Chapter 55
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 55
Chapter Title: IlaiZa (3)
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- Flap.
With a restrained motion, the black wings stirred, sending a sharp whistle of wind past her ears.
A massive crow sliced through the sky at ferocious speed.
Eliza's face, emerging from the clouds, carried a subtle tension.
"No way it's real."
Just two hours earlier.
Upon arriving at the northern border of the Crossroad Kingdom, she had seen two public notices.
Recently at the southern border, a shapeshifter caused a terrorist act, was captured, and is scheduled for execution...
The interrogation of the shapeshifter who disrupted border order is complete. The execution will be held Wednesday evening in the plaza before Reyes Margrave's castle.
All about the shapeshifter.
'Shahal.'
When she first read it, Eliza let out a sigh of relief.
Changelings were such a rare race that they were often mistaken for shapeshifters.
And mages were the sort who rarely committed crimes.
Especially not at a sensitive place like the border.
So that 'shapeshifter' was clearly a name slapped on by people who hadn't grasped Shahal's true identity.
'So there really was a lead.'
Her sister being captured meant, conversely, that she was staying put in one place right now, not wandering.
'She's not so weak she'll get beaten or killed somewhere.'
She was probably toying with the jailers in her cell.
And when the time came, she'd transform into an animal and break out, no doubt.
There was no way a highly trained changeling like her sister—who could turn into any furry animal—would fall so easily.
But what gnawed at her was something else.
The execution date was yesterday.
And there was zero news of Shahal's escape.
'It should have been headline news.'
The punishment of a major criminal was always welcome gossip.
So regardless of how it went down, word should have spread.
But strangely, there was utter silence.
She'd sent out crows and scoured for more intel, but nothing new came up.
As if someone was suppressing the information.
Her fierce wingbeats grew faster, wilder, whipping around her.
Omen.
It was ill tidings, an unlucky being, a symbol of misfortune.
Eliza muttered to herself like a whisper.
"Just check the south. The south."
Her head knew.
The news might be fake.
Shahal could slip out even if caught.
And the margrave, that noble, might be keeping quiet to hide it.
Plenty of possibilities.
But her heart, as always, squeezed tight.
Omens had no luck.
That was the truth Eliza had lived her whole life.
'Please, just this once.'
Praying for an exception to exist, she accelerated toward the southern border.
About two hours later.
- Whoosh.
Eliza flapped her black wings and landed lightly in a corner of the southern plaza.
She slowly wrapped her wings around her body, transforming into an elegant figure draped in a feathered dress.
But something was off.
A massive harpy had plummeted from the sky, yet the people's reaction was utterly lackluster.
"Huh? Where's this wind coming from?"
"Hey! What are you looking at!?"
"It ain't my fault the wind flipped your skirt!"
Ignoring the bewildered chatter, Eliza gently touched the artifact hanging around her neck.
- Hummm.
A magical tool emitting a strange resonance.
It was a perception-lowering artifact that made it hard to sense the wearer's presence.
Combined with hiding in shadows, no one could spot her.
Not even register her existence.
Thanks to it, Eliza could go out without disguises or concealment.
Raven harpies drew hostile stares wherever they went.
- Ill omens bring ill news! Get lost!
Due to that damned superstition, how much bullying and near-torture violence had she endured since childhood?
And it was a gift suddenly brought by Shahal one day.
'Not the time to get lost in memories.'
Snapping back to focus.
Slipping into a narrow alley away from the crowds, she spoke quietly in the harpy tongue.
"Killika Kasilia. (= Borrow the wisdom of birds.)"
- Flutter flutter.
Crows flew in from all directions, perching around her.
- Caw, caw.
- Caw!
It seemed every crow in the area had gathered.
Looking at them, Eliza said,
"I need info on yesterday's execution. Tell me everything you've heard."
She closed her eyes and focused her mind.
Then, fragments of memories and sensations flooded in from hundreds of crows.
[Execution... canceled...]
[...will proceed privately.]
[Terrorist smuggling...]
[Immigration Control... Central...]
Countless conversations, scents, and sights flashed by.
The Raven Harpy's ability.
Mental communion with kindred birds.
This power to fully assimilate their senses and memories formed the Black Hand's unique intel network.
Through it, Eliza always moved faster than any other assassin guild.
Birds were everywhere, and no one paid them mind—that made it possible.
And moments later.
Eliza pieced together hundreds of memories and thousands of fragments into one conclusion.
[For safety reasons, the shapeshifter's execution was held privately in the underground dungeon.]
In that coldly detached phrasing.
"..."
Silence.
She focused again, recombining for another conclusion.
But the result was the same.
[Held privately.]
[Carried out in the underground dungeon.]
Past tense.
It was saying the execution was already over.
"...Ha."
A hollow laugh escaped.
She touched the artifact around her neck without a word.
The gift from her blood sister that had never left her body.
- Sis, don't think about anything else. As long as we're happy, that's enough. Tell the rest to screw off.
She gripped it until it threatened to shatter.
"...Shahal."
This was a lie.
It had to be.
Who announces a private execution and gives the location?
'Too sloppy.'
Like someone kindly dangling info right in her face, waiting for her to bite.
Her head knew.
'This is a trap.'
Only fools would fall for it.
Just scoff and leave.
But her heart...
It boiled over.
Even if fake, this crossed the line.
- Caw! Caaaaw!!!
The crows, sensing her emotions, began shrieking madly.
As if anticipating what was to come.
Her obsidian eyes turned toward the distant margrave's castle.
"The underground dungeon, was it."
The omen did not hesitate.
Those who toyed with the Black Hand had to pay the price.
- Screeech, thud!
With a heavy thud, Eliza plunged down right before the underground dungeon entrance.
"Ugh...!"
"Grk, wh-what the...!?"
Amid the panicked cries, the guards at the entrance stumbled back.
Then, seeing the over-two-meter Raven Harpy, their eyes widened.
Artifact deactivated.
Without hesitation, she said,
"Out of my way."
No, she almost wished the guards would try to block her.
She planned to rip out the hearts of anyone in her path anyway.
So she'd landed loudly, revealing herself brazenly.
But something was wrong.
Normally, such a flashy entrance would prompt signals or an attempt to subdue her.
Yet the entrance guards, after initial shock, showed no reaction.
Just staring at Eliza.
"..."
"..."
An awkward silence.
Her gaze met the eight men standing at the entrance.
Then she realized the source of her unease.
"You're... not guards."
They wore no heavy armor, lightly armed.
In fact, incongruously neat suits.
One of them spoke.
"IlaiZa Corbus. We've been waiting."
An unexpected response.
Eliza fell silent for a moment.
"You knew I'd come."
"We spread the info, after all."
"Info?"
"We're agents on special assignment. Specifically, to greet you."
He stepped aside, clearing the path to the entrance.
"The one you're looking for is in the innermost room."
"..."
Another unforeseen reaction.
They knew.
Her identity, and why she was here.
Eliza's face twisted.
"What the hell is this?"
"Showing you the truth."
"...Ha. The truth."
A scoff slipped out.
Obvious trap to anyone.
One begging her to walk in.
But she couldn't retreat.
Not when it involved her sister, and she'd heard she was here.
She had to confirm with her own eyes.
In a voice dripping with killing intent, she said,
"Lead the way."
Thus, she folded her wings and stepped into the trap of her own accord.
About five minutes later.
Deep in the prison after a long descent.
The final cell.
The agent pointed to the barred door.
"Here. Go in."
"..."
She opened it.
- Creak.
The first thing that caught her eye was
the coffin.
A fine casket placed neatly in the center of the cell.
Utterly out of place in an underground dungeon.
This was a place to hold the living, not the dead.
She turned to the followers.
"...What's inside?"
But the agent didn't answer.
Just gestured to the coffin with his eyes.
And Eliza could intuit what that meant.
Ominous.
- Omen. You're an omen.
People's words swirled in her mind.
And at the same time,
- Sis, tell 'em all to fuck off. We just gotta live well. Just us Black Hand. Everyone else can die.
Her sister's words that shattered it all echoed too.
Who was in there to warrant this?
Who were these people treating her like this?
All the answers lay in that coffin.
Slowly, very slowly.
She opened it.
- Creak.
Please.
If luck existed, if it could grant her just once in her life.
Let this be that moment.
Let it not be what she thought.
- Thunk.
With a heavy sound, the coffin fully opened.
Eliza's eyes dropped down.
And she saw it.
"...Ah."
Those all-too-familiar eyes she could never forget.
Purple eyes stared back.
Her sister's eyes, wide in pain and terror, withered and unclosed.
Silence.
Eliza said nothing.
She didn't know what to say.
"..."
Instead, she quietly took her twisted sister's hand.
Cold.
The chill conveyed one fact.
The Black Hand's sub-master was dead.
Omen.
Once again, no luck.
Just tragedy.
Her chest tore open.
From deep in her throat, a hideous bird's scream erupted.
It was a wail.
A roar that shook the entire prison.
Her feathers quivered across her body, claws gouging the floor.
"Kr, uuurgh!!"
"Ears, my ears...!"
The agents clutched their ears, staggering.
Harpy cries carried power.
And the more emotion infused, the more wretched, the stronger it twisted surroundings.
And warped the body itself, to match the emotion.
Amid the echoing wail, the Raven Harpy spoke.
"For guiding me to my sister, I'll ask you once."
- Crack, crunch.
With eerie sounds, her wings began to expand.
Her somewhat human-like legs twisted grotesquely; her already two-meter height grew taller.
The once smooth, soft feathers sharpened like blades, hardened like steel.
"M-my God..."
An agent gaped.
Despite years in intelligence, he'd never seen such a sight.
The true form of the Black Hand master.
No longer the ominous yet elegant, beautiful black swan—a massive, twisted omen loomed before the coffin, lamenting.
Blade-feathers thrashed wildly, craving blood.
blood for vengeance.
"Who made Shahal like this."
"Th-the shapeshifter's death isn't our responsibility!"
One agent overcame the pressure and spoke.
"During interrogation, she tried to reveal the truth but got caught in a curse—"
"How do I know that's true?"
A sharp interruption.
"What proof do you have that you didn't frame someone else after doing this?"
Bloodshot eyes glared at the agent.
Her feathers all bristled backward, aimed at him.
As if the slightest move would shred him.
She'd heard through the crows.
'Someone blocked Shahal's mission right in front of her.'
She needed to know who.
These people might be lying.
No one could be trusted easily.
Eliza spat,
"You couldn't even grasp my sister's true identity..."
If anyone was linked even slightly, she'd rip out every last heart.
Swearing it inwardly, she slowly spread her wings.
This would be the start.
Blood would force the truth.
That was when.
"Changeling. She's a changeling."
A tense woman's voice came from behind.
- Snap!
She whipped around, locking eyes on the one who spoke truth.
And her eyes widened at the identity.
Eliza spoke in genuine confusion for the first time.
"S-Saintess...?"
The woman with golden eyes.
Erzena slowly stepped forward.
"Why are you here...?"
The pilgrimage group had been denied entry.
Why was this woman here?
Sorrow and rage now mixed with questions.
The saintess spoke tensely.
"I'll vouch that everything I say from now is the truth."
The Raven Harpy realized.
This wasn't a trap.
Something far more dangerous. Much more.
Erzena opened her mouth.
"The Evil God Cult's saintess, Haten Silla, killed your sister."
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