Chapter 41: Shadow Play

Chapter 41: Shadow Play

Cape Prison. Deep night.

Two guards on duty at the black cell entrance were enthusiastically gambling with dice. Gambling was prohibited by prison regulations, but privately no one took that rule seriously. Even if caught, it would only earn a few words of criticism.

One of the guards shook the dice cup vigorously, his face all twisted up with excitement. His opponent stared at him sullenly.

"Hey, why are you winning so much today? Are you cheating?"

"Why is it every time you lose, it's always this round?—Hey, did something just run past?"

The losing guard sneered: "Are you planning to cheat while I look away? You think such cheap tricks can fool me?!"

"No, I really did see something out of the corner of my eye just now, just 'whoosh'—"

He got suspicious and looked toward the black cell door. Torches flanked both sides, casting deep shadows in the flickering light. The door remained firmly locked, with only a small barred window above allowing a view inside—but it was utterly impossible for a person to pass through such a narrow gap.

"Could it be... a ghost?" He shuddered.

"Ghost, my ass!" the losing guard laughed and cursed. "It's gotta be rats! Ever since Captain Prew killed all the cats, rats have become a plague. Last time I even saw a black rat kneeling and kowtowing to a gray rat—now that's really something."

No sooner had he spoken than a silver-gray mouse popped out from a crack in the wall, giving them both a shifty look.

"See! See!" The losing guard was immensely pleased, as if he had just proven some universal truth.

The guard shaking the dice clicked his tongue: "Next time the supply ship comes, I'm gonna make them bring a cat—Open! Haha, three fives, I win again!"

"Damn it! And you still say you're not cheating?!"

The two guards grabbed each other by the collar and started arguing. The silver-gray mouse looked at them with disdain.

"Hmph, humans, wasting precious time on such boring stuff. How unambitious."

It shook its head vigorously, turned, and scurried up the stairs toward the prison's upper levels.

After rounding a corner, leaving the guards' bickering far behind, the mouse stopped. This was a landing halfway up the stairs, empty, with torchlight on the wall casting feeble light.

The mouse's nose twitched, whiskers trembling, as it paced in the torch's shadow, seemingly searching for something—but finding only dust and air.

"Mr. Lehman? Are you here?"

At its squeak, something emerged from the shadows.

It was a tall, skinny figure, wrapped head to toe in a tattered black cloak.

Looking closer, beneath the hood there was no face—only a bottomless darkness, as if this weren't a person in a cloak, but an empty cloak propped up by darkness and void.

The mouse stared at the shadow in awe: "Is it you, Mr. Lehman?"

The shadow stirred slightly, reached out a hand seemingly made entirely of darkness from beneath the cloak, and threw back the hood.

And there was Lyman's face.

"Whew!" Lyman exhaled, scooping up the mouse.

"Amazing!" the mouse squeaked. "How did you do that? You didn't even open the cell door, yet you're out! And it's like you're invisible—I can smell you, but I can't see you at all!"

Lyman glanced at the tattered cloak and smiled.

"Item Name: Shadow Play"

"Description: A ragged cloak that even a beggar would turn his nose up at. But look closely—it seems to be woven from shadows themselves. One who wears it shall become shadow incarnate, moving through shadows as easily as in sunlight. Know this: light and shadow are one."

This was the relic Sylen had found in the safe. It allowed the user to merge with shadows, moving swiftly through any shadowed area.

After Sylen "sacrificed" it to the Lord of the Abyss, Lyman couldn't wait to try it out that very night. Donning it, he melted into the shadows, slipped through the barred window of the cell door into the corridor's darkness, then swiftly past the guard room, escaping prison with ease.

Even better, wearing the cloak concealed his true appearance—his face and body turned entirely into ink-black darkness, resembling the form he'd first taken when appearing before Sylen.

"Isn't this way better than the Blade of Revelation? It doesn't even cost a mouse to open doors—any crack or shadow lets you pass freely! Of course, for a door with no gap at all, you'd still need the Blade of Revelation."

"Fergus's ancestor must have used 'Shadow Play' to assassinate competitors back in the day, amassing a fortune. But by Fergus's generation, the family's fierce spirit was gone—he wouldn't use it himself, or didn't dare to, and wouldn't let his men use it either. Otherwise, the transport station wouldn't have had a prayer against him."

Lyman silently laughed at Fergus. Your relic was nice—now it's really "your relic"! I'll gladly take it off your hands!

Of course, Shadow Play had its drawbacks: it couldn't be used in complete darkness, and blazing sunlight would greatly weaken it. But in a closed, dim building like Cape Prison, "Shadow Play" was in its element.

"Come to think of it, there are a lot of parts of Cape Prison I've never explored," Lyman mused. "Since I'm here, might as well take a nighttime tour."

He tucked the mouse into his sleeve, pulled up his hood, and merged into the shadows again. Dandelion felt herself becoming part of the shadow too, her tiny body darting through darkness at speeds she'd never imagined, letting out an involuntary "Wheee!"

Lyman slipped into the first-floor cell block. This was where most prisoners were held. Unlike the luxurious single cells in the black cells, each cell on this floor housed at least four inmates. They slept on moldy straw, wrapped in rags to keep warm.

Carlos was in a cell in the middle section. Maybe due to his special status, he had only one cellmate—Ugo. Both were snoring loudly, their snores rattling the walls.

In the last cell down the hall, Lyman spotted Nikola. His three cellmates were asleep, but he sat in the corner with a candle, absorbed in something.

Lyman wondered where the candle came from, then realized—as a "spy," Nikola could get plenty of perks from the Inquisitor, and candles were likely among them.

The candlelight lit up the scholar's focused face, casting a long shadow behind him. Lyman slipped directly into that shadow, peering over his shoulder.

"...Yes, this word means procedure? Regulation? No, it should be ritual! Perform the ritual, then... hmm, why is this conjugation so complicated..."

The scholar held the document Lyman and Carlos had found on the underground corpse, utterly absorbed in deciphering its ancient script, completely unaware that a tall, gaunt shadow had risen behind him, extending its slender neck forward...

"Who?!" Nikola spun around, but found nothing behind him.

"Heh, scaring myself." He patted his chest and dove back into the sea of knowledge.

Lyman slipped out of the cell and headed upstairs. From the second floor up were the guards' quarters and offices. The guard duty room's door was wide open; tonight's watch was Deputy Captain Edton. He sat by the window, holding a purple wildflower, plucking petals one by one.

"She loves me, she loves me not, she loves me..."

The last petal was "loves me not." Edton let out a heart-wrenching wail, collapsing onto the windowsill in quiet sobs like a lovesick youth. Who his affections were for, Lyman could guess with his toes.

Nothing good will come of getting involved with cultists! Wake up, Edton!

Lyman shook his head and moved on. He wanted to visit the Warden's office, but the door was tightly locked with not a crack to be found, so he gave up.

Crossing the drawbridge, he reached the auxiliary tower. The Inquisitor's office door was slightly ajar, warm bright candlelight spilling out. Lyman worried they might have relics or curiosities that could detect invisible beings, so he didn't dare enter, only observing quietly from the shadow behind the door.

Aether sat behind the desk, writing furiously. It was deep night, yet he was still working. A true born workaholic!

His tireless dedication, however, had utterly failed to inspire his companion—Nashel sat at the side of the desk, feet casually propped up on it, holding a palm-sized book titled *The Romantic Knight and the Fair Widow*.

"Hehe, so perverted..." Nashel wriggled and giggled as he read.

Now Lyman knew where Dandelion had learned the word "perverted." Honestly! Corrupting the youth!

Lehman thoroughly scorned Nashel, stepping back from the door. He wandered through the prison once more, visiting the kitchen, the archive room, and the armory. With the aid of Shadow Play, he strolled through the prison as if it were his own backyard. Since arriving at Cape Prison, he had spent his nights confined to the barren black cell; suddenly granted so much freedom, he found it momentarily disorienting.

He melted into the shadows and strode boldly out of the prison gates. The guards on the watchtower saw absolutely nothing!

"So... I'm out?"

Standing outside the prison, Lehman gazed at the torchlight on the watchtower and the imposing silhouette of the main building under the dim moonlight, feeling that everything was going almost unrealistically smoothly.

Just days ago, he had thought escaping was an impossible task—either relying on the cultists or waiting patiently for the tunnel to be completed, and he had even been anxious about Ugo's injury. Yet now, in just a few days, the tide had turned, and he was out!

"Wait, this doesn't count as a successful escape yet," Lehman thought. "Only leaving this island truly means freedom. Can Shadow Play help me cross the sea?"

Since I'm here, why not try it now?

Lehman transformed into shadow, darting swiftly under the moonlight to the completely open seaside. He dissolved his shadow state and stepped onto the sand. Waves surged onto the shore and receded with rhythmic sounds. Moonlight cast silver fragments across the undulating sea, while stars twinkled overhead. The eternal starlight solemnly spilled across the horizon, watching over every insignificant mortal equally.

Dandelion poked his head out from Lehman's sleeve, hesitantly asking, "Mr. Lehman, are you leaving?"

His tone was sorrowful, reluctant to part.

Lehman rubbed his little head with his thumb and set him down on the sand. "I'm just testing. Even if I make it to the other side, I'll come back."

After all, he had promised to take Luna with him when they escaped, and he had also vowed to punch him hard. Don't underestimate the power of a promise!

Lehman rubbed his hands together, loosened up, and transformed into a shadow, diving swiftly into the sea. Dandelion propped himself up on his hind legs, watching as the shadow shot toward the ocean like a nimble black serpent, or like the swift shadow cast by a bird soaring under the moonlight.

The little mouse gazed at the horizon, recalling the joyful times shared with Lehman, clasped his paws together, and sincerely prayed: "Mr. Lehman, may you have a smooth jour—"

Before he could finish, Lehman's head emerged from the water, stumbling back onto the beach.

"Wow! You made a round trip that fast?" Dandelion exclaimed.

"I found out... even as a shadow, I still need air in the water."

Lehman spat out a mouthful of seawater, feeling like the world-famous Merlion of Singapore.

Even as a shadow, he could move quickly through the shadows beneath the sea, but his lung capacity didn't improve. Before long, Lehman felt his lungs about to burst and had to retreat in defeat.

The little mouse comforted him: "It's okay, Mr. Lehman. Holding your breath for a minute is already impressive!"

Given Shadow Play's speed, crossing to the other side of the strait would require holding his breath for at least ten minutes. Impossible for a human.

Dissolving the shadow state midway to float to the surface for air was also impossible, because the moment he dissolved, he'd be at the bottom of the sea. For a landlubber, the only way he'd float up would be as a corpse.

"Wait, can 'Animal Friend' summon sea creatures to help?"

Riding on the back of a big fish across the sea—just imagining it sounded awesome!

Lehman waded into knee-deep water, enduring the cold, and plunged his head underwater.

A moment later, he lifted his head, spat out water, and brushed his wet silver hair from his forehead.

"No good. Fish are too stupid to communicate with. No dolphins or whales in these waters, either..."

That meant he still needed a boat to cross the sea. With Shadow Play, he could sneak out every night and build a raft, but with only five days until the full moon, there wasn't enough time...

"If I had chosen 'Artisan' back then, I could probably whip up a small boat in no time. It seems the Supernatural Abilities from the Book of the Evil God are all useful, but the timing is just off..."

Lehman muttered to himself.

"Wait, why do I need to build a boat myself? Isn't there one already available?"

The Holy Nation sends a supply ship every month to transport goods the island can't produce, deliver letters to the guards, and bring new prisoners.

There's no shortage of shadows on the ship, so Lehman could easily hide among them and reach the opposite shore safely, conveniently, and comfortably!

Of course, on the day the supply ship leaves, if a prisoner goes missing, even a fool would guess he stowed away.

But what if the prison authorities found Lehman's "corpse"?

Aren't there classic mystery novel tricks where the killer disfigures the victim's face to mislead identification? Lehman could do the same! Find a corpse, dress it in his clothes, disfigure its face—who would ever suspect it wasn't Lehman himself?

As for who killed this "Lehman" and why he disfigured him, leave that to the Inquisitors to puzzle over! While they searched for answers, Lehman would be long gone—or rather, racing toward freedom!

Conveniently, Sylen's Divine Casket contained three corpses. He could pick the one most similar to his build and, in the process, solve Sylen's "easy to kill, hard to dispose" dilemma.

Lehman had arrived on the knight order's ship, and the two Inquisitors had come on the supply ship. Counting the days, a new supply ship would arrive in about ten days.

"It looks like I'll have to wait until the full moon night. The piece Livia mentioned will definitely come to contact me that day. I'm not going back to the cult with him—whoever wants that can have it. Anyway, I'll try to convince him to abandon his escape plan and use mine instead. Once I'm free, the cult will never find me again."

With that decided, Lehman cradled the little mouse and melted back into shadow, slipping back into the prison.

He knocked on the wall, wanting to ask Lunast how he planned to escape together—he wasn't sure if Shadow Play could work on two people, and if not, Luna would have to flee with Carlos's group or risk hiding on the supply ship. Also, he still didn't know how to break Luna's seal; he'd need the neighbor's personal guidance.

But no matter how long Lehman knocked, there was no response from next door. This was rare—Luna had always been responsive before. Lehman felt a pang of disappointment, but thinking it was already past midnight, perhaps even the sealed needed sleep, he didn't disturb further.

***

For the next three days, Lehman followed his usual routine. After returning the Message Conch to Carlos, he asked about Ugo's condition. Hearing that Ugo's arm was still withered, Lehman relayed Luna's advice to "get more sun and rest." Carlos found it odd but had no better options, so he decided to try Lehman's suggestion.

Lehman kept an eye out for any stranger trying to approach him. But the days were calm; only Carlos and the scholar came to chat. Even the Inquisitors seemed to have lost interest in him. After a few days without their interrogations, Lehman found it strangely unsettling.

Moreover, Luna still didn't respond to Lehman's calls. His knuckles were nearly swollen from knocking, yet silence persisted next door. He muttered to himself, but was at a loss.

Worried about potential trouble on the full moon night, Lehman planned to stockpile supplies. Using the identity of Xiaoqi, he asked Sylen to prepare some food and water for "brothers in the faith within the prison."

Sylen, now acting as Fergus, had no trouble obtaining food. He quickly stuffed a large bundle into the Divine Casket—dried rations that could last long and a few bottles of wine. In an era with poor sanitation, drinking water directly could cause illness, so wine was a safer choice for quenching thirst.

Weapons and armor weren't needed from Sylen; Lehman had the Blade of Revelation for the former, and he wasn't used to wearing the latter. Besides, with Shadow Play, he could spend most of his time as shadow to dodge attacks, making armor unnecessary.

Everything was ready, and finally, the eve of the full moon arrived.

In the black cell, Lehman took out his blanket and lay down anxiously.

Tomorrow was the full moon. Would the piece Livia arranged really come? What method had they prepared? Could he convince them?

"Sigh, worrying now is pointless. Even Luna doesn't know who the piece is. The cult's reach is truly unfathomable—able to plant a spy in the safest place in the Holy Nation..."

Lehman closed his eyes, his mind a whirl, yet he drifted into sleep surprisingly easily.

Suddenly, his palm burned as if scorched by fire. At the same time, a girl's pained moan reached his ears:

"Xiaoqi... gods... save me..."

Lehman shot up from his bed. If he heard right, it was the voice of the dwarven girl Tove Stone Flame!

"Help... it's so dark here... it hurts..."

Hadn't Tove become an apprentice to the dwarf master and gone to the Holy Nation colony with her friend? How could this be?

Lehman quickly summoned the Book of the Evil God, focusing his mind on Tove's voice.

His soul left his body, crossed vast stretches of time and space, and landed right where the dwarven girl was.

Everything was pitch black.

Lyman looked around, but all he could see was darkness so thick he couldn't see his own hand in front of his face.

"Tove?" he called out. "Are you there?"

"I'm here..."

A weak voice came from somewhere nearby—the dwarven girl's.

"Are you hurt?" Lyman flew toward the sound of her voice. "I can't see you at all! Am I blind, or is it just this dark in here?"

"I can see you, though..." There was a bitter smile in her voice. "You're so bright, like a ball of light... but sadly, you can't light up anything around us..."

"What in the world is this place?"

Tove gasped in pain, and in a voice that sounded like it came from hell itself, she said, "This is... the Mouth of the Earth."

***

One day earlier. It was afternoon on the southern continent, at the border of New Saint Palaso, a colony of the Holy Nation.

An unusual caravan galloped across the endless grasslands.

Tove Stone Flame rode a rock lizard, enjoying the refreshing morning breeze on her face. The lizard beneath her moved with steady strides, maintaining a remarkable balance even at full speed. These bipedal lizards were pack animals domesticated by the dwarves. Similar in size to a donkey, they could adapt to mines and underground environments, making them excellent helpers for the dwarves.

Tove's group consisted of eight such lizards—four carrying luggage, and the other four carrying riders.

Leading the group was Tove's mentor, Master Goldshield. This dwarf was getting on in years, with a snow-white beard and eyebrows that nearly covered his eyes, but he remained robust, swinging his hammer with a vigor that rivaled any young dwarf. Master Goldshield had organized this trip himself, after being invited by the governor of New Saint Palaso to work for him. He brought along three students to assist him and broaden their horizons.

Behind Master Goldshield, his senior apprentice, Dwarin Thunder-Anvil, followed at a leisurely pace. This senior apprentice preferred burying his nose in books over swinging a hammer. He was a man of few words, and Tove held him in some awe, not daring to speak too much with him.

Riding alongside Tove was her good friend, Harald Forgefire. This young dwarf, the same age as Tove, was curious about everything and often fell to the back of the group while gazing at the scenery. Tove had to keep an eye on him at all times to ensure he didn't lag behind.

That said, Tove herself often got lost in the sights, so she was hardly in a position to criticize Harald.

This was Tove's first time ever leaving the Volcanic Mountains. Everything in the outside world thrilled her. The rolling grasslands, wild animals she had only seen in books before, and the vast, boundless blue sky that nearly made her dizzy... not to mention that they were about to enter human society!

Humans! Although dwarves and humans had traded for thousands of years, few humans had ever been granted the honor of entering dwarven city-states. Tove had never seen a single one.

Now she was not only going to see many humans, but also live in human territory for a good while, and deal with them face to face. This filled the dwarven girl with both anticipation and fear.

"Master, what kind of place is New Saint Palaso?" Tove asked uneasily.

"Haha, don't be nervous. New Saint Palaso sounds impressive, but it's not a big city—it's just a small town," Master Goldshield chuckled. "There used to be many native villages there, but then the Saintlanders came south, spread their faith among them, and established a colony. The renowned 'moonlight salt' of the north is produced there."

"Moonlight salt?" Tove had never heard of such a thing.

"It's a very precious spice, said to be worth its weight in gold, and it's highly sought after in the north. The Holy Nation has amassed great wealth by monopolizing its production."

Harald asked curiously, "Master, have you been to New Saint Palaso before?"

"No, but keeping an eye on market trends is an essential skill for a craftsman!" Master Goldshield said proudly, puffing out his chest. "This time, the governor plans to commission some jewelry pieces, so he approached the Volcanic City Craftsmen's Guild and found me. Coincidentally, I have a friend who's working there as a consultant, and I plan to visit him along the way. It's been decades since we last met!"

Tove asked, "Is the governor that wealthy?"

Master Goldshield laughed heartily. "You'd be surprised, but being governor isn't easy. Without a strong network, you'd quickly be removed and replaced by someone with more 'influence.' So the governor has to spend his own money to 'grease the wheels.' Why else do you think he'd specially hire dwarves to craft jewelry?"

"But in the end, the money he spends will surely be recouped many times over," Harald said sourly.

Master Goldshield said, "Alright, human affairs are for humans—none of our business as mere dwarves. We just need to do our job and finish the commission."

Tove and Harald quickly fell silent and nodded vigorously.

When the sun reached its highest point in the sky, a shadowy group of riders appeared ahead. Tove couldn't make out their faces, only that they were a group of horsemen whose weapons reflected the blinding sunlight.

"That must be the escort sent by the governor to protect us," Master Goldshield chuckled.

The young dwarves were about to remark, "The governor sure knows how to treat his guests," when suddenly they heard something whistling through the air.

An arrow cut through the air, flying straight at them, and struck the luggage lizard at the back of the group.