Myths Reawakened

July eighth, night.

A black sedan pulled up in front of Wayne’s Detective Agency. Following orders, the servant knocked on the door with a pattern of two short taps and one long tap, then set down a birdcage covered with black cloth, along with a large bag of mouse jerky.

Wayne climbed over the wall to bring the cage inside, finding the whole spy act absurd. He hadn’t specified a secret knock. It was either Veronica’s idea or the servant adding their own dramatic flair.

Got a lot of ideas in that little head.

He placed the birdcage on his desk and lifted the black cloth to reveal an actual little head—the owl’s expression was as distinctive as before, making him want to punch it.

As soon as he opened the cage, the snowy owl came out on its own. It disliked the cramped cage. Rotating its head by 270 degrees, it searched for a suitable perch and decided that Wayne was the best option.

It spread its wings and took off... only to be pressed back down by Wayne’s hand on its head.

“Where do you think you’re flying to, buddy?” He looked down at the owl with disdain and took out a piece of jerky. “From now on, your name is Snow, got it?”

The owls bred as nighttime messenger birds by the Three Goddesses Alliance possessed considerable intelligence, able to understand human speech and even carry out direct communication with their masters after building sufficient rapport. The snowy owl was a veteran among the messenger birds. It managed to survive all these years without getting beaten to death despite its punchable face, which had to be proof of its superior intellect.

Wayne held out the jerky and waited. If the bird responded, he would consider it having accepted the name.

The bird remained silent, eyeing him from the corners of its eyes. Its haughty demeanor made his hand twitch. He scoffed, “You have two options. Either you accept it with dignity, or I’ll teach you how. Be good and don’t make me sic the dog on you.”

The owl still didn’t speak, closing its eyes as if it were going to sleep.

“Do, get in here.”

Wayne chuckled darkly. For any other mage, it would be a good thing for their messenger bird to share their personality, but not for him. Either he or the snowy owl would change their way today.

Hearing his master call, Do bounded cheerfully into the office through the back door while wagging her tail. She sniffed the air and made a face at the scent of mice.

The owl’s golden eyes widened as it stared at the undead hound, its round face showing an almost human expression of shock.

“Give it a lesson—”

Wayne stopped mid-sentence. The snowy owl had closed its beak around the jerky and clutched it with its claws, eating it slowly.

Already? You coward!

He felt like he’d chosen the wrong messenger bird. Were he in its place, he’d die before yielding under torture; he wouldn’t even furrow his brow.

“Master, are we going for another walk tonight?” Do asked hopefully.

“There’s nothing else to do anyway. Let’s go on a stroll. The cemetery first, then the subway station.”

He planned to explore the sewers tonight. Londan’s sewer system was nearly two thousand kilometers long in total, with separate pipes for rain and wastewater. The flood control channels for rain were spacious. Due to its complex structure, not even the committee in charge of building and managing the sewer system had an exact map. One could walk along a sewer and find themselves in an air raid shelter, then turn around and see a subway station.

Wayne was excited about venturing into the uncharted territory, fantasizing about galloping through the sewers on horseback. Every journey begins with a single step. He was going to chart several routes tonight and gradually unlock new pathways. That way, if he was getting chased by powerful enemies one day, he would be able to lose them in the sewers.

Nobody will know sewers better than I do!

“Snow, you’re staying home tonight to watch the place. I’ve left the mice on the table. Don’t eat too much.”

In the backyard, he instructed his messenger bird and raised his hand. An agile undead warhorse leaped out from the mist. He mounted the horse and shook his head. Without even drawing Shadow Nightmare, his entire form became covered in swirls of grey, transforming him into the Death Knight with a skull head.

Do jumped over the wall of the backyard with Wayne spurring Julia to follow, leaving Snow perched by the back gate. Its large eyes were round with shock.

“Death... Knight...?”

“It can’t be. His pure mana is untainted by death. How could he be Death’s proudest knight? He should be the finest of the Goddess’s chosen,” Snow muttered to itself. “Maybe a goddess’s knight is able to perfectly conceal their faith. The Death Knight has shown up in Londan and infiltrated the Church of Nature... Should I warn them?”

“Forget it. It’s not the Church of Sun. It has nothing to do with me.”

Snow felt a strong sense of crisis. It couldn’t be a coincidence that the Death Knight had chosen it as his messenger bird. He had to have tracked down the Sun’s base and seen through its identity, thus planning to use it against the church.

“No, that’s not right. If that were the case, he wouldn’t expose himself...”

“Besides, I chose to follow him.”

Snow’s round face distorted in confusion. The possibility felt right and wrong at the same time. It was a problem too difficult for it to figure out.

***

Cemetery.

Wayne galloped at full speed. His extraordinary learning ability, combined with his lean, agile frame, allowed him to master horsemanship in a short time, becoming an expert rider almost entirely without guidance.

His training partners were the old folks who didn’t sleep at night. Seeing how energetic and emotionally stable they all appeared, they were definitely happy to help.

His rapid progress was partly due to Julia’s inherent traits. Be it rivers, lakes, cliffs, or bluffs, she could traverse all landscapes like level ground while ensuring her master wouldn’t fall. It also proved Wayne’s natural talent.

His talent in death!

There was a reason the followers of Death had sought him out, and Grau the Observer, one of Death’s three avatars, had tried to invite him directly. If the previous Death Knight fell, Wayne had a good chance of becoming the new Death Knight.

Back to the present. Wayne was practicing horsemanship in the cemetery while exploring how to use Shadow Nightmare. With Julia’s guidance, he could simply copy her previous master.

The death in Wayne wasn’t homogeneous. It could be divided into two types of eternity:

The first came from Shadow Nightmare, specialized in curses and mind control to trap an enemy’s thoughts in eternal nightmares.

The other came from Klofron, specialized in tranquility—it was a stillness that seemed to have put time itself on hold, freezing an enemy’s mind at the moment the sword struck them.

Compared to these two powerful attributes that directly attacked the mind, other abilities like raising the dead, corrupting flesh, and undying bodies seemed more like bonuses. At the end of the day, the thought was the key.

Victory was secured by severely damaging an enemy’s mind, and depending on the user’s thought, death could manifest in many ways.

“Unfortunately, I don’t have a strong enough mana or a refined enough thought. Even with enhancements, I can’t fully unleash the potential of both types of death,” Wayne said regretfully.

Encouraged by his boot-licking dog and horse, he quickly cheered up. Enough talking. Time to grind. Grinding was the only way to forge new paths.

***

Meanwhile, over a dozen figures hid outside the cemetery. With the fog as cover, they blended perfectly with the environment, their energy contained. It would be impossible to detect their presence without observing them with the naked eye.

The leading priestess was Simone Emile. She had changed out of her priest’s robe for practical, simple clothing and was leading Londan’s elite Scapels—members of the surgical strike unit—to investigate the cemetery.

She had submitted to Silvia. To demonstrate her loyalty, she cut off her long hair, adopting the same short style as Silvia. That alone wasn’t enough to earn Silvia’s trust, so she gave Simone a mission: this cemetery was reportedly haunted at midnight with signs of coffins being moved and soil being disturbed, which could be traces left by the Death Knight’s stroll with his horse. Simone was to verify the information.

Thus, Simone, who rarely left her office, came to the front line. She had carefully selected the ten finest Scalpels by her standards.

The Londan branch was established later than the Palis branch, and thus the surgical strike unit here was considerably weaker. Compounded by the Darkness Knight’s recent devastation of the unit, Simone’s options were limited; she had to make do with what she had.

Taking on the Death Knight one-on-one was out of the question. They might dream of returning triumphant with the Death Knight’s head, but in reality, the Death Knight would be the one to decapitate all of them and mount their heads onto fences in a row.

Silvia knew that, and so did Simone. Tonight’s operation was nothing more than a test of her loyalty. Lip service alone wasn’t enough. She had to show her sincerity.

If they encountered the Death Knight’s mount, Simone could retreat at any time without punishment. Not only that, she would be rewarded for bringing back crucial intelligence.

She looked at the cemetery amid chilling howling gusts and made a gesture. The ten Scalpels dispersed, concealing themselves to carry out reconnaissance and guard duties. Low risk didn’t mean no risk. Simone kept that in mind. The cowardly mages were the ones who survived.

One Scalpel placed both hands on the ground, connecting his mind to the vegetation and using the root systems to expand his vision, observing every inch of the cemetery from all angles. In his perception, the cemetery was lush with greenery except for the complete darkness in the center. That spot rejected his observation, and he couldn’t penetrate the dark veil.

It made sense. All graveyards were inevitably permeated with death’s energy, which life instinctively rejected and avoided. It wasn’t surprising that he couldn’t see into it.

Under Simone’s signal, the Scalpel took out a glass vial and poured pollen onto his palm, gently blowing it away.

Imperceptible pollen scattered, guiding his vision into the cemetery.

Throughout the entire process, none of them used any mana. When it came to infiltration, they were undoubtedly experts.

Strange gusts of wind roared and rustled the plants and the tree branches, warning the group of approaching danger. The Scalpel said in a low voice, “There’s an undead hound that matches the one described to walk with the Death Knight in the report. Three months ago, there were stories about the hound appearing in Londan, first at an animal shelter. The intelligence needs verification, though.”

He finished his briefing with an impassive expression, awaiting Simone’s next order.

“Can you see more?” Simone suppressed her surprise. She wanted to confirm the undead horse’s whereabouts, but feared that he would actually see the Death Knight.

“Only the undead hound. It seems to have sensed my gaze and is searching around. This is the best time to retreat.”

“Retreat!”

Simone didn’t hesitate even for a moment.

Tonight’s mission was complete. They had confirmed the undead hound’s existence and brought back a piece of important information.

Many magical creatures roamed the thick mist in Londan. Whenever night fell, the mist would become a sanctuary for them. The churches had joined forces to eliminate groups after groups of magical creatures and set up barriers to ensure the residents’ safety at night, but some always managed to slip through the cracks into the city; the undead hound could be one of them.

It had claimed the cemetery as its territory.

As for how the undead hound was connected to the Death Knight, perhaps skeletons were drawn to each other.

Sensing danger, Simone was unwilling to linger. She ordered the team of elite Scalpels to retreat with her well-protected in their midst.

Roar—

Deep roars resounded, and as if in response, the omnipresent fog surged violently, gathering from the distance to surround the cemetery, morphing into writhing snakes in search of something.

The group stopped, concealing their presence as much as possible, but the mist wasn’t just sensing their energy; it was able to observe things directly to a certain extent. Several quick-minded Scalpels immediately realized that they were exposed. The undead hound’s roar was a summoning call.

“Retreat at once!”

Two Scalpels lifted Simone, who might as well be a noncombatant, while the remaining Scalpels joined forces to create a protective barrier, dispersing the mist to accelerate their escape. They were clearly experienced and decisive. If nothing went wrong, they would escape safely tonight.

Crash!

Snakes of mist coiled into claws and gnawed at the barrier in crisscrossing bites, each impact leaving visible marks. In just ten seconds, hundreds of gashes emerged. The elites’ mana ran out rapidly. They were shocked by the undead hound’s strength, especially its absurdly powerful ability to control fog.

It couldn’t be a simple magical creature born from the mist; it had surely received the Death Knight’s blessing.

The gaping maws tore at the barrier with increasing power and fierceness. The elites realized that someone had to stay behind to cover their retreat. Ignoring the pale Simone, five of them stayed to cover the other five as they made their escape. Of course, they brought Simone, their leader in name only.

The moment the barrier shattered, tangled vines shot out of the ground and formed a giant over ten meters tall, driving away the mist and blocking the fierce bites coming from all directions. Shadow streaked across the ground, racing toward the edge of the thick fog. The Scalpels theorized that the mist controlled by the undead hound had to have a limited range. If they could break through and leave the hound’s domain, they would be able to better fight back.

Those who stayed maintained their composure. They had experienced far more dangerous situations. The previous High Reverend had survived the Darkness Knight’s pursuit because of the surgical strike unit.

Suddenly, the fog dispersed. Hazy moonlight poured down. The pressure they felt reduced greatly, and the terrifying atmosphere shifted abruptly. The five Scalpels who had stayed to cover their companions looked at the hound in confusion, not understanding why it had stopped attacking. They were even more confused when their companions returned to them at a faster speed with Priestess Simone in tow.

Really? We’ve fought tooth and nail to create an opening for you to flee. Why are you throwing it away?

Facing their accusing eyes, the five returning Scalpels felt a heavy sense of resignation. They had run in the wrong way. Worse news awaited them in that direction. They couldn’t escape.

Under the moonlight, hooves clattered clearly on the ground. The Death Knight rode his warhorse over and turned to the side, his skull enveloped in black mist. The dancing white flames in his eye sockets looked them over.

A booming voice intoned, “Stay. We hunger for a late-night snack!”