Phil suddenly leapt. Beneath his coat was a tubular object filled with volatile fuel and a long, lit fuse, ready to explode.

Alchemical dynamite!

“For a moon that will never rise!” Phil shouted loudly.

Charlotte sensed the fuel’s instability and, with a mere thought, suppressed the impending explosion, calming the chaos within the artifact.

The fuse burned to the end, but the dynamite did not detonate.

Phil realized this was the work of the two women before him. Without hesitation, he drew a short knife and, before Caroline could stop him, plunged it into Hunter’s neck, twisting the blade.

The execution was precise and clean, a clear indication he had done it before. Hunter fell to the ground, clutching his neck as blood poured through his fingers.

With a single kick, Caroline sent Phil’s knife flying and, in a swift motion, immobilized him. However, Phil offered a sinister smile.

His skin turned bluish, his breathing became labored, and he murmured a word laden with magic before lowering his head and dying.

“It’s poison, miss,” Caroline said, dropping the lifeless body. She turned to the other men unconscious on the ground. Three were dead, but thankfully, one was still alive for interrogation.

Charlotte mentally repeated the word Phil had uttered before dying. It seemed strangely familiar, though its meaning remained a mystery.

“A word like ‘sheet’ or ‘tray’? Why would he say something like that before dying? Could it be some kind of ritual?”

Suddenly, Charlotte realized the word was not from the common language of the Wenze Empire but from an ancient tongue used by alchemists, which she had studied briefly.

The exact meaning still eluded her, but she knew it was often used in alchemical contexts, both in white alchemy and in more obscure fields.

“Caroline, get back!” Charlotte shouted in alarm, gripping the hilt of her greatsword and rushing toward her.

Caroline, who was about to inspect one of the unconscious men, immediately stepped back. At that moment, the head of the man on the ground split into four parts, revealing sharp, tooth-like edges that expanded like a carnivorous plant, attempting to seize the space where Caroline had been.

If she hadn’t moved back, she would surely have been caught by those monstrous claws.

Charlotte’s greatsword pierced the creature’s center, halting its advance. The sharp “petals” slashed furiously, leaving deep marks on the floor and walls, but they couldn’t reach Charlotte.

The man, now transformed into a monster, remained on the ground. His spine protruded from his body, tearing through flesh as it extended and sharpened, aiming to impale Charlotte.

With one hand holding the greatsword and the other wielding her mysterious black box, Charlotte defended herself. The box released sharp blades that severed the spine into multiple pieces.

“AAAAAHHH!”

The monster roared. Though writhing in pain, it continued to fight. Charlotte then murmured the same word Phil had used, and the blade of her sword began to glow with blue runes. An intense white flame enveloped the weapon, burning everything it touched.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

The monster reacted as though drenched in oil and set ablaze. In an instant, it began to burn violently. Though its body was in agony, the light emanating from the flames seemed to bring it an unexpected peace. Amid the fire, it saw images of its deceased wife holding their child and waving at him.

She looked as beautiful as on their wedding day, without the signs of suffering caused by her illness.

The monster stopped struggling and surrendered to the flames, which reduced it to ashes. If it could smile, it might have done so.

The wind scattered its ashes, but the scent of blood still lingered in the air. Charlotte sheathed her sword as a wave of dizziness caused her to step back. It was her first time using that sacred fire.

“Miss,” Caroline approached, concerned about Charlotte’s pale face. “Are you hurt? What was that?”

Charlotte looked at the ashes floating in the wind and replied, “I don’t know either. The sword’s blessing altered the alchemical fire. I don’t know what to call it.”

She began reflecting on the word Phil had spoken. It didn’t seem to be a command to activate red alchemy but rather something that altered an existing alchemical process.

Curious, Charlotte tried applying the same concept to the alchemical fire, resulting in a reaction with the sacred runes on the sword, creating a more powerful and seemingly purifying flame.

The nature of the fire was still unknown, and there was room for improvement. Perhaps she could investigate it further at the local alchemists’ guild.

Charlotte was eager to visit the Alchemists’ Guild immediately. She was certain Wenze did not possess this type of White Alchemy, and if she published a paper on it first, it could cause a significant stir, bringing her one step closer to her father.

Her father had been honored as a Philosopher Knight thanks to the secret technique of the Golden Flame. Charlotte didn’t expect to earn a gold-level medal with a single flame, but finding a field her father hadn’t explored was enough to make her happy.

Charlotte was so absorbed in her thoughts that she barely noticed Caroline calling her name. When she returned to reality, she saw Caroline holding an emblem taken from Phil’s body.

The emblem was a red crescent moon with the figure of a man in a top hat carved inside.

“Probably a cult identification,” Caroline suggested. “This confirms that Phil was indeed a cultist.”

Charlotte observed the emblem for a moment before teasing, “You can keep it, sister~”

Charlotte deliberately prolonged the word “sister.” She always wished Caroline could be her real sister since they shared the same father.

However, Caroline made a point of keeping a distance between them, preventing them from becoming too close. She always said, “You only need to use me as a tool, like using your own fingers.” Even with the responsibility of being her guardian, entrusted by their grandfather, Caroline remained humble.

She won’t even let me hug her to sleep!

In an act of retaliation, Charlotte tightly held Caroline’s arm, hugging it as a silent form of revenge.

“Miss, what should we do with the bodies?” Caroline asked, trying to change the subject.

Charlotte bit her lip, thinking for a moment.

“Should we return them to their families?”

Caroline, already accustomed to Charlotte’s eccentric ideas, sighed. “And then we’d say, ‘Hello, we killed your relative’? I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Then let’s call the police? After all, they were bad people.”

If Charlotte and Caroline had been ordinary girls, they would have certainly been killed.

“The police would try to find out who killed them.”

“We can’t just leave them here, can we?”

For Charlotte, no matter how wicked a person had been in life, their remains still deserved respect.

Charlotte considered another solution, but Caroline took the initiative to use alchemy to reduce the bodies to ashes, explaining that it would be simpler and more respectful.

“That settles it. The police won’t waste time investigating the disappearance of people like this. Cremation isn’t disrespectful to the bodies either.”

During the witch wars, many soldiers died far from home. The queen ordered their bodies cremated and the ashes sent back to their families, both to prevent sorcerers from desecrating the remains and to allow the families to pay their respects. Since then, cremation had become a tradition in Wenze.

Though reluctant, Charlotte accepted it but couldn’t help questioning, “What if they were good people?”

“The results would be the same, miss,” Caroline replied.

“But that’s not how it happens in books.”

The detectives in her mother’s novels fought for ordinary people, even the poor. They braved dangers fearlessly, all in the name of justice.

“It’s precisely because it doesn’t exist in reality that people seek solace in books,” Caroline replied.