Lord of Mysteries: Return of the Stars!

"Heh. If you were me, would you believe that? Weaving deadly traps from light words, isn't that what you're best at?"

Bernadette no longer responded to the Son of Chaos.

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Top-heavy and light-footed, his head felt like mush, shake it too much and it might just solidify completely.

That was Hastur's most immediate sensation. He supported himself on the desk to stand, stumbled along the wall to the door, and staggered back to his bedroom.

"I shouldn't have rushed to whip the Son of Chaos."

Hastur gave a bitter laugh and collapsed onto the soft blanket.

He had already expended a considerable amount of spiritual energy by entering the Hall of Stars in a star spirit form through a ritual. Then he used up even more formulating a new rule.

And yet he insisted on whipping the Son of Chaos once more, pushing his spiritual power past the limit. His head now felt as heavy as mercury and lead, throbbing painfully.

But if he hadn't done it, he would've felt incomplete.

Tsk. If it needed to be done, it needed to be done.

After some aimless musing, Hastur fell asleep.

The next morning, sunlight streamed through the sheer curtains, gilding his blond hair, almost blinding him.

He covered his eyes with his right hand to block the dazzling light and glanced at the time. It was already 9:43.

This was the latest he'd ever gotten up.

"A new day again, time to work hard!"

He murmured, then turned over, buried his head under the blanket, and rested for another ten minutes before getting up slowly.

After washing up, he stood before a full-length mirror, removed his shirt, and revealed his smooth back.

Out of the corner of his eye, he examined the image in the mirror, from the back of his head down his spine, finally resting his gaze on the tailbone.

He didn't see any noticeable changes in his spine, nor any trace of the Chain of Order.

"Could it be that I need to activate spiritual vision to see any changes?"

With that thought, Hastur gently rubbed his right thumb and middle finger together three times.

Spiritual vision activated, the mirror's surface rippled slightly. On his back, faint blue markings shimmered along the spine, vague and hard to discern, as though a Chain of Order had perfectly merged with it.

"There really is a Chain of Order!"

Hastur had expected it, yet he was still shocked.

The rule set in the Hall of Stars had truly affected reality!

But what kind of power did this Chain of Order offer? Was it meant to bind enemies?

Well, more accurately, it was probably to restrict enemy movement.

He'd find the right opponent to test it on later.

After admiring it for a while, Hastur frowned. If the abnormality in his spine became this visible when spiritual vision was activated, wouldn't it be easy for others to notice something wrong?

Anyone with a bit of sense would know something was off if they saw a glowing spine.

And activating spiritual vision to observe others was a reflex for many Beyonders, a very common behavior.

Could he hide the traces of the Chain of Order?

The moment the thought surfaced, the faint blue markings vanished completely into the spine, leaving no sign of anything abnormal.

"Now that's more like it."

Hastur was quite pleased with this outcome.

He put his shirt back on, tidied his appearance, and only then did he lock up and head out.

As for breakfast? It was already 10:30, he'd just wait and eat at noon.

Between taking in a bit of energy and not having to cook or wash dishes, he'd always choose the latter.

By the time he arrived at Backlund University, it was nearly 11:00. Hastur had someone ask Professor Wayne if he had time for a private lesson that afternoon. If not, he'd head to Queen's District and make sure he arrived at the courthouse right on time.

Lunch at Backlund University was, as always, excellent and affordable.

After a post-meal stroll, he received a reply: Professor Wayne wouldn't be available that afternoon.

Queen's District.

It was the hub of Backlund's most powerful elites. King's Avenue cut right through it, and it was very close to Saint Samuel Cathedral, the true political center.

The Campbell family had once lived in Queen's District, owning multiple properties there.

Unfortunately, thanks to Voltaire Campbell's compulsive gambling, those properties were lost one by one.

Eventually, every house in Queen's District was gambled away, and the entire family had to move to the second-tier Western District. Even there, Voltaire gambled away all but one home, a textbook prodigal son.

Returning once more to Queen's District, Hastur couldn't help but marvel at its prosperity, opulence, grandeur, and the fact that not a single poorly dressed person could be seen.

After all, the nobles were kindhearted and couldn't bear the sight of suffering poor people.

Many beggars had once tried to seek alms in Queen's District. They were quite successful, earning dozens, even hundreds of pounds in a single day.

Then, at night, they were beaten to death and all their money was taken. Their bodies were simply thrown into the Tasok River.

After all, nobles are kind-hearted and cannot bear to see the poor suffer.

Eh, he himself was also a noble...

That feeling was quite complicated.

Oh, and now he was also poor...

Even more complicated...

Hastur walked along the King's Avenue, daydreaming while admiring the scenery on both sides.

Besides the large houses being remarkable, the shops here were also more unique than in other places.

That street to that one sold clothes, from here to there sold jewelry, and that area specialized in selling gemstones...

Hastur only passed by the shop entrances without going in, simply familiarizing himself with the layout, who knew when it might come in handy.

After wandering for two hours, it was almost time for the court session to begin, so he hired a carriage and left the Queen's District.

...

When the steady voice of the Judge echoed inside the courtroom, Hastur appeared from around the corner, walked through the gate, and sat in the back corner of the last row.

Hmm, good, Mrs. Germani didn't come today.

Hastur was in a good mood and listened attentively to the day's case.

Apart from sentencing a ship of captured pirates, there wasn't anything new.

As soon as the court session ended, Hastur was the first to get up, slipped out, hired a carriage, and left in a cloud of dust, all in one go.

"Phew, perfect."

Sitting in the carriage, Hastur shook his head with a smile, then lifted the curtain to observe the street view outside.

Out of the corner of his eye, he vaguely saw a familiar figure, it was one of the burly men who had been with the scammer Andrew earlier.

The burly man had a hostile gaze, and when he noticed Hastur looking his way, he instinctively turned to avoid eye contact.

Definitely suspicious!

"That must be someone Andrew sent to spy on me. Hmph, still not giving up."

Hastur lowered the curtain, his expression growing serious. He tapped the carriage floor lightly with his cane as he considered his options.

Since the other side refused to give up, he naturally had to take action.

Back in the Western District, before entering his own house, Hastur keenly sensed eyes watching him from the shadows.

His expression remained calm as he took out his key to unlock the door and then closed it behind him.

The opponent was even bolder than he had imagined, someone had already been sent to watch his doorstep. It was likely that by tomorrow night at the latest, they would take action.

Although the Western District's security was decent, it wasn't monitored at all times. There were always lapses.

While deep in thought, Hastur went upstairs to the second floor, entered his study, sat at his desk, and took out two blank envelopes to begin writing.

The first letter he intended to send to Glaint, explaining that a few days ago Andrew's group had tried to scam him, failed, and were now enraged and targeting him. He asked Glaint to put some pressure on the police stationed in the Western District.

The second letter he wrote directly to the local police station, accusing Andrew's group of attempting to harass a noble. The tone of the letter was intense, urging them to send people to protect him in secret as soon as possible.

After writing the letters and sealing them in envelopes, Hastur went out again to prevent any unforeseen complications.

He hired a carriage to Glaint's house, but didn't go inside. Instead, he handed the letter to the butler at the door and asked him to pass it on to Glaint, also asking him to send the second letter to the Western District's police station.

With that done, Hastur hired another carriage to stroll around nearby before finally returning home.

This round trip not only cost him a lot of time but also 1 soli and 4 penny!

Which made his already meager finances even tighter.

"When I catch Andrew, I must make him pay double for my losses."

"Trying to bully a noble, shouldn't he pay the price for that?"

Hastur snorted softly, chopped a stick of celery with a kitchen knife, and then sliced a whole piece of beef thinly, he was preparing to make tender stir-fried beef.

At night, Hastur tightly shut the bedroom door and instead laid out a sleeping mat in the study next door.

Hmm, this was to avoid unnecessary trouble, he didn't want to go head-to-head with a bunch of desperate thugs right now.

Time ticked by.

Near 2 a.m., the once-quiet first floor echoed with the cautious sound of a window being pried open.

So they came after all?

Hastur, who had been meditating, instantly opened his eyes and instinctively grabbed a boning knife prepared specifically for this.

The blade was slender and sharp, ideal for wielding, far more useful than a clumsy cane.