Chapter Five: The Idol of the Evil God

I absolutely refused to go in and suffer again; in two hours, I was to marry Lamia. I could not let my happiness, so close at hand, be shadowed once more.

I said, “That’s far too risky, especially for two men of your stature and influence. How could you personally step into such danger?”

Michael replied, “You’re an outsider, you have no idea how dull the days inside the Black Coffin are. I’ve racked my brains for a bit of excitement, and now that the opportunity has come, I can’t wait another second.”

He looked like a child who’d discovered a new toy—utterly unpersuadable.

And for me, wasn’t this also a rare chance? These two were the most powerful of the powerful, high officials among high officials. If they sought amusement, why shouldn’t I join them? What harm could it do?

Recalling scenes from the Henry mansion, I believed I could handle this. Even if these two young lords fell under the control of the shadows, I could save them. I doubted they truly had the courage to probe to the end—more likely, they'd be half scared to death before long and give up halfway. My task was simply to see them enter and exit safely; once they had tasted the bitterness, the matter would end, and they would be grateful to me.

Ultimately, all they wanted was a story to boast about to their friends.

Besides, they had promised me a mysterious gift, which truly made my heart race.

I said, “Very well, but you’d best prepare yourselves—wear some bulletproof vests or something.” I was sure bullets would be useless against the shadows, perhaps even harmful, but it was just a precaution.

Michael laughed. “No need, we’ve both learned a few self-defense arts.”

No doubt their so-called self-defense amounted to nothing but showy tricks—but since they were nobles, whatever they said was so.

I took several deep breaths at the mansion’s entrance, using the breathing technique Orchid had taught me to clear my mind and banish fatigue. Then I reached for the door, only to find it wouldn’t budge. I remembered then that Farga had said the door couldn’t be opened until morning.

Michael and Legrand watched me intently, like judges in court. Their gaze made me uneasy—if I couldn’t even open the door, would they take me for a bluffing charlatan?

Gripping the handle again, I couldn’t help recalling, just moments before, how my life had hung by a thread. I seemed to feel my shadow twining around every nerve, every muscle, every vertebra, and the chill that reached deep into my soul.

Michael suddenly exclaimed, “A shadow! Look, Legrand—his shadow!”

Legrand said nothing, but his breathing grew heavier, like a wary wolf.

I saw my shadow stand up and push the door open—a door of darkness swung backwards. I glanced at the two men; they both nodded. We stepped into the haunted house of shadows.

Inside, it was just as bizarre as when I’d left—darkness surged like tides. Michael and Legrand instantly froze, unable to move, and uttered muffled cries, like sleepwalkers mumbling incoherently in their dreams. I saw their shadows coil around them like serpents. Each drew his own weapon—a silver scimitar and a longsword—and stabbed toward his own heart.

I was the only one who could move. I sent my own shadow to seize theirs, wrenching them apart with force. Both men screamed in unison and staggered like roly-poly dolls.

Their shadows whirled and attacked me, moving with unexpected skill—the scimitar slashing horizontally, the longsword thrusting straight. I gave up parrying the sword and raised my dagger to block the scimitar. The sword struck my heart, but the hardening potion saved my life. The scimitar’s blow numbed my arm, and Legrand’s shadow seized me, hurling me hard against the wall—I felt as if I’d crashed into steel, pain exploding in my back.

I struggled to my feet, blood trickling from the corner of my mouth—but I had made an important discovery. I saw a fine thread connecting each man to his shadow, perhaps the source of their shadows’ strength.

I shouted, “You worthless shadows, you’ll never kill me!” They rushed at me, one moving with elegant unpredictability, the other swift and agile—I might have been facing two Lamias. I retreated, keeping my distance, and though their attacks came fast and furious, my instincts as a scavenger made me adept at dodging. They nearly struck me, but always fell just short.

At last, my shadow succeeded—I sent it to sever the fine threads connecting the bodies to their shadows, and it did so. In this room, only a shadow could wound a shadow. Instantly, the two enemy shadows lost their balance and fell, their bodies convulsing violently before vanishing without a trace.

Michael and Legrand steadied themselves; I saw drops of red blood trickle down Michael’s face—it looked like he was hurt. But on closer inspection, it wasn’t a wound—it was red sweat! Michael caught his breath, wiped away the blood with a handkerchief, made a flamboyant gesture, and said with a smile, “Truly magnificent. Splendide.” It sounded like an old French word.

Legrand nodded. “It seems the controlling sorcery is, for now, ineffective.”

Michael said, “We almost died here—this haunted house lives up to its reputation. Even we nearly met our end.”

Legrand asked, “Was it the Rasnar spell?”

Michael replied, “It was indeed Rasnar’s spell, but far more advanced than I’d ever imagined. Remarquable.”

Legrand pointed at me. “But this gentleman can resist Rasnar’s secrets.”

I had no idea what this “Rasnar” was, but I held my head high, feigning confidence. This was my golden opportunity for fame.

Michael grinned. “We’ve found a hidden master.”

I said, “Gentlemen, we should leave now. There’s no telling what other horrors may await.”

Legrand disagreed. “On the contrary, the real show is just beginning.” His eyes gleamed with a strange light as he moved toward the woman’s portrait.

In an instant, we were no longer in the room but on a tranquil meadow, surrounded by birdsong and fragrant flowers, the scenery idyllic—brambles and roses everywhere. A hundred meters away, we saw an altar, and before it sat the woman from the portrait, covered in blood, peacefully dead in her chair. In her hands, she held a statue the size of an apple.

The statue was a curled-up girl, exquisitely made but strangely distorted, as if intentionally carved to obscure her features.

Michael began to tremble—not from fear, but from excitement. He fell to his knees and shouted, “The statue of the goddess Ix! My God, my God! There’s actually a statue of the goddess Ix here?”

Afraid that Michael might lose his mind, I asked Legrand, “What’s wrong with Mr. Michael?”

Legrand answered, “He’s found the treasure he’s long dreamed of.”

Clearly, we had been transported to another dimension, but as long as we took the statue, we could return.

Suddenly Michael dashed for the altar, but a dozen shadows surrounded him. I was shocked and rushed forward to help, but I was too far and too late.

Michael roared, and blood-red armor materialized out of thin air, enclosing his head and body. The shadows’ scythes struck him, but shattered against the armor as if water had struck rock. Michael’s sword flashed—faster than Lamia’s blade—striking three shadows in their vital spots. Here, the shadows seemed solid; they screamed in agony and dropped to their knees.

A chill ran down my spine—I had never expected this seemingly frail young lord to be even more formidable than Lamia or Mircea.

Legrand’s transformation left me even more astonished—he became a black-furred, upright wolf, human in form but with bristling fur like steel wire, much like Vasilisa of the Sword and Shield Society. He threw back his head and howled, then plunged into battle, his claws tearing the shadows to pieces. If Michael was both offense and defense, Legrand was pure destruction—his assault so ferocious that his foes were obliterated before they could react.

More shadows attacked them. Michael laughed loudly and pointed at two shadows, and incredibly, they obeyed his command and turned on their comrades. Legrand grew even faster and stronger—a black gale that swept through the battlefield, felling seven enemies in seconds. Shadows emerged endlessly, encircling the two men.

Michael called out, “Langhi, get the statue! I suspect the two of us can’t break the seal above it!”

I swallowed the Eye of Odin, just in case of an ambush. With the shadows occupied by the two men, my path was clear. When I reached the dead noblewoman, she sat motionless, smiling serenely. I reached for the statue, but found it was only an illusion.

I couldn’t tell how the room’s space shifted, but as with the door before, I sent out my shadow—it touched the statue and lifted it from the corpse.

In the next moment, the scene transformed. Doors appeared, tightly shut, all around the woman, then vanished in an instant—we were back in the haunted house. Faint traces of darkness lingered, like mildew missed in cleaning—a far cry from the previous terror.

Michael dismissed his armor, Legrand returned to human form. Michael’s face was streaked with blood and sweat, while Legrand remained calm and composed. From this, I judged that Legrand was far more battle-hardened than Michael, much more accustomed to fighting.

Michael, his expression cautious, said, “Allow me to see it.” He pulled on a pair of gloves and picked up the statue of the goddess Ix, gazing at it with a look of obsession, scrutinizing every angle and detail. He murmured, “This is an artifact from Maya civilization—the evil goddess Ix, extant since 1000 BC—genuine, without a doubt. Splendide, excellent!”

I sensed a ripple in the air. “Quickly, take the statue and go,” I urged.

Michael retorted anxiously, “Fool! What nonsense! This statue is ancient—once it leaves this house, it will weather away instantly.”

I said, “There’s a shadow’s protection on it—it’s not so fragile.”

Michael’s face turned fearful and uncertain. “If anything happens, how will you compensate me?”

Legrand said, “The statue is bound to the house. If we linger, more ‘guards’ will be alerted—and how much divine blood do you have left?”

Michael replied, “Yes, yes. I have a way.” He pressed his palm, drawing blood, which transformed into a ring of red crystal encircling the statue. Satisfied, he smiled. “Now, my two friends, let’s leave at once, laden with spoils.”