Chapter 587: The Monster Behind the Mask
Ethan snapped back to himself and glanced into his Mindscape. Three tiny figures stood on separate little islands to the east, west, and north, staring at the sky with yearning eyes. His head throbbed. How many of these little ones were running around in his mind now? It was turning into a kindergarten. Still, he didn’t hesitate. Another flash of white light, and three more figures appeared—a girl and two boys.
The girl was Aqua, the spirit artifact of the Clearspring City Seal. Gale, the boy on the western island, came from the Hurricane City Seal. The last was the strangest: a squat lump of pitch-black coal that could somehow move and fight. That one was Oblivion, born from the Mark of Oblivion. Ethan didn’t even have to guess—these names had all been chosen by Luna.
"Hahahaha! Charge!" Luna shouted, brandishing her tiny silver spear like a commander. She led the charge against the three ghostly infants, her four spirit companions rushing in after her. Only Aqua hung back, nibbling on her finger with wide, nervous eyes, but even she trailed along at the rear. Before Ethan knew it, only Yaya remained by his side.
Celeste Hawthorne approached slowly, looking uncertain. "These things... they won’t cause trouble, will they?"
Ethan shook his head. "No. Let them play. Their true forms are safe in my Mindscape. As long as those remain, they’re like angels with resurrection—no matter how many times they fall, they’ll come back."
For a moment, Director Vaughn had believed his trump card would guarantee Ethan’s capture. But instead of panicking, Ethan seemed more at ease than ever. Earlier, the sight of the Ghost Parasites had unsettled him. Now, though, his summoned spirits were tearing through them with alarming ease.
Every parasite except the three ghostly infants had already been shredded by a short-haired boy in a white bellyband. That was Gale, spirit of the Hurricane City Seal, whose single-target attacks were the deadliest. From his hands whipped thin blades of wind, slicing cleanly through anything they touched.
Beastie was just as fearsome. With the flick of his wrist he conjured a sealed domain as casually as breathing, enclosing enemies as if it were child’s play. Oblivion, despite looking like nothing more than a lump of coal, was sheer brute force. A single punch from his stubby arms sent one of the ghostly infants crashing into the ground.
"Hit him, hit him, hit him!" Luna yelled, throwing herself into the role of little general. She jabbed her silver spear left and right, barking out orders with wild enthusiasm. Under her lead, Beastie, Oblivion, and Gale attacked in bursts—sometimes swarming the water-elemental ghostly infant, sometimes the earth one, sometimes turning on the dark, metallic one.
Behind them, Aqua lingered, still biting her finger and blinking with anxious hesitation. She hadn’t lifted a hand yet. Ethan was beginning to suspect she was meant for support rather than direct combat.
Celeste, watching from the side, could hardly believe her eyes. What should have been a life-or-death battle had turned into a rowdy game. The little spirits fought like children at play, but their power was undeniable. Even so, the ghostly infants were tenacious. Blown apart one moment, they simply pulled themselves back together the next.
"Aqua! What are you doing? Come help!" Luna finally snapped, grabbing the timid girl and giving her a shove toward the fight.
"O-okay..." Aqua mumbled, biting her finger again. She stepped forward—then froze, doing nothing at all.
Across the battlefield, Director Vaughn fell silent. His expression hardened as he fixed his eyes on Ethan and Celeste, his thoughts unreadable.
"Celeste, I assume you invited me here because there’s something you’ve been hiding," Ethan said, ignoring Director Vaughn entirely as his gaze shifted to her.
"Yes." Celeste’s voice was quiet but firm. She looked at Vaughn, then back at Ethan. "Director Vaughn—whose real name is Arthur Finch—is a native of Shadow Lynx Village. Do you remember the clothes they found buried at the bottom of the well?"
Ethan’s brow furrowed, and he gave a slow nod. Those clothes had been discovered years ago, back when a company of soldiers was sent to dig a well for the villagers in the early days of the republic. The garments were rotted and bloodstained, belonging to soldiers who later hanged themselves in the rafters. The strangest part was the location: they had been buried beneath freshly turned earth. The discovery terrified the workers, and the project was abandoned.
Not long after, seven of those same soldiers were found hanging from the rafters. Panic spread like wildfire. Then came the disappearances—the soldiers, the villagers, all of them vanishing without a trace. Only one woman was ever rescued, her mind shattered, babbling nonsense. The rescue team reported something else, too: a lynx that appeared every night, its presence linked to the rituals. Their final report concluded the lynx had been sacrificed, its remains used as fodder to awaken the Candle Abyss.
Ethan frowned, not yet sure why Celeste was dredging this up.
"You’re saying... if there was an earth-elemental controller, couldn’t they have buried those clothes silently, without anyone noticing?" Celeste’s words were low, but her eyes stayed fixed on Vaughn.
Ethan caught his breath. "You mean...?"
"Yes." Celeste nodded, her voice tightening. "He did it. All of it. Every incident tied to Shadow Lynx Village was his doing. And it was all to bury a darker truth." She drew in a sharp breath before continuing, her expression hardening. "Fratricide. Forcing himself on his sister-in-law. Burying his own son alive. That is the true face of Director Vaughn. That is the beast once known as Arthur Finch."
Ethan froze, appalled. He had expected secrets, but not depravity of this scale.
Celeste pressed on. "Arthur Finch was an orphan, raised by the Finch family. His elder brother, Arthur Sr., took him in, pitied him, fed him, treated him as his own blood. He never could have imagined that the boy he saved would grow into an ingrate, worse than a dog." Her voice trembled with anger.
The truth began unraveling piece by piece. The new house Vaughn now claimed as his had once belonged to Arthur Sr. and his wife. The year they married, Arthur Sr. got drunk one night. When he woke, he found himself lying in the side room instead of his bed. Confused, he returned to the main room—only to find Arthur Finch, the man standing across from them now, forcing himself on his sister-in-law, Arthur Sr.’s new bride.
The young woman had her eyes clamped shut, tears streaming down her face as she bit the bedsheet to muffle her cries. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. It was clear none of it had been her will.
The rest could only be imagined.
The next day, Arthur Finch told the villagers that his elder brother had gone away for work. Back then, no one questioned it—many newlyweds were separated by the demands of survival. Ten months passed. The young woman bore a son. And that was when the true tragedy began.
One morning, villagers heading into the forest stumbled upon Arthur Sr.’s wife hanging from a crooked tree. In her lifeless hand, she clutched a letter.