A Tale of Forgotten Gods

Chapter 125: Secret Organization

As Murphy Law entered the secret basement, he raised a gloved hand to his face and gripped the edge of the Mask of Abyss and pulled it cleanly away.

His facial structure, eyes, and musculature shifted back with a quick, silent crunch. The mask dissolved into thin air, slipping effortlessly back into the depths of the spirit world.

Returning to his true identity as Mo Fei, he let out a long breath, allowing his rigid detective posture to relax into a natural stride.

The door behind him clanged shut, cutting off the muffled noises of the celebratory crowds on the streets of Ciradyl.

Reaching up to his ears, he gently adjusted his two mismatched earrings, one the sacred heirloom given to him by Kiyori and the second artifact that served as Jian Yue’s Embodiment. The subtle weight of the anchor gave him a small sense of security against the heavy air of the underground base.

He examined the basement corridor of the Midnight Wings, which was constructed from bricks, and it looked similar to the defensive bastions of the orthodox churches. The air down here smelled of spilled black coffee and damp parchment.

He looked at the gas lamps encased in protective brass grilles, all of them were lined up in every few paces, flickering from time to time.

As Mo Fei walked further into the corridor, he suddenly felt an unmistakable prickling sensation on his skin.

Although he didn’t need to look up to know that the walls were embedded with mystical warding talismans, since it had been similar to a spiritual presence.

Invisible eyes, could be called as the spiritual sentries of the Midnight Wings, were watching his every movement. They were examining his spiritual presence to ensure he wasn’t carrying a corruptive cosmic curse.

It was a highly organized system after all, a dark mirror to the constabulary’s own anti-occult divisions.

At the end of the long hallway, a large doorway led into a communal office.

On several desks were resting mechanical typewriters, handwritten case files, and half-empty iron inkwells.

A few internal operatives, the ’crows’ of the organization, were quietly working under the dim gaslight. In a brief look, they were wearing practical, dark trench coats, although their eyes carried the weariness of someone who constantly stared into the madness of the dark.

Sitting behind a counter at the back of the room was a man in his early forties, cleaning the lens of a spectacle with a silk cloth. The nameplate on his desk read: Supervisor Hugh Atson.

Hearing Mo Fei’s approaching footsteps, Hugh Atson carefully placed the spectacles back into his eye. ”You must be... Sherlock Hermès?”

Mo Fei nodded at his words and stopped near the desk.

”You’re late, Mr. Sherlock.” Hugh mumbled in a flat, controlled tone. He tapped a fat stack of documents regarding local anomalies.

Mo Fei stopped before the counter, keeping his expression entirely neutral. He knew that was the true evaluation. To survive among the Midnight Wings, he couldn’t act like a frightened civilian, nor could he display the reckless arrogance of a rogue Ascended. He had to behave like an experienced, calculating scholar of the occult.

”I came because I was promised an audition with Benson Helbert. I have an urgent interest in the historical records of True God Descents... and the current shipping routes leading to the Bloodborne Sea. Including some of the information about that sea.”

Hugh’s fingers froze over his paperwork for a moment. The ambient shadows in the corner of the room seemed to deepen slightly as if they were reacting to Mo Fei’s mention of the forbidden sea.

”The Bloodborne Sea is a restricted operational zone for anyone below Ordinal Seven.” Hugh muttered and narrowed his eyes while leaning forward.

”That sea is entirely bound in chaos; without an experienced Ascended and good boat captain, it’s impossible to go there. If you want additional information, then Captain Benson is waiting for you in the inner sanctuary. Go through the third door on the left.”

Mo Fei nodded slightly, then turned away from the counter and walked toward the short intersecting corridor.

He stopped before the third door on the left and raised his hand and knocked firmly.

Knock, knock-knock.

The door groaned and turned, slid down, and opened on its own. The opened door exposed a grand hall.

A vast room lined from floor to ceiling with towering bookshelves, leather-bound grimoires, and rolled maps. At the far end, Benson Helbert sat down on his chair. The leader of the Midnight Wings was an imposing man in his late fifties with brown eyes, a typical-looking man without a beard.

Today, he wore a usual high-collared captain’s coat, and a newspaper lay on the table.

”Welcome, Sherlock Hermès.” Benson spoke softly in his deep, tired tone.

When Mo Fei stepped in, the door closed behind him. He walked toward the desk, trying to keep an entirely unbothered expression.

His gaze lay on Mo Fei’s two mismatched earrings. ”So you have decided to join.” Benson muttered and put the newspaper down, then leaned forward and crossed his fingers.

”Yes, I need money to survive. Alongside that, I would like to know more about Bloodborne Sea.”

Hearing that term, Benson’s eyes lingered on the young man before closing and whispering to him. ”You might not know what resides in those waters? The conceptual distortions there can drive an Ordinal Eight mad in minutes. Why do you seek that?”

Mo Fei locked his eyes onto the captain. ”Because... something I can’t explain.”

Benson stared at him for a long time. A slow smile finally broke through him. ”A dangerous gamble. I respect your choice, Mr. Sherlock, but I must say that if you aren’t Ordinal seven, then it’d just be a suicide. What might be your Ordinal?”

Mo Fei stepped toward a wooden chair, but the moment his finger brushed against it, the exhaustion broke through. The True God’s gaze earlier today, combined with the rapid shift of his persona and the dense atmosphere of the underground base, had finally pushed his physical vessel to its absolute limit. His vision blurred for a few seconds.

Thump.

Mo Fei collapsed into the chair, his chin dropping to his chest as his consciousness rapidly plummeted into an inescapable trance.

”Mr. Hermès?” Benson’s voice sounded miles away from reaching him.

A few moments later, Mo Fei lifted his head up and shook his head, then looked at the man in front of him, whose expression showed a bit of concern.

Mo Fei scratched his head, but as he didn’t find his familiar ponytail, his hand only moved through air as he spoke. ”I’m just tired; I didn’t sleep last night. I’m an Ordinal Ten.”

Hearing that excuse, Benson nodded once and unwrapped his fingers. ”Now, let’s discuss.”

Mo Fei gestured to him to continue as Benson’s hand dropped to the newspaper and he continued. ”As Midnight Moon, your rank is that of a newly recruited members.”

Benson looked at Mo Fei, whose current state seemed to be any average Ascended of his rank, but his mind shifted back to the sudden spiritual explosion in the morning as he thought. ’He looks normal... that spiritual explosion which occurred in the morning couldn’t be him; then whose was it?’

”What do I have to do then?” Mo Fei asked.

Benson: ”For your rank, you will do support and can do some low-rank missions alone. Even for them, we will give you good income.”

”Good then, I’m willing.”

Benson gave him a small nod before speaking again. ”Go to the old man, Old Bai Zhu Ying, in the library; he will give you your card. You can read a few books there, a few scriptures of the various Gods’ churches to understand powers.”

Mo Fei stood from his table, bowed once, then moved toward the library.

In just a few minutes, he reached the library and entered inside, where a man stood in the center, mixing something with a lab tube.

Mo Fei called out suddenly. ”Old Bai.”

Upon hearing that, Old Bai flinched, and the potion bottle exploded into thick black mist. His hand slipped as the broken glass fell on the ground, and he stepped back while rubbing his head back and forth, but that didn’t annoy him.

The old man turned and saw the young adult standing behind with a silent look.

”You?”

Mo Fei spoke. ”Sherlock Hermès.”

Seeing a new member, old Bai grinned slightly then walked toward him. ”Ah, welcome, child. How do I help?”

”The card, and one more thing...”

A few minutes later, while they discussed, Old Bai prepared a card for Mo Fei and gave it to him.

Mo Fei looked at the card in dim lantern light, the golden edges and black colour of the card giving it an old-fashioned side but a unique kind of aesthetic. Finally, he spoke again while looking at the books in the library. ”Is there any book related to some kind of... luck enhancement ritual?”

The Old Bai laughed at his words and patted his shoulder before giving him a thumbs up. ”I understand you want to increase your luck, but bad luck is persistent only when you believe it to be. As for the book, I’ll search for it.”

Mo Fei shrugged and watched him search for a book related to the ritual. After a few minutes passed, only then did the old man’s hand find a book, and he grabbed it and spoke. ”I couldn’t find one, but this has the mention of a luck-based ritual.”

Mo Fei took the book which was titled as ’The Primordial Prefect of Eternal Night.’

He looked at the black cover and silver title which was exactly similar name as the one be had heard in Qinghua. ’Maybe I’ll know more about the luck enhancement ritual; maybe I can return home.’