“Of course I sternly refused! A secret art like that is far too dangerous—no matter how useful it might be, I wouldn't touch it. There was no room for negotiation. But that giant hound clung to my leg, howling and weeping, tears streaming down its face, practically begging me to learn the hound summoning technique. Of course I didn't agree. I am a man of principle; no matter how pitiful it acted, it was useless. As a result, not only that giant hound, but all the other hounds swarmed over too. They sprawled around me and wouldn't let me leave unless I agreed to learn how to summon them. Sigh, I'm simply too kindhearted. I couldn't bear to see them disappointed, so I had no choice but to grant their request and reluctantly learned how to summon hounds...”
Night had fallen outside. The Yithian had already left, and Lynch and his two companions, accompanied by Ms. Skye, were mooching a dinner at the Milt residence while waiting for reinforcements to arrive. No, to be precise, the three were cautiously awaiting backup while reluctantly accepting Ms. Skye's dinner invitation just to save her face.
During the meal, Lynch gave an entirely honest account of his recent experience, boasting about chatting and laughing with evil gods and making the hounds bow in worship before him:
“I told him right then and there: ‘Do you know the Major Gods? They're miles above you, yet I chat and laugh with them all the same! If you don't give me the goods and things go sideways in the future, you will be held responsible...’”
He spoke with passionate eloquence and captivating flair, though unfortunately, everyone remained expressionless, quietly watching him show off.
Through this dinner, however, the trio gained a deeper understanding of the Milt siblings—or rather, a deeper understanding of the Hounds of Tindalos and the lineage of Yog-Sothoth.
The physical prowess of the Hounds of Tindalos was fairly average, but physical attacks were completely ineffective against them; only attacks enhanced with special attributes could affect them. Beyond their sharp fangs and claws, their attacks featured something feared by all who knew of them: life-force absorption. Their tongues could pierce directly into a target's chest to drain their vitality. The victim wouldn't sustain physical wounds, but their life force would drain away. Once or twice might not seem obvious, but the problem was that whenever the hounds mobilized, they came by the thousands or tens of thousands. One bite per hound, and a victim would quickly be drained into a hollow husk.
The most troublesome aspect of the hounds was that they were tireless, nearly immortal and indestructible, and single-mindedly obsessive. As long as they sensed a mark, no matter where the target was, they would charge toward them at top speed without a moment's delay.
Their speed was astonishingly fast. It was said that crossing a hundred million years in the River of Time took only a single day in the mortal world, so a span of thousands or tens of thousands of years took merely an instant. Furthermore, ignoring spatial limitations, they would warp directly into their target's face to unleash their full power. Consequently, anyone attacked by them was guaranteed to die unless they hid inside a safe house; otherwise, they would have zero chance to catch their breath, let alone sleep.
Soul Severers possessing time authorities or divination authorities shared the deepest hatred with the hounds, especially the followers of Tawil at'Umr, the Ancient One.
These people, having far too much time on their hands, loved nothing more than peering through the River of Time. As long as their strength allowed it, they even enjoyed diving physically into the River of Time to spy on themselves in other eras. Right now, there might very well be several Ms. Skyes watching them from various points in time. This was precisely why she had seemed so familiar with Lynch and Natalie when they first met.
Naturally, this was also the reason they frequently provoked the hounds. Whether through spying or physical entry, the broader the time span, the easier it was to encounter the hounds, kicking off a lifelong cycle of mutual destruction.
Lynch truly couldn't comprehend the point of spying on oneself. Wasn't staying alive better? There was a good reason why followers of Tawil at'Umr were so few in number.
All he could say was to respect others' life choices. As long as they didn't mind the trouble, so be it.
Actually, they did mind.
“I'm managing relatively well,” Ms. Skye explained. “I only have about twenty-some marks on me, which means only twenty-some hounds are hunting me.”
“What do you mean 'only'...” Lynch felt his worldview wavering slightly and sighed. “When you say 'twenty-some hounds,' you can't possibly mean the actual count, right? You're really amazing.”
“Of course.” Ms. Skye smiled and nodded, looking quite proud.
I wasn't complimenting you.
The two ladies had never encountered the beasts directly, so it was hard for them to understand Lynch's feelings. But Lynch had actually petted a hound inside the River of Time. He knew their characteristics all too well—a single hound never meant just one in the literal sense; it represented that entity's existence across every point in time.
Perhaps to someone who dealt exclusively with time, there was a vast difference between one hound and a hundred hounds. But to Lynch, one hound and a hundred million hounds were functionally identical.
“There is still a difference,” Ms. Skye explained earnestly. “With fewer marks, we can find ways to temporarily conceal them and live like a normal person. The only reason I can sit here chatting with you right now is thanks to this technique.”
“Normal like this?”
The three pointed expressionlessly behind Ms. Skye. Unbeknownst to anyone, several plumes of blue mist had billowed up behind her.
With a sharp squeak, the lady sprang to her feet and vanished from the dining room in an instant. The half-formed hounds pursued her like the wind. A few minutes later, Ms. Skye returned to the dining room, sitting back down under the trio's numb stares as she said with perfect composure, “Yes, normal just like this.”
At that moment, Lynch seriously considered re-studying the Lande language. He suspected his understanding of certain vocabulary words was deeply flawed.
“This is already considered very normal,” she added. “Once you kill them or shake them off, you just re-conceal the marks. Someone like my brother, on the other hand, can't manage that.”
The Count's daughter asked out of curiosity, “If I may ask, how many marks does Mr. Milt have on him? Earlier, when I saw that vast horde... ahem.”
The overwhelming, sky-blotting spectacle flashed before Lynch's eyes once again, and he immediately nodded repeatedly in agreement.
“Hmm... Seven years ago, when he confirmed he had reached one thousand and one, he gave up counting. Now it's probably getting close to five thousand.”
“...”
The trio felt utterly exhausted in body and mind, deprived of any desire to comment further.
“Actually, we aren't as pitiful as you imagine,” Ms. Skye said. “While our physical bodies must indeed hide inside a safe house every day, our vision can wander freely through the River of Time, witnessing sights you could never dream of. We have witnessed the world's very first flash of light, the violent explosion of nebulae, the collapse of dying stars, and countless meteors raining down from the heavens to turn the earth into a sea of fire. To witness all of this, we willingly accept this price.”
This caused the three to put away their lighthearted mood. Lynch finally realized that, at her core, she was a seeker walking the path of knowledge, willing to pay any cost to pursue her goals.
Even if that cost was her own life.
Such people were somewhat terrifying, yet equally worthy of respect.
“Besides, hiding in a safe house while observing has another benefit: even if the hounds discover us, they can't reach us,” she added. “And my brother and I can use the River of Time to make consciousness contact from time to time. Although it's difficult for us to meet face-to-face, my brother and I are always together—until the day death tears us apart.”
“Will that day ever come?”
“It comes for every ‘person,’ without exception.” Ms. Skye offered a meaningful smile and quickly looked away. “My brother just informed me that the assassin is dead.”
Lynch was taken aback for a moment, then nodded softly.
Another person had died because of him, yet he found himself almost completely unbothered, his mood entirely tranquil. Habit truly was a terrifying thing.
“Oh, right. My brother also asked me to tell you to run—someone is coming to settle a score with you.”
“Huh?”
Before he could even process the words, the thunderous rumbling of carriage wheels echoed from outside the window.
Rate on N.U.
