Chapter 465: Your Ashes Have Been Scattered

Chapter 465: Your Ashes Have Been Scattered

The yellow-robed cultists walked the streets in the dead of night. 

Hank had always thought they were just scary stories made up by drunk people with nothing better to do. But tonight, he saw with his own eyes a procession of yellow-robed figures gliding through the darkened streets.

They moved with an eerie lightness, as if carried by a gentle breeze. Without closely observing their feet, they appeared like neatly arranged ghosts floating across the empty roads. Listening carefully, Hank could hear them humming the same strange song as the vagrant from earlier - something about clouds, twins, and a black star.

Hank froze, his heart racing faster than normal. He had expected something to happen, but the robed figures simply passed by calmly without even glancing at him. He could only watch as their silhouettes disappeared into the dim, deserted streets.

"What strange people," he thought to himself, not daring to say it aloud. He took a few more steps forward, unconsciously humming the unfamiliar melody.

"Along the shore, parting the clouds, the twin suns sink into the lake, long shadows fall, on that wondrous night when the black star rises..."

At first, he didn't think anything of it. But after finishing the full verse, his face turned pale. A cold sweat broke out on his back as he shuddered. His eyes darted around fearfully before he took off running blindly through the darkness.

When Hank's legs ached and he was gasping for breath, nearly tripping, he finally stopped. Looking up, he saw another tattered yellow robe before him. Unlike before, this was just a single figure, not a group of cultists.

Fighting back his fear, Hank stepped back against the cold wall, keeping his head down as he waited for the yellow-robed cultist to pass. But the ragged figure slowly approached, passing by without a sound or word.

Hank caught a whiff of a strange scent. His hands involuntarily clutched at his own throat, his face turning a deep red. His legs struggled desperately, but his hands only tightened their grip. Finally, he stopped struggling and slumped lifelessly against the wall.

This scene terrified a vagrant watching from beneath a nearby streetlight. He quickly averted his gaze, curling up and trembling uncontrollably. The yellow-robed figure drifted on through the night without approaching.

...

"We've finally caught you!" a harsh voice cried out, accompanied by several bright lights.

The yellow-robed figure stood silently in the glare, surrounded by fully-equipped Machinery of Heart members.

"We've been watching you for a long time!"

"For the past two weeks, you've been coming out at night in that yellow robe to commit crimes!"

"John 14 days ago, old Barton 8 days ago, and Hank today - you've killed three people in a row!"

Faced with these accusations, the figure in the tattered yellow robe looked slightly panicked, but let out a cold laugh. "You dare to blaspheme the great King in Yellow?"

"Nonsense! We've uncovered your true identity, Steven Parker. You're an ex-con released from the Dock Ward just last April."

"You were originally sentenced to 10 years for theft, but someone paid to reduce your sentence. You only served 2 years before being released."

"Since then, you've been wandering around the Dock Ward and South Bridge area. You're currently living in the third bridge arch downstream from Beckland Bridge."

One of the Machinery of Heart members laid out Steven Parker's background in detail.

With his true identity exposed, Steven Parker finally panicked, but still snarled defiantly: "I am the lord of the Black Star, I am the direction all faith follows, I am the King in Yell-"

Before he could finish, his body crumbled into dust where he stood, leaving only the tattered yellow robe as evidence that a person had been there moments ago.

Two Machinery of Heart members cautiously approached. Inside the yellow robe, they found only a pile of pure white bone ash. Under the light of their lamps, the ash gleamed with an eerie sheen.

Suddenly, a gust of wind swirled through, scattering the bone ash. The yellow robe billowed upwards, filled with air, and floated higher and higher before disappearing into the night.

Was this merely a coincidence? Steven Parker's strange death and the scattering of his ashes happened in just a few brief moments.

The four Machinery of Heart members felt chills run down their spines, as if unseen eyes were watching them from the shadows.

Was this divine punishment for impersonating the King in Yellow? Or had hidden cultists eliminated the impostor to defend their deity's honor?

"Let's... let's go," one of them said.

The four Machinery of Heart members didn't linger. The criminal was dead, right before their eyes. How and by whose hand no longer mattered. In this world of mysteries, supernatural phenomena often defied understanding.

The beggar huddled under the streetlight shuddered in terror, clutching his ragged coat as he fled towards a nearby church.

The deep night gradually returned to its usual quiet serenity under the starry sky.

The Tussock River flowed sinuously, its waters not particularly clear but still reflecting pinpricks of starlight. A mist hung over nighttime Beckland, with dim yellow orbs floating along the dark streets like anglerfish lures.

The yellow-robed cultists who had been walking the streets gathered on the east bank of the Tussock River. They extinguished their lamps, leaving only starlight to illuminate everything.

Figures lined up along the riverbank, gazing reverently at the starlight on the water as they began to worship and praise. The process was orderly, with only faint chanting breaking the silence.

On the river's surface, nothing changed except the swaying of water plants in the current. The cultists' faces showed no disappointment - they were used to this. No one knew if or how their deity might manifest. Their devout worship was merely an attempt to increase the minuscule chance, to add even the tiniest non-zero digit after an endless string of zeros.

As they were about to conclude the night's activities, the entire starlit river surface suddenly came alive. Starlight flooded the water. The stars hidden in the depths seemed to defy gravity, slowly rising from the riverbed.

But this change lasted only a moment before the starlight faded once more. It meant their deity had appeared tonight, though they were not fated to see it. Whenever the god walked the world at night, the stars descended with it, bringing endless radiance.

Darkness would eventually disperse as a new day began its cycle.

Leonard woke with a slightly heavy, dizzy head. After washing up in the bathroom, he gradually recalled the details of last night's drinking.

"I didn't say anything stupid last night, did I?" he muttered to his reflection. "Did I? I wouldn't have been dumb enough to tell Hastur about that night, would I?"

After talking to himself in the mirror for a bit, Leonard got dressed and left. He bought a sandwich and milk for breakfast on his way to the office.

He had barely sat down at his desk when a subordinate brought him a report from the Machinery of Heart team.

"Hah, someone was actually stupid enough to impersonate the King in Yellow. Don't they know to maintain reverence for unknown mystical beings?" Leonard scoffed, but read through the report carefully.

"Weigh the pros and cons, handle it yourself..." He seemed to understand the true meaning of those instructions now.

The higher-ups weren't telling him to slack off, but to decide how to handle things based on the specific situation. It was best to avoid conflict when possible, but they needed to step in and deal with incidents that cost lives, to prevent things from escalating.

"Looking at it this way, this King in Yellow entity doesn't seem as vicious and evil as imagined. There's a fundamental difference compared to the Fallen Creator worshipped by those Aurora Order lunatics."

Leonard had a general idea of how to approach the Yellow phenomenon now.

After finishing his immediate tasks, he left the office and took a carriage to St. Samuel's Cathedral. It couldn't hurt to consult Archbishop Anthony first.

As he stepped down from the carriage and was about to enter the cathedral doors, the usually silent old man suddenly spoke: "There's an ancient aura."

"??"

Leonard's body tensed briefly before he quickly regained his composure. His gaze sharpened like a hawk's, alert and focused, in contrast to his previous casual demeanor.

Pretending to adjust his clothes, he discreetly scanned the surroundings. Besides the cathedral priests, there were only worshippers coming to pray. He recognized some of them, having spent a fair amount of time at St. Samuel's before.

Meanwhile, Klein, who had come to St. Samuel's for his regular prayers, also noticed Leonard straightening his clothes near the entrance.

An untucked white shirt paired with straight-leg trousers and a black vest - casual with a hint of recklessness.

Klein only glanced briefly before averting his gaze, though he couldn't help but think: "Running into him here today, what a coincidence. I thought he'd moved out of the North Borough."

But he had no intention of greeting Leonard. Maintaining a polite smile, Klein walked naturally past him, golden-inlaid cane in hand.