Chapter 124: Eerie Whispers and Temporal Distortion

The turmoil in the city of Solence is gradually subsiding. The auction at the Square Corner Tower will proceed as planned, and the promises Mulan made in the name of the Empire will be honored. At the very least, those who contributed will be noted by the Dielga authorities as having acted in good faith, and they will be granted priority status for the auction—an event for which the Empire will also cover a portion of the costs.

For the outsiders, priority access to the auction is the most practical benefit, and for Mulan, this is a minimal cost. After all, the alchemist Matt is now one of his own; most of the items up for auction are his works or inventory. Whether to grant priority or subsidize the costs is entirely up to Mulan.

Although the Square Corner Tower sustained damage, it was primarily concentrated in the ground floor lobby and the basement; the upper floors remain suitable for the auction.

Just one day later, on the following afternoon, the auction began at the Square Corner Tower, though the original schedule had been scrapped, and Mulan and Matt were not present at the venue.

In the hotel where Mulan was staying, the alchemist Matt, Chris, Fallowlinch, and several members of the Intelligence Division gathered in Mulan’s room. The Avenger was there as well, though he remained stationed outside the door.

When Matt and the others entered, the room still smelled of alcohol and medicinal potions, and, inevitably, a heavy scent of dried blood—the result of Mulan tending to his wounds.

A trash can nearby was filled with blood-stained bandages and cloths, a detail Matt and his companions noted. Mulan, however, sat at the desk, wearing a shirt under his trench coat, writing something intently.

After being led in by the intelligence officers, the group stood a short distance behind Mulan, not daring to disturb him. Mulan was well aware of their presence but did not look up. For a time, the only sound in the room was the scratching of his fountain pen against paper.

"You're here? I am writing an incident report for Her Majesty the Queen and the Black Castle. Please, give me a moment."

"Please, do not mind us. Take your time," Matt replied. The others remained silent.

The report spanned several pages. Mulan provided a summary of the events, detailing not only the incident in Solence but also providing a thorough account of the Silver-Maned Werewolf situation. He did not dwell on his own injuries, mentioning them only in passing; had this been any other imperial noble, their wounds would undoubtedly have been the focus of the report. Mulan knew, however, that the Intelligence Division would have already submitted a detailed account; the Queen would surely be better informed of his condition than he had chosen to write.

After a long while, Mulan set down his pen, stood, and turned to face them. Matt looked as if he wanted to say something, but hesitated. Mulan gave him a slight nod.

"I have included your contributions in the report regarding the response to the terrorists. Especially you, Matt—I believe Her Majesty will be quite interested in an alchemist such as yourself."

"It is my honor to serve the Dielga Empire!" Matt replied, seizing the moment to demonstrate his loyalty. He held his book against his chest and bowed slightly to Mulan. He knew more about the previous day's events than the others, and while he was still bewildered by the details, his wariness of Mulan had deepened.

"Right, there is one thing—I would like to take someone off your hands. Barton. Yes, that is the name I gave him."

Matt, Chris, and the others instinctively looked toward the Avenger standing further away. A happy smile broke across his somewhat dull face—it looked rather unsettling, but it was undoubtedly a smile—and he pointed at his own chest.

"Barton. My name!"

Matt smiled and turned back to Mulan. "To be valued by Lord Mulan is an honor for the Avenger—or rather, for Barton. Oh, by the way..."

Matt pulled back the side of his coat, revealing a dense array of small pouches and test tubes. He retrieved a crystal-clear blue vial and carefully handed it to Mulan.

"The creation of the Avenger is not entirely complete. If he does not receive further treatment after achieving his purpose, his physical form may collapse after some time. This is a solidification potion; it will maintain his form for at least a year. If you want to be free of worry, it is best to perform a true transmutation."

Mulan took the vial, glanced at Barton, and frowned. "Flesh transmutation? Ishald transmutation—or is this one of the forbidden alchemical arts?"

Matt looked at Mulan in surprise. "I did not expect a knight such as yourself to be so well-versed in alchemy. You are correct; it is indeed the forbidden Ishald transmutation. Success is possible, but the difficulty is immense, and the cost is naturally just as high."

Mulan nodded calmly. "You may begin preparations. If conditions allow, I will certainly help Barton become a true person."

"Understood. I will keep that in mind," Matt promised solemnly. He gained a new perspective on this Radiant Knight; it seemed that he was a man who took his promises seriously and possessed profound knowledge—it was said he was a professor at the Black Castle, after all.

Ishald alchemy was a niche field of ancient knowledge. After Ishald founded that school of alchemy, many of its practices were labeled forbidden by the Alchemist Association and Ishald himself. The most notorious was human transmutation, which was unacceptable in terms of both cost and ethics. Being able to identify the term so readily showed that Mulan Jonster possessed no small amount of theoretical and historical knowledge in the field.

Mulan gave further instructions to the intelligence officers and then, acting as an imperial official, explained the rules and benefits for internal supernaturals in Dielga to Matt and his sister, as well as their next steps.

When he had finished, Mulan signaled that they could leave. He turned back to his report, but as they were departing, he added, "Matt, stay for a moment. I just remembered something else I need to discuss with you."

Chris glanced at her brother and looked back at Mulan’s back with a smile. "Perhaps you are mistaken; you should have asked me to stay, not my brother."

"Enough, don't talk nonsense," Matt snapped. Chris, receiving no response from Mulan, stuck out her tongue and followed the others out.

After the door had been closed for some time, Matt waited, but Mulan said nothing. The only sound in the room was the scratching of the pen. Matt waited patiently.

"What are you thinking about?"

"I am..." Matt started to reply, but suddenly realized something. The desk was in the corner; from his position, he could see Mulan’s profile. Mulan had not spoken.

Who had spoken, and where did the voice come from?

Matt frowned, watching Mulan, who acted as if nothing had happened. He chose to remain silent.

"Your emotions seem quite volatile. What is it that you are... suspecting?"

The voice returned. Matt looked around the room, his scalp tingling. This was definitely not an auditory hallucination, and this time, he could recognize the voice—it sounded exactly like his own. Was there some demon here? In the room of a Radiant Knight?

"A demon? Perhaps not?"

"Are you very nervous?"

"Mr. Matt!" "Matt..." "Little Matt..." "Child of the West Ridge family..." "Wild child..."

An array of complex, chaotic voices began to resonate, growing denser by the moment, even beginning to touch upon private memories and shadows from Matt's past.

Matt, having already channeled his magical power, was drenched in cold sweat. He had initially suspected Mulan of playing some trick, but now he felt that something was deeply wrong.

"Lord Mulan! Something is not right here!" Matt finally couldn't help but exclaim.

"Is there a problem, Mr. Matt? My apologies for keeping you waiting for five minutes." Mulan finally set down his pen and turned to look at Matt.

"I... wait, five minutes?"

Matt pulled out his pocket watch. The "eerie whispering" that had felt like an hour had indeed lasted only five minutes.