Chapter 72
She stood up and scanned the room, her eyes landing on the black suede handbag that Aivina had given her. Shaer opened it to find some items she had prepared for her simulation.
Inside was a membership card for Deton Manor, a brand-new silver revolver, a small canister of bullets, several vials of potions, a few bottles of healing elixirs, and a small stack of pristine twenty-pound notes (most likely borrowed). On the table lay the mask that Aivina had previously purchased for her from the Redemption Society.
Shaer took out the revolver, which had a barrel noticeably longer than her old handgun. Weighing it in her hand, she opened the cylinder and saw it packed with bullets.
For some reason, seeing the six neatly arranged bullets made Shaer frown slightly.
Deep down, she felt that this overwhelming sense of “100%” was quite unsettling.
It was clear that this revolver had one more bullet than her previous one, and the caliber was slightly larger, but…
The stability of it all was too much.
Shaer raised the revolver, pressed the ejector, and the bullets clattered onto the table with a pleasant “clink.”
After reloading a bullet, she flicked the cylinder to the right, the chamber clicking back into place. Then, she slid the gun into the holster on her belt.
Her actions were less instinctual and more a subconscious response influenced by the “Gambler” potion, perhaps even she was unaware that her mindset had quietly shifted.
While on the “Avenger” path, Shaer often found her thoughts turning volatile, as if a fire of rage burned eternally within her; otherwise, she wouldn’t have been capable of gathering people to blow up the entire square.
Now, on the “Gambler” path, her emotions began to waver, prioritizing “high risk, high reward” in her thoughts.
This wasn’t necessarily a bad thing; after all, the ability of the “Gambler” that floated in her mind suggested that such high-stakes actions were essential to fully harness its power.
The “Gambler’s” ability didn’t enhance combat power in a tangible way like the “Avenger” did, with a visible shadow aiding in battle. Instead, it leaned more towards the abstract, focusing on “luck” and “mysticism.”
The “Gambler” could activate their ability to make a “fate roll,” which didn’t have to be a die; it could be a coin, a bullet shell, a lucky rabbit’s foot, or anything else. If the outcome was favorable, the next action would receive a significant luck boost; conversely, a poor result would lead to misfortune.
This process couldn’t be interfered with or cheated; otherwise, the ability would fail to activate.
The Gambler’s combat style resembled that of the sealed handgun made with “Gambler” traits in the “Death Roulette.” The lower the probability of the sealed item or firearm being fired by the “Gambler,” the greater the effect or bullet enhancement.
If the “Gambler” fired into the air and survived, the next attack would gain an even higher boost.
It was a combat style that wagered one’s life; the bolder the gamble, the stronger the combat power unleashed.
Of course, if luck turned sour, that was another story altogether.
After checking her belongings, Shaer didn’t rush to leave the room but began preparing instead.
She took out the [Letter from the Glowing Bishop] and [Deadly Blood Roland] from the warehouse, placing them on the table alongside the mask she had bought from the Redemption Society.
She fetched candles and a tailor’s knife, starting to dismantle the fragile shell of the mask to reveal the white plush fabric inside.
Dripping red wax from the candle onto the mask, it flowed down in the shape of a horror-stricken faceless figure weeping blood.
Shaer covered her left eye with paper, securing it with a thumbtack from the inside out, took a deep breath, and retrieved the [Page from the Otherworld] from the warehouse.
The moment the page appeared, the [Saint’s Substitute Corpse] in her chest ignited fiercely, the burning purple flames threatening to break free from their confines.
Shaer quickly closed her eyes, feeling her way as she pressed the page against the left side of the mask, securing it with a paperclip and sealing wax.
Only after stuffing the mask into her handbag did the buzzing in her head begin to fade.
“Phew…”
Shaer let out a long breath.
She had already devised a plan for how to approach Jidi—she would disguise herself as a bishop delivering information.
She was betting on the messenger; she hadn’t yet received news of Shiren’s failure, nor had she brought any intelligence from her superiors to Deton Manor.
She was also gambling that her disguise could fool Jidi, who was already a cultist.
If she was going to gamble, she would go all in.
Shaer looked up at the vanity mirror on the table. In the reflection, her light gray-blue hair remained, but a smile graced her face that she had never worn before.
It was the exhilaration of a gambler filled with anticipation just before the draw.
She picked up the Deadly Blood Roland and clipped it to the left side of her belt. Shaer’s complexion gradually drained of color as she gathered her things and headed downstairs.
…
A carriage rattled its way to the foot of Creek Mountain on the outskirts of the city. The driver cautiously pulled the reins and turned back to ask.
“Excuse me, miss, the road ahead isn’t very good…”
“Just stop here.”
With a pale face, Shaer jumped down from the carriage, casually flicking a gold pound coin into the air, where it traced a golden arc before landing upright on the wooden bench beside the driver. It remained standing until the horse snorted and shifted, causing the coin to fall, the queen’s face facing the sky.
“Thank you, miss! I really appreciate it!”
The driver picked up the coin, expressing his gratitude while biting it, his excitement growing.
As Shaer walked up the mountain, she reached into her skirt pocket and pulled out a piece of candy, crunching it between her teeth and swallowing it.
She spotted the path leading to Deton Manor and, as she stepped onto it, grabbed another handful of candy and stuffed it into her mouth. Then, she took out the modified mask from her handbag and put it on her face.
With the mask obscuring her vision, Shaer couldn’t see the Page from the Otherworld; its influence on her was now just a faint hum.
Currently, Shaer wore a blue and white dress that originally belonged to Aivina, but with a holster at her waist, each side sporting a pair of impressive-looking handguns.
At that moment, she resembled a noble lady out for a hunting trip—if one could overlook the terrifying mask on her face.
Shaer ascended the mountain path, soon reaching the halfway point where Deton Manor stood.
A servant wearing a green chip mask spotted her from afar and hurried over to greet her.
However, when they saw the mask on Shaer’s face, both servants trembled, almost instantly removing their masks, closing their eyes, and bowing their heads.
Sweat beads trickled down their foreheads, and terrifying whispers echoed in their minds as her footsteps drew closer.
Tap—
The footsteps stopped a short distance in front of them, and the servants held their breath, not daring to make a sound until the terrifying figure spoke in a melodious voice.
“What should you call me?”
The voice was soft, seemingly laced with a hint of laughter, comforting as if blessed by a mother goddess.
“Lord… Bishop.”
“Bishop!”
As Shaer had anticipated, Jidi had likely been lurking here for quite some time, and most of the members of Deton Manor had already been converted into her followers.
The corners of Shaer’s mouth curled slightly beneath the mask as she smiled and said, “The Mother Goddess is watching over you.”
“Thank you for your grace!”
“Thank you, Bishop! Thank you, Bishop!”
As soon as Shaer spoke, the two servants with their eyes closed seemed to receive a divine blessing, suddenly dropping to their knees and bowing their heads toward her, continuing to do so until their foreheads bled.
I wonder if this [Page from the Otherworld] that drives people mad counts as completing the “Blood Painter’s” resurrection ritual?
After all, this thing is something I wrote myself…
As Shaer pondered, she pushed open the grand door of the manor and stepped inside.
Following her memory, she turned left and opened the door to the parlor.
She had only been here once, taking the newcomer’s path, and not knowing any other routes, she had to retrace her steps.
The sound of the door creaking open made the man lounging beside a pile of chips in the parlor furrow his brow.
“How many chips do you want to exchange? Once you’re done, you can go in.”
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