the strings."
The woman, her voice laced with intrigue and mockery, asked,
"And how do you follow someone who adheres to a singular pattern?"
The jester's answer came like a melody of intricate notes.
"By following the same pattern."
His grin deepened, slicing through the tense silence in the room.
The woman returned his smile, though doubt flickered in her tone.
"And will that truly lead you to him? Won't he feel the footsteps of someone mirroring his own path?"
The jester extended his hand across the table as if tracing the boundaries of power.
**"A short-range hand causes no disturbance… but a long-range hand creates chaos.
In my method, I begin with small steps… then I play my trump card."**
The man revealed two objects in his hands and turned to the jester.
"The difficult choice of solving the crime… or the intricate, verbal, and tactical path of luring the killer into the depths of his own cage?"
The jester's grin widened, his mind dancing along the edge of madness.
**"The intricate path—the one that forces the killer to come to you, because he has no escape.
That is why… he will always feel watched. His sleep will turn into a personal hell, tormenting him every night."**
The man and woman, as if bound by the same unseen thread, asked in unison,
"And can the Master of Mysteries capture such a genius?"
The jester rose from his seat, his gaze piercing the cosmic abyss where distant galaxies shimmered like diamonds in the crown of night.
His voice, brimming with pride and arrogance, declared:
**"I can seize even the galaxies themselves.
How, then, could I fail to capture a mere mortal?"**
His words rose, carving themselves into the eternal records of the cosmos.