Chapter 155

Chapter 155

Morning sunlight streamed through the blinds, casting dappled light and shadow on the dining table of the Noah household. Silverware clinked crisply against porcelain. Martha had just set down a stack of golden-brown pancakes. Bruce was distributing slices of bacon onto each plate. Alice, clutching a large glass of milk, took small sips, her cheeks puffed out, occasionally casting curious glances at Evan sitting across from her.

Evan set down his knife and fork, his fingers unconsciously rubbing the warm ceramic surface of his cup. The scent of blood from the alley last night seemed to linger in his nostrils. The Exorcism Bullet tainted with dark energy was hidden in his innermost pocket; he could feel its cold weight even through the fabric. He lifted his gaze to the window—the street outside was calm and peaceful. A milkman's cart trundled slowly past, and the sweet aroma of cinnamon wafted from the bakery, just like any other day. It was as if the nightmare that had tried to consume him last night and the Dark Supernatural he had shot dead in the alley were nothing but illusions.

"It seems... the Night Watch handled the aftermath," Evan thought to himself. As the Empire's officially-sanctioned supernatural organization, the Night Watch always operated in the shadows, silently erasing traces of supernatural incidents, keeping ordinary people shielded from that brutal world. Thinking this, the tension in his shoulders eased slightly. He picked up his glass of milk and drained it. The cool liquid slid down his throat, suppressing the lingering chill.

As he set down the empty glass, he noticed the gazes of his parents and brothers were all fixed on him. Martha's apron was still dusted with flour, and weariness lingered in the corners of her eyes—the joy of Mark's safe return last night didn't seem to have completely dispelled her anxiety from the past few days. Bruce's grip on his cutlery tightened slightly, a trace of barely perceptible worry hidden deep in his eyes. Mark was poking at his pancake with a fork, looking like he wanted to say something but couldn't find the words. Even the usually boisterous Edward had stopped shoving scrambled eggs into his mouth.

Evan took a deep breath, tapped his fingers lightly on the tablecloth twice, and finally broke the brief silence. "Bruce, Martha, Mark, Edward... I've decided to buy a train ticket back to the capital today."

The moment his words fell, the butter knife in Martha's hand clattered onto her plate. Egg yolk dripped over the edge, staining a small patch of the white tablecloth golden. She hurriedly bent to pick it up, her voice trembling with disbelief. "Back... back to the capital? Evan, you just got back a few days ago. Mark's situation was just resolved. Why are you leaving so suddenly?"

Bruce set down his knife and fork, leaning forward slightly. His tone was measured but carried an undeniable concern. "Did you run into some trouble in Sheffield? Last night... did you encounter danger again?" As the head of the household, he keenly sensed something off in his son's tone—it wasn't a simple "returning to school," but more like a hasty escape.

Mark also frowned, reaching out to pat Evan's arm. "Yeah, Evan, if there's something wrong, just tell us. We'll solve it together. You going back to the capital alone, unfamiliar with the place, might actually make things more dangerous."

Looking at his family's anxious faces, a wave of warmth surged in Evan's heart, yet he had to harden his resolve. He knew last night's assassination attempt was no accident. Staying in Sheffield would only drag his family into a whirlpool of danger. He had to return to the Knight Academy in the capital. There, he would have access to a more comprehensive system of supernatural knowledge and the protection of the Night Watch headquarters. Only by becoming stronger could he truly protect his family.

"I'm fine," Evan avoided their gazes, looking out the window at the slowly moving milkman. "It's just that I can't delay my academy courses any longer. And..." He paused, finally finding a relatively reasonable excuse. "There's more information available at the Supernatural Assembly in the capital. I want to improve my abilities as soon as possible. That way, if we encounter trouble in the future, I can protect you all better."

Alice blinked her big eyes, not fully understanding. She shook Mark's arm. "Big brother, is Evan going to learn more powerful magic? Like in the stories, the kind that can defeat bad guys?"

Evan forced a smile, reaching out to ruffle his sister's soft hair. "Something like that. Alice, be good and listen to Mom and Dad. When I come back, I'll bring you the capital's sweetest cream cake."

Martha's eyes reddened, but she held back her tears, turning to walk into the kitchen. Her voice came from behind the door, thick with emotion. "Then... then you must be careful on the journey. Take your heavy coat. The capital is much colder than Sheffield... I'll go pack your things right now..."

Bruce sighed, patting Evan's shoulder, and finally nodded. "Since you've made up your mind, I won't stop you. But remember, no matter what difficulties you face, home will always be your support. Once you reach the capital, write home immediately to let us know you're safe."

"I know, Dad," Evan's voice was slightly hoarse. He stood up. "I'll go to the station to buy a ticket now, try to catch the morning train."

Mark and Edward exchanged a look and also stood up. "We'll see you to the station."

Evan didn't refuse. Only as he turned did he secretly tighten his grip on the Exorcism Bullet tainted with dark energy in his pocket. The sunlight was still bright, the streets still peaceful, but he knew that from the moment he decided to return to the capital, the most dangerous chapter of his supernatural path had truly begun. And the family behind him would be his only light and anchor on this thorny road.

The afternoon sun streamed through the stained-glass windows on the third floor of the Imperial Knight Academy library, casting colorful religious patterns on the floor. Sarah Adams stood with his back to the stacks of supernatural tomes, his fingers lightly tapping the carved window frame.

*Click-clack.* The sound of flapping wings came from the windowsill. A raven, its feathers pitch black, landed precisely on his outstretched forearm. Its beak gently pecked at his knuckles, emitting low, raspy caws.

Sara tilted his head slightly, revealing a graceful jawline. He took a piece of hard rye biscuit from his uniform pocket, crumbled it between his fingers, and offered the crumbs to the raven's beak. The raven cocked its head, pecking at the food, its ruby-like eyes rolling. It quickly finished the biscuit and affectionately rubbed its head against his wrist.

Only then did Sara gently untie the silver message cylinder attached to the raven's leg, extracting a tightly rolled piece of parchment. He released his arm, and the raven fluttered to a nearby gilded perch, using its claws to play with the silver bell hanging there, producing clear, tinkling sounds. It then cocked its head again, as if awaiting his next command.

The moment he unrolled the parchment, Sara's fingers paused. The handwriting was messy yet carried a familiar sense of pressure. It was written with some kind of dark berry juice, the edges stained with faint streaks of crimson—a message delivered by his informant in Sheffield.

His gaze swept over the lines: "Supernatural assassination attempt failed," "Light Cleric intervened." A glint of amusement flashed in his obsidian-dark pupils. His fingers unconsciously rubbed the edge of the parchment. He suddenly let out a low chuckle, the cool sound echoing in the silent library, startling the raven on the perch into flapping its wings a few times.

"How interesting..."

The raven cocked its head and cawed twice, as if understanding the unspoken command. It spread its wings and took flight into the sunlight outside the window, soon becoming a black speck disappearing into the sky.