Chapter 64: Only a Saint Could Resist Bootlicking Here
When Aiwass summoned Aleister, Sherlock already understood his determination.
——It was a resolve that would rather err on the side of excessive killing than let something slip by.
Sherlock knew Aiwass very well.
Aiwass was not a reckless or violent person... But if Aiwass had made such a decision, it meant that behind this matter, there might be secrets even more urgent than what he had already revealed.
Sherlock was very curious about what that might be. But he wouldn't waste precious time at this moment.
To put it bluntly... it was just a Son of the Moon anyway.
These were, after all, magical beasts that preyed on humans, living hidden within the Iris Kingdom by usurping power. And as Sons of the Moon who believed in the Blood Celestial Marshal, this batch was even the most aggressive and hostile.
What's the harm in killing just a few Sons of the Moon Count—why not kill them all?
Therefore, Sherlock quickly organized the intelligence, jotting down the reasoning process and key data on paper, then boarded the carriage with Aiwass and Aleister.
Before leaving, he took a special note of the time.
It was now 2:10 in the morning.
——Even before the second batch of summarized intelligence arrived, Aiwass and Sherlock had quietly set off.
They rode in a carriage protected by the Duke's crest, speeding through the deserted streets. Even though the Sons of the Moon were accustomed to hunting at night, they dared not attack the Duke Mansion's carriage.
The creatures, who prided themselves as "Perfect Embryos" and considered themselves more noble than humans while preying on them for sustenance, were now scurrying away shamefully under the oppressive power of mortal authority. It was as laughable as how the Sons of the Moon could command other humans through mortal power.
They had integrated too deeply into this society—gained new strength, and with it, new weaknesses.
In the dead of night, apart from a few frightened Sons of the Moon turning into bats and fluttering away, almost no one could be seen. The empty streets seemed swallowed by darkness, the carriage sweeping by swiftly like a shadow.
The curtains outside were tightly drawn to prevent those outside from seeing who was inside the carriage. Yet inside the carriage was not a pitch-black space—the nobles of the Iris Flower disliked using such newfangled plebeian devices as electric lights. The light inside the carriage came from alchemical sources costing far more—remnants of a failed "artificial sun" technology.
Sherlock scrutinized Aleister, his expression slightly peculiar.
This black-haired little girl, merely twelve or thirteen years old, had an unruly and audacious grin that struck him with familiarity.
As if he had seen her somewhere before…
Her limbs were slender, pale, and fragile, clad in a white gown styled after a Priestess of the Helasal Empire. Her long hair fell like silk, and her scarlet pupils gave an impression as if she were drunk.
"What... is this situation?"
He calmly quipped, "Have you finally crossed the taboo and started turning living people into summoned creatures?"
Sherlock had seen Aiwass seal Earthbound Spirits into Tarot Cards before. It was a mystical skill he had never heard of, resembling the abilities from the Path of Beauty, yet Aiwass was then a Transcendent on the Path of Dedication and Transcendence.
Back then, Sherlock suspected that one day Aiwass would seal people into Tarot Cards.
"What are you talking about," Aiwass patted Aleister's head, saying calmly, "you've seen it before."
"... I have?"
"This is Aleister, my other half."
Aiwass turned to Sherlock, speaking calmly, "You can consider her another me..."
And Aleister, who had been curling her hair around a finger, heard this and chuckled, saying, "You could also think of me as another him—how about it, Detective?"
Listening to that familiar, teasing tone calling him "Detective"... Sherlock finally knew what this was all about. In the past, Aiwass would always tease him like this.
"... Truly mad."
Sherlock shook his head repeatedly, "Splitting off another self and making it your own summoned creature... it sounds like..."
He stopped short, his words hanging unfinished.
What could it be like?
Eternal Self? Crown Lord? Great Sage?
... Realizing that the big shots on top had done such things, Sherlock suddenly didn't dare speak.
And just then, Aleister suddenly sensed something and looked up at the carriage ceiling. Aiwass noticed it as well, directing his gaze upwards. Yet Sherlock still hadn't sensed what was wrong... he only caught that subtle curve on top of the carriage from their line of sight.
——There was someone on top.
Realizing this, Sherlock immediately tensed up.
He gripped his cane tightly—a sword cane he had crafted in Eagle Cape Village, and his most reliable weapon to this day. It had been confiscated when Sherlock was detained at the Duke Mansion... but before Aiwass arrived, the Duke had returned it to him.
But Aiwass and Aleister were not particularly nervous.
Aiwass even pulled back the curtain, calling out, "Do you insist on hanging outside?"
"If there's a thunderstorm out there, you might serve as a lightning rod, you know."
Aleister added with a laugh.
"... Are you saying I'm prone to being struck by lightning?"
Arsene's resigned voice came from outside.
He twisted around, nimbly slipping into the carriage from the roof. Bringing in the damp chill of the night, he sat beside Sherlock, who immediately showed a look of distaste and shifted toward the corner.
"Why are you here?"
Sherlock asked.
"Should I not be here?"
Arsene retorted.
"No," Sherlock spoke mercilessly, "You're just a burden."
"Oh, come on..."
Arsene said with a pained expression, "Have some compassion, will you? My old man told me to come help out, so we don't disgrace the family... To that end, he even gave this to me."
With that, Arsene lifted his coat to show them the blue-grey short sword at his waist.
"Oh..."
The three of them exclaimed in unison, evidently recognizing it.
"The Vdom Sword."
Sherlock murmured, "Even something like this can be given to you?"
"Angelique is at least the current family head."
Arsene said unhappily, "What's the harm in me taking it."
And Aleister couldn't help but say, "Sarastro—its name is Sarastro, right?"
"... Indeed."
Arsene raised his head slightly, surprised, "You actually know?"
Earlier, while lying on the roof of the carriage, he had heard the conversation inside, so he already knew the true identity of this little girl—the manifestation of Pope Evas.
This garnered great respect in Arsene, who had some knowledge of theological stories.
In his understanding of mythology, those capable of such feats were all top-tier big shots!
What does this indicate?
It indicates that Aiwass is surely the future lord god!
If he could win the lord god's favor, maybe he could snag a position as an Angel Envoy! His soul wouldn't undergo "recycling" but instead attain eternal life after death...
Seeing such a figure, how could one not flatter them, such divine beings!