Hate me, Miss Witch!

The glow of the magictech lamp shone upon the text of that unassuming tome.

Shiayar closed the book in silence, his eyes vacant as he stared at the pure white ceiling. What the hell.

In front of Shiayar, the young girl in a black dress stiffened slightly. Then she lightly covered her mouth and let out a laugh like tinkling silver bells. "Dear guest, although it doesn't bother me much, swearing in my shop carries a fine, you know?"

I wasn't cursing at you… I was cursing at some goddamn thing. That damned thing really screwed me over.

Shiayar's mood was complex.

Every word and sentence written in black and white in the unassuming book before him tied all of Shiayar's previous clues and speculations together.

If Shiayar could explain bringing a Pet Beast like Crimson from an Echo of History into reality using theories of parallel dimensions or microcosms, that was one thing. Then there was the System's Historical Legend Rank—'The Forgotten by the Years.' This, too, could be barely explained as something akin to a trophy or achievement after completing a game, not necessarily holding any real significance.

But with the evidence now collected from the Dark Shadow Council, all the clues and indications pointed towards that one answer.

The so-called 'Echo of History' was not at all what Shiayar initially understood it to be—historical afterimages, illusions reappearing, or things from other parallel worlds. Rather, it was a piece of true history that occurred in the past of the current world's timeline.

Why did most evil cults maintain tacit understandings among each other, yet the Ashes Cult and the Twilight Cult ended up fighting in Holy Calendar Year 350? Of course, it was because just four years earlier, in Holy Calendar Year 346, Shiayar, in the Azure Garden Dukedom, had nearly seen the Twilight Half-Body revived only to bury it back into the ground. On top of that, he also unleashed all the Divinity and fragments of Authority that had accumulated in that half-body.

In the final moments, the Twilight Half-Body sensed the presence of the Lord of Ashes from Shiayar's Amaterasu and thereby confirmed Shiayar's identity. For those Fabled Creatures, the theft of Divinity was a grudge comparable to the murder of one's parents—it demanded vehement retaliation.

Even now, the members of the Twilight Cult probably still believed that the Shiayar of the past was a secret weapon, honed and cultivated by the Lord of Ashes himself, specifically to undermine their efforts. And the evil followers of the Ashes Cult were likely just as bewildered.

Even if some among them were skilled at divination, who could have anticipated that five hundred years later, they would lose a contaminated fragment of a left finger bone in a riot, and that this very object would appear five hundred years prior?

HISS— The karma I've created seems significant.

Shiayar took in a sharp breath. The rest wasn't too hard to explain; after all, in the Echo of History, he hadn't made contact with many people. Norton, whom he had slightly more dealings with, was now long dead and buried, the grass over his grave already more than two meters tall. Only Silvia... Though all he did was from good intentions, he had indeed played with her feelings twice. In the end, to help her survive better in the chaotic world of Calamity Land, he had planted within Silvia's memory a deep-seated hatred for himself. And according to the history of the current timeline, Silvia had indeed achieved a Legendary title. If she really came seeking revenge… wouldn't his frail body be at her mercy?

Shiayar exhaled a turbid breath, forcing himself to calm down. Actually, it's highly unlikely for that situation to occur; I might be worrying over nothing here.

Firstly, it's been over five hundred years since 'Gray-Silver Witch' Silvia was last seen on the Western Continent. Even judged by Legendary lifespans, this is an exceedingly long period—perhaps she has already passed away, or like other missing Legends, she might have gotten lost in the dimensional rifts, never to return. Secondly, even if the Gray-Silver Witch really were still on the Western Continent, compared to five hundred years of time, the few years of experience from her youth would be but a drop in the ocean. It's like middle-aged people recalling the sworn loves of their youth with nothing but a faint smile. Lengthy time can dilute many things, and Legends, who stand taller than ordinary people, see a broader scene and world. After over five hundred years, their Divinity would likely overwhelm their humanity. The separations and losses that are significant in the eyes of mortals may have been witnessed by those Legends countless times over, no longer capable of stirring any waves in their hearts. Thus, the short experiences of less than a year from her youth might seem to the current Gray-Silver Witch as mere child's play, barely worth her concern. Thinking this way, I might actually be able to take advantage of that period of time to gain some benefits from the White Tower under the guise of a reincarnated identity or something similar.

However, the thought of the innocent girl who used to call him 'Brother Shiayar', who was as docile as a cat by his side, and who had now become an unapproachable figure above the clouds, indifferent to all life—stirred a faint melancholy in the depths of Shiayar's heart. This must be the complexity of the human heart.

He gathered his emotions again and refocused, only to find the girl in the black dress staring intently at his profile. Shiayar coughed lightly.

"Then let's spend the remaining credit as well."

"I want to confirm the exact connection between the disaster in Ceylon and the 'Crimson Rose' Borgia family."

"Possible."

The girl in the black dress tapped lightly in midair, and another unassuming book suddenly appeared in the night. "I just received detailed information; the intelligence level has been updated. From 'Knell of the Saint' to 'Angel of Death', the total value is four thousand Rhine gold coins."

Shiayar put away the book, his face suddenly darkening. "Is my credit limit insufficient?"

"Correct. So now you owe the Dark Night Council two thousand Rhine gold coins. Our store does not accept credit. Of course, for our highest-level clients, we definitely won't employ the crude methods of liquidation we use on lower-level clients."

The girl in the black dress lifted her chin, a hint of a smile seeming to appear in her illusory and hazy eyes obscured by the night. "Work at the Dark Shadow Council for a week, and consider your debt paid. With this price, you could hire a Peak 5-Ring Beastmaster in the black market. What do you think?"

"I admit that the price is tempting—but I refuse. I'd rather pay."

Shiayar sighed and took out a few banknotes from his nearly empty pockets. After realizing the banknotes were not of sufficient value, Shiayar also hastily cashed in some surplus Extraordinary tools he had prepared earlier, finally settling the two thousand Rhine gold coins.

After paying, he grabbed Enola, who was beside him, and turned to leave, quickly departing from the Dark Night Garden.

The girl in the black dress did not stop them. She simply sat beside the dining table, silently watching the figures of Shiayar and Enola as they left. Her eyes, shrouded in darkness, flickered with a complex and indiscernible emotion.

A good while later, the person in charge of this Dark Night Garden finally entered without a sound. He stood to the side and slowly spoke, "Lady Augutina, they have left. You seemed quite concerned about them."

The person in charge, a figure of Peak 5-Ring status, spoke with extreme reverence, carefully probing the thoughts of his superior. "You see, should we have someone follow them in secret…"

"No need…" The hoarse and languid voice echoed in the silent dining room.

The figure woven from the night and shadows stretched out a bit. Under the intricate layers of her black dress, a slender and graceful silhouette was outlined, as if she were a queen reigning over the night and secrets.

"Besides, unless it's someone of Titled Rank specialized in stealth, even if you went yourself, you'd just end up getting trapped and killed by him."

"As you say, my lady." The director felt a cold sweat slide down his forehead but dared not say any more.

Although in his heart, the idea of him, a Peak 5-Ring, tracking a young man not even at 4-Ring seemed a gross misuse of talent. As for being trapped and killed, that was nothing short of a fantastical tale; while he was a Great Beastmaster, he wasn't prone to such fatal underestimations.

However, in front of this person whose words could determine his life and fate, he naturally didn't dare express any opposition. The director waited in silence, and just as sweat was about to uncontrollably slide down, he heard the person before him speak again.

The voice was still hoarse and lazy. In contrast to the previous silvery voice of a young girl, it carried an undeniable authority. "Regarding him and the girl by his side—as of this moment, classify them as 'Prometheus' Level. Apart from me, all high-ranking members of the council are forbidden from accessing it, and it is also forbidden to be sold to any outsiders."

Astonishment and shock crossed the director's eyes. Nearly all clients of the Dark Shadow Council believed that 'Angel of Death,' representing the possible involvement of a Demigod, was the council's highest intelligence level. However, only those like him, with the authority to manage a branch and who had truly entered the Dark Shadow Council's upper echelons, knew the truth: above 'Angel of Death,' there was another level. 'Prometheus' Level. Or, as it was also known, 'Fire Thief' Level.

This was a rank personally established by the leader of the Dark Shadow Council, Augutina. It is said that its meaning was derived from an ancient myth: a deity named Prometheus stole the divine fire from the heavens and brought it to mankind. This angered the gods. They bound him with unbreakable chains to a steep cliff, fastening him with diamond nails through his chest. It was a fate where he could never sleep, his tired knees never bend, and an eagle would peck at his liver every day. His liver, eaten by day, would grow back by night.

This myth originated from Lady Augutina herself, and no one knows its true origin. 'Angel of Death' symbolizes a Demigod, while 'Prometheus' signifies the wrath of the gods.

With the director's authority, he didn't even know how many 'Prometheus' Level intelligence reports the Dark Shadow Council held, but he was certain this was the first time he had witnessed the creation of intelligence at this tier.

Merely—for two young people who, at this moment, were not even at 4-Ring.

The director hid his astonishment and shock, respectfully nodding his head. "Understood."