Mystery: Gray Walker

Chapter 150

"Afterwards, she seemed to come to her senses."

Lillian recalled, "I was hiding in the shadows and saw her kneeling beside your aunt, completely drained of her soul, and then—she started trembling, trembling violently. She saw the blood on her hands, she saw everything before her. Then, she took a few things and rushed out of the house."

"That's how it happened. I know you might not believe it, but that's the truth."

Green remained silent.

He couldn't accept this fact.

After a long silence, Green raised his eyes and slowly said, "Where is she? I need to see her."

"I already told you she escaped," Lillian said, her tone impatient and even reproachful. "Witnessing that scene, personally—plus the effects of the potion, her mental and physical state is extremely unstable. She's probably already out of control and turned into a monster, or on her way to becoming one. There's no point in you worrying about it anymore."

She paused, her gaze sweeping over Green's pale face. "But speaking of which, you and Emily are both responsible for this. If you hadn't failed to properly store that potion, she wouldn't have accidentally ingested it, much less become a 'witch.' Of course, pursuing that now is not important."

"The Witch's Path isn't suitable for women?" Green pressed. "She's going to die sooner or later? Why?"

Lillian didn't seem to care about revealing more about witches to Grimm. She sighed softly, "Didn't you read the record I gave you?"

"Sequence 9 is the Assassin," "Sequence 8 is the Instigator," and "Sequence 7—" She paused, looking directly at Green, "is called the Witch."

"But what does that have to do with Emily dying?" Green asked urgently.

"The key lies in the peculiarity of this pathway. The 'Witch' pathway, whose core symbol is the 'Primordial Witch,' is a combination of corruption, destruction, disaster, and a certain twisted feminine quality. The potions of this pathway are deeply rooted in female identity, but they require a kind of feminine quality—shaped in a specific way, or even arguably corrupted or distorted."

She took a step forward and lowered her voice, "For male users, upon ascending to Sequence 7 witch status, the potion's power will forcibly alter their physiological structure, transforming them from male to female. Although this process is painful, distorted, and risky, to some extent, this transformation itself aligns with the potion's power's requirement to reshape the carrier, serving as a kind of alternative ritual or adaptation."

"But for users who are originally women, the situation is completely different."

Lillian's eyes sharpened. "They'll be driven mad by the call of the Primal Witch. I don't know the exact reason, but I personally feel that the potion's power along this path, its 'female' template, is inherently twisted, filled with pain and madness. It demands 'becoming a witch,' not 'remaining a woman.'"

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"From a female extraordinary being, rising from a Sequence 9 Assassin to a Sequence 8 Instigator, accumulating madness..."

The shadow of slaughter, the poison of conspiracy—all of these will directly and violently clash with her original feminine essence when she attempts to ascend to the rank of "Sequence 7 Witch." The power of the potion is not to "transform" her, but rather to attempt to cover, pollute, and even tear apart her original self with an "external, distorted, and depraved concept of femininity."

Lillian paused, then continued, "This inner conflict and corruption is far more dangerous and uncontrollable than the external physiological transformation. It directly affects the very core of the mind and soul. Historically, almost all female extraordinary individuals who attempted the 'witch' path, upon advancing to Sequence 7 witch, succumbed to utter madness and loss of control due to this fundamental, irreconcilable inner conflict, and then—died. There were almost no exceptions. The power of the potion would first destroy their sanity, then their lives."

Seeing the despair gradually spreading in Green's eyes, she added her final sentence: "Emily has already taken the potion for a Sequence 9 Assassin and embarked on this path. Even if she doesn't continue to advance, the corrosive and maddening tendencies brought on by the low-sequence potion will accumulate over time. And if she tries to gain power to protect herself or do anything, advancing to a Sequence 7 Witch is almost an insurmountable hurdle. For her, that's not a gateway to advancement, but—a death sentence. So I say, she will die sooner or later. The only difference is whether she is slowly consumed by the madness of the low-sequence potion or collapses instantly when she tries to reach Sequence 7."

Green felt his blood run cold.

More than just tragedy and negligence, Emily now faces a predetermined, almost cursed, dead end.

For women, taking "witch" potions is a path that inevitably leads to madness and death.

"Is there really no way?"

Green's voice was so faint it was almost inaudible.

Lillian was silent for a moment, then slowly shook her head: "At least, there isn't a known, stable, and repeatable method. The 'witch' pathway is just that cruel to women. Perhaps in some extremely rare cases, through unrepeatable miracles, or—by paying an unimaginable price, a price worse than death—there might be a sliver of hope? But that's not something we can count on."

She threw the choice back at Green: "Now, do you still insist on going to find her? To find a 'witch' who might be half-mad and destined for destruction?"

Despair is like the deep sea, but in this abyss of despair, responsibility, family ties, or the stubborn refusal to accept fate still struggle to emit a glimmer of light.

He looked up, his eyes bloodshot.

"Tell me," his voice was hoarse, "how can I find her? Before she—completely disappears."

Green felt his heart being gripped by an invisible hand, and then sinking into an icy abyss.

Hate? Of course he hated. He hated the bloody scene that lingered in his mind, hated that his pale and quiet cousin in his memory was now stained with the blood of her loved ones, hated that she had torn apart their last remaining world with her own hands.

That burning hatred almost overwhelmed reason.

But—"voluntary sacrifice." The word Lillian uttered made him fall into deep thought.

Perhaps this is truly the outcome Aunt Sylvia desired.

Women who follow the Witch Path — are doomed —. This statement was tantamount to a direct verdict on Emily, making Grimm's hatred seem somewhat hollow. It was like throwing a stone at someone who had already fallen off a cliff and was screaming in mid-air.

Similarly, it was Green who failed to hide the potion properly. He was the one who opened Pandora's box.

Hatred and pity were like two venomous snakes, tearing and fighting within his chest.

Ultimately, what rises from this emotional ruin is something much heavier: responsibility, and an almost obsessive desire to "know."

He can't stay here. He needs to find that "result".

The firelight from the fireplace flickered on his face.

After a long while, he raised his head, the chaos in his eyes gradually subsiding. What's done is done, and there's no use in regretting it now.

"You don't know where she went."

Green's voice was deep and steady, directly contradicting Lillian's earlier statement: "But you know about the 'witch' pathway, you know the characteristics of 'low-sequence assassins' and 'instigators,' you know their behavioral patterns when they're on the verge of losing control and committing heinous crimes, you know what they might be attracted to, or where they might instinctively hide."

He leaned forward, his gaze fixed on Lillian, not as a plea, but as a stern stare.

"I don't need you to know exactly which street or house she's on. I need you to tell me directions. A girl who has just murdered her father, taken a potion, has blood on her hands, and is possibly being torn apart by madness and power—would she flee to the city's sewers? Hide in an abandoned warehouse in the dock area? Or instinctively seek out places associated with 'shadow,' 'secret,' or 'corruption'?"

"Your Prosperous Garden" has handled similar cases and explored this path, even if only in terms of documentation. Tell me the possibilities. Tell me, if I want to find such a thing—that exists—where should I begin my search, what signs should I look for: the smell of blood? Cold? Unusual deaths of small animals or insects? Or the disappearances or incoherent ramblings of a particular group of people?"

His tone quickened, carrying an undeniable urgency: "You say I also bear responsibility. Fine, I admit it. Then this is how I take responsibility—not by sitting here waiting for news of her turning into a monster or dying, but by confronting her, confronting the consequences I caused. Even if it's just to confirm her death, even if all I find is a twisted corpse—I must go."

"So," Green took a deep breath, his tone resolute, "tell me what you know about the possible behavioral logic and concealment tendencies of low-sequence individuals using the 'witch' pathway in this specific situation. Tell me those seemingly unrelated clues, rumors,..."

"Sift out the parts of urban legends that might hold the truth for me." Then, he paused, his voice carrying a sense of desperation.

"Tell me, someone like you who knows the inside story, if you wanted to find her, where would you start your investigation?"

Give me a starting point, Vivian. Just one. The rest, I'll walk myself.

Lillian looked at Green in silence, a hint of pity flashing in her eyes that seemed to see through fate. Not for Emily, but for the young man before her, who was cornered by fate and self-blame, yet still trying to grasp at something.

The firelight from the fireplace danced on her pale face, making her expression even more unpredictable.

She didn't immediately answer Green's barrage of questions, but slowly picked up the tea that had long since gone cold on the table, took a sip, and seemed to be carefully choosing her words.

"You're absolutely right, Green."

She finally spoke, her voice softer than before. "Assassins," after their first kill, especially one gained in such a violent way, do indeed follow certain instincts. They crave the shadows, are drawn to blood and chaos, yet fear exposure. Sewers, abandoned buildings, the dark alleys of slums, cemeteries—these are all possibilities. This is a manifestation of the potion's unstable power leaking out."

She put down her teacup and tapped her fingertips lightly on the table.

"But the scope is too vast. There are dozens, if not hundreds, of places in the entire lower city that fit the criteria. You're alone, with no experience tracking extraordinary traces, no ability to fight off out-of-control individuals, and you're searching like a headless fly—the probability of finding her is extremely low. More likely, you'll encounter something else in some dirty corner, or—"

You'll directly encounter someone who has completely slid to the other side and is no longer your cousin.

Her words were like a bucket of cold water poured over Green's head.

"so what?"

Green's voice tightened. "You're just going to make me wait? Wait until we hear about a new monster in the lower city, or find an unidentified female corpse that matches the description? Is this your idea of ​​'taking responsibility'?"

"No."

Lillian shook her head. "I'm telling you, you can't catch up with fate using conventional methods, especially when it comes to things like witches—things so closely linked to secrecy and misfortune. You need more direct, more—unconventional guidance."

She paused for a moment, as if making a decision.

"I don't know Emily's exact location right now. But perhaps—someone can see her."

Green's heart skipped a beat: "Who? The fortune teller?"

Not entirely.

Lillian tilted her head slightly. "If you really want to find him, then find a skilled diviner, or, come into contact with certain objects or rituals that symbolize fate or revelation."

Her tone turned extremely serious, even warning: "But this is extremely dangerous, Green. Ten times more dangerous than wandering around the Lower City. Seeking revelation from the unknown is like walking on the edge of a dark abyss; you never know if the response will be a clue or tentacles that drag you into a deeper nightmare. You will pay a price—it could be your memories, your emotions, or even a part of your future luck. And the answer you receive is likely to be vague, metaphorical, or even a harmful lie."

She looked directly into Green's eyes: "Even so, you still want to know? To search for a 'clue' that may not even exist, or one that, if found, might lead you to your doom?"

Green acted almost without hesitation.

The conventional routes had proven impassable, and aimless searching in the lower city was a desperate struggle. The dangerous path Lillian described, though fraught with thorns, at least pointed in a possible direction. What he needed now was precisely that direction, even if it led to a precipice.

Tell me how.

His voice was hoarse. "Or, tell me where I can find such a place to settle, such a ritual. The price? I have nothing left to lose. As for a vague answer—it's better than utter darkness. I need a starting point, Lillian, a starting point that can get me moving, instead of sitting here being driven mad by my own imagination."

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