It was the evening of July 6, 1399, when Lynch finally returned to his familiar home—the second floor of 221 Villa Avenue.
He changed into soft, comfortable pajamas that had just been freshly laundered, smelling richly of lavender—his favorite floral scent. His landlady was certainly learning his preferences better and better.
Stretching deeply, Lynch looked around the small yet cozy living room. A satisfied smile crossed his face as he sank his exhausted body into the soft sofa.
So comfortable.
The savory aroma of food drifted up from the kitchen downstairs, where the landlady hummed a cheerful tune while utensils clinked softly in her slender hands.
He could finally taste her home cooking again. Although Mrs. Maggie's culinary skills were far from gourmet, every dish was filled with the comforting flavor of home—something Lynch eagerly looked forward to.
Those five days inside the mystery relic had been quite grueling, filled with hardship.
Ever since realizing the grain was contaminated, the four of them hadn't dared touch any local food or water, relying entirely on the cheapest, simplest rations they had brought along to fill their stomachs. To stave off hunger, they had to settle for Orlando veal loin paired with red heart fruit from Fulang County, and to quench their thirst, they reluctantly drank ten-year-old private reserve wine from Miles Village. Life had been truly wretched—so miserable that poor Natalie felt she had gained weight.
...Well, perhaps it wasn't quite that wretched.
In truth, Miss Diana's storage bracelet held enough exquisite ingredients and fine wine to feed all four of them for half a month. When it came to food, their only real dilemma had been deciding which delicacy to choose.
Having eaten rich, decadent meals for days, Lynch naturally craved simple, home-cooked food.
Inhaling the fragrant aromas, the fatigue accumulated over the past few days washed over him, making his eyelids heavy. Just as he was about to nod off, a small head poked through the doorway.
Little Martha was stealthily peeking inside. Seeing Lynch lying on the couch with his eyes closed, she assumed he was asleep and scrambled in on all fours. Lynch, watching her through narrowed eyes, was thoroughly intrigued by her sneaky behavior.
Ever since he had given the brat a thorough spanking, the little thing had been much better behaved, refraining from mischief for quite some time. He wondered what she was up to now.
Lynch silently continued pretending to sleep, watching her tiptoe right up to him—and then... holy crap.
Lynch was horrified, but it was already too late. Little Martha suddenly launched herself into the air, using her entire body like a spear, and slammed her head directly into his stomach.
“Ow!”
With a painful cry, Lynch curled into a ball like a shrimp, filled with utter regret.
I actually thought this kid had become obedient. There must be something wrong with my head.
Having landed her blow, the little girl didn't run away. Instead, she buried her face against Lynch's stomach, affectionately rubbing against him. A muffled voice drifted up from his belly.
“Uncle Lynch didn't lie like Daddy did.”
“Hmm?”
“That day, he said he'd be back in a few days, just like you said when you left. But he never came back. You came back, though.”
Lynch's gaze gradually softened. He reached out and gently patted the furry little head resting on his stomach.
“Hee-hee, Mama was so happy her hands were trembling, and I was super happy too. It's so nice. I really hope life can stay like this forever.”
“It will, but life also comes with plenty of unpleasant moments. For instance...” Lynch stroked Martha's small head gently. Just as she was about to purr, he suddenly sat up, pinned the little brat over his knee, and landed a few firm spanks on her rear. “That's for sneak-attacking me! That's for crawling on the floor! And that's for headbutting my stomach!”
The little creature giggled uncontrollably as she squirmed out of Lynch's grasp, running to the doorway while clutching her buttocks. She turned around, intending to make a rude gesture, but pulled it back halfway. Instead, she gnashed her teeth and shook her little fist at Lynch before happily running downstairs to tell on him to her mother.
Little rascal.
Lynch clicked his tongue. Thanks to her antics, his drowsiness had completely evaporated. He sat up, opened his detective notebook, and began organizing his gains from this recent ordeal.
In terms of abilities, he hadn't gained any new insights. He still possessed only two authorities: Concealment and Death. Concealment mainly provided his most frequently used abilities—Lurking and Phantasmal Sound—as well as presence-masking for external objects and Mystery Intuition for sensing the concentration of mysterious filth. His Death authority came with quite a few secondary abilities; aside from those used to sense and communicate with the dead, the most useful were his sole ranged attack, Death Coil, and his strongest defensive capability, Death Veto.
These abilities were gradually proving insufficient. Although Lynch had realized over the past few months that rank wasn't the sole deciding factor in the world of the occult—and that understanding and adeptly deploying authority were the true keys to victory—rank still dictated the upper ceiling of one's abilities, making it vital nonetheless.
The problem was that he had no idea when his next advancement would come; advancing Divine Authority was truly an arduous process. Fortunately, he had obtained a second Red Moon Memories from Cat Baron. Once he encountered a suitable authority, he would have an opportunity to advance.
Until then, he could only rely on arcana and mystery relics to make up for his shortcomings.
Lynch did a quick tally. He currently possessed three arcana spells. Aside from the swelling daughter contact technique—which he had no intention of ever using again in his life—he had only Flash and the newly learned Nack-Tith Great Prison Spell. Though few, they were exceptionally practical. The Prison Spell in particular could not only trap enemies but also enclose himself in a protective barrier, pooling the strength of up to ten allies. It allowed either one enemy to take on a whole group, or a whole group to gank a single enemy.
It was a tremendously useful large-scale defensive measure. Learning this alone made Lynch feel the risky venture had been worthwhile. Furthermore, this arcana spell was merely a bonus—the true reward was something else entirely.
The Substitute Puppet—Dr. Sven's gift, and Lynch's second life.
Ever since his ring, The Passion of the Blazing Lady, was destroyed, Lynch had been left with only five mystery relics. Aside from the round fan associated with the Swelling Daughter—which he had completely sealed away—he had the pipe that served as a calming agent, the cane capable of blood-draining and shape-shifting, the Hourglass of Secrets Beyond Time offering powerful conceptual single-target defense, and most importantly, the Crimson Lady's Compassion. But now, he had added one more to his arsenal.
Strictly speaking, the Substitute Puppet could only be considered a special item, but Lynch counted it among his mystery relics nonetheless. It was undoubtedly a strategic-grade treasure. Lynch carefully stowed away the eerie doll that perfectly mimicked his appearance. Thank you, Doctor. With this, my courage is bolstered significantly. If given the chance, I will definitely help free you all.
【And those things stamped on your soul.】
His neighbor's tone carried a subtle hint of amusement, causing the corner of Lynch's mouth to twitch. Right—he still had that row of stamps from evil gods stamped on his soul.
Bastet's gift, Cat's Favor; the King in Yellow's gift, Call of the Water; Cthulhu, the Lord of R'lyeh's gift, Dream of the Sea; and the Lady of Fire, Cthugha's gift, Embrace of Fire.
Every single gift was excellent, but all gifts from fate came with a hidden price tag. Which gift from an evil god could ever give someone peace of mind?
Oh well. When you're covered in lice, one more bite doesn't hurt; when you owe too much, you stop worrying about debt. Whoever else wants to stamp me, go ahead—I'll endure it.
With a long sigh, Lynch closed his notebook. Overall, his current setup was strong on defense but weak on offense, lacking everyday offensive skills. Lynch decided that when he visited the Arcane Tower tomorrow, he would find a way to swindle some attack techniques out of them. Otherwise, he couldn't keep clutching his head and taking beatings every single time.
As he was hatching his scheme for tomorrow, the doorbell at the front entrance downstairs rang. Lynch blinked, checking his pocket watch. It was already past six o'clock—who could be visiting at this hour?
Puzzled, he walked to the top of the stairs and leaned over to look down, seeing a familiar tall figure standing below, looking up at him with a grin.
Officer Natalie Angel had come to scrounge a free meal again.
Rate on N.U.
