Returning to the Mysterious Era

Chapter 119 - Black Rain Manor

In the carriage, Cassius looked outside through the semi-transparent white curtains. The brown tree trunks blurred as they zipped past, and rain dripped from the treetops.

The scenery remained unchanged for a long time. When Cassius looked out again, the carriage was no longer in the forest but in a landscape of rolling hills. Vast fields of white flowers, like a white carpet, was on one side of the road while the other side was blackened ground, as if it had been scorched by fire, with wisps of ash occasionally rising up.

Cassius squinted slightly. Despite sitting in the carriage, he didn't feel any bumps, as if the world was rushing at him rather than the carriage carrying him forward.

Passing through the black-and-white sea of flowers, Cassius saw a slowly spinning dilapidated windmill in the distance. As the carriage drew closer, he saw figures moving near the windmill. Gradually, the scene by the windmill grew clearer.

There was a grayish-white well from which white, statue-like figures continuously emerged. These puppet-like figures lined up in a queue, trudging around the cylindrical windmill house. The walls of the house had wooden handles protruding out which the puppet people grabbed onto as they moved sluggishly around the windmill. It was man-powered. The puppet people circled the house before returning to the well's edge. Without a hint of hesitation, they jumped back in with a splash.

Not far from the windmill, a skinny white sheep was turning a millstone out in the open.

"..." Cassius fell into a strange silence. The scene before him was bizarre, like a nonsensical dream.

Next, he saw more meaningless and bizarre scenes. Palm-sized white crosses covered the side of a jet-black house. Five people dressed in black stood in a row, slowly opening their clothes to reveal fleshless skeletons, with rotting organs squirming inside. Half of a heart dangled, beating weakly.

A man wearing a black hat with horns dug into the empty ground with a shovel, surrounded by black cows moving counterclockwise. Two identical people argued in front of a large tree. Suddenly, another identical person rushed out from behind the tree, followed by a fourth, fifth, and sixth. In no time, there were a dozen people, all identical, surrounding the tree, who stopped arguing and instead held hands, dancing in a grotesque manner. Despite the rain coming down, the tree's canopy burned with transparent flames.

Death, religion, occultism, strangeness, soul and flesh, consciousness, decay, numbness, antiquity, brilliance, madness. All those words ran through Cassius's mind as he faced this chaotic dreamlike scene filled with different elements.

A disorientating sensation hit him. For a moment, he wasn't sure what was a dream and what was real.

Instinctively, Cassius glanced at the upper right corner, where a bronze ring symbol floated in the air, alongside a long progress bar, marked about half a year long.

"It's not a dream... This is reality."

The confusion in Cassius's heart vanished, replaced by alarm. Something was wrong. He scanned the carriage, his gaze settling on the thin fabric. Could that be the problem? He reached out and lifted it.

The clear scene outside the carriage appeared before Cassius. The group of identical people were still dancing around the burning tree.

"It’s not caused by the thin fabric..."

As Cassius watched, the puppet people all stopped, their heads turning inch by inch to stare at him. Then, one of them screamed and charged at him, the others following on its heels.

"What the..."

Cassius quickly dropped the fabric.

The figures froze mid-charge, then slowly returned to the tree, and resumed the previous scene.

This place is cursed...

The carriage sped forward for about half an hour before coming to an abrupt stop. Cassius grabbed his suitcase and got out.

His shoes stepped onto the platform surface as he opened an umbrella and surveyed his surroundings. In front of him was a narrow path, flanked by sparse trees that led up to the green moss-covered gray walls of Black Rain Manor. He craned his neck and saw the manor's spire buildings standing tall in the rain. With the wet tiles and bricks, it gave off a gloomy atmosphere.

Finally, we're here.

Cassius took a deep breath and started walking along the path toward Black Rain Manor.

As soon as he entered through the gate, a medieval-style manor came into view. The rain didn't seem like it would stop as it came down on the dome and spire buildings, old gray-white streets, and ancient heavy walls. He walked forward according to Twilight's memory, encountering several people with umbrellas, likely Hellsing members here to receive or submit missions.

After a while, he passed through a gray-white archway. Cassius stood before the door and knocked lightly.

Knock, knock, knock...

"Who is it?"

"Twilight."

"Come in."

The door opened, and Cassius walked in. Bronze-colored cast iron lamps were lit and hung on the walls inside the hall, lighting up the space.

A tall, slender man, about six feet tall, with freckles and deep-set features stood in front of him. A dark shield mark was branded on the back of his right hand, next to a crossbow pattern. Cassius, who had taken over Twilight's body, also had those two marks.

The first mark represented a shield-level Hellsing and was branded by Black Rain Manor. The second was man-made and represented the Hellsing's Bolt Sect. Black Rain Manor was an autonomous program, and Hellsing members were its gears, each with different sizes, types, and uses. Hellsing members were divided into many sects based on the skills and abilities chosen at the Baptism Chapel.

For instance, the Werebeast Sect injected beast blood to gain superhuman strength, transforming into a beastly creature, and significantly enhancing their abilities. The Mercury Sect sawed open the skull and added different-colored mysterious mercury to achieve psychokinesis; it looked somewhat like a downgraded version of a mage. The Dark Sect attached the organs of dark creatures to gain their powers. The Bolt Sect used bows and mechanical crossbows for long-range attacks. Its members were usually slender and agile. There were also Poison Sect, Trap Sect, Drug Sect, and more.

Twilight had joined the Bolt Sect, and its senior members had provided basic training to him to increase survival rates. While the Bolt Sect wasn't large, they were quite unified with members willing to help new recruits. They had a small stronghold in Black Rain Manor, which offered a resting place for Bolt Sect members.

"Twilight, did you complete the task?" the tall, slender man asked as they walked.

"Yes," Cassius replied.

"It looks like it went smoothly this time. Congratulations," the man said. It was the customary congratulations given to returning members.

If the member was severely injured, they would say, "Great fortune follows surviving great danger, congratulations." It was a tradition among the Hellsing, as they always took a gamble with their life every time they undertook each mission. Some might never return, and the man wouldn't have to say congratulations again.

Hearing "congratulations" meant they were alive to hear it, and that alone was worth celebrating. n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

The two walked further down the corridor, with Cassius following closely behind the man. Occasionally, other members of the Bolt Sect would greet them as they passed by. There were quite a few female members since the Bolt Sect required agile physiques. The male members were also relatively slender. There wasn't a single person with a tall and muscular build; Twilight was one of the more robust members here.

As Cassius walked through the building, he felt that the scenes resembled those of the Gray Seal Martial Arts Hall. Some empty rooms had been converted into indoor shooting ranges where veteran Hellsings taught new members how to use crossbows. Voices and shooting sounds could be heard sporadically.

The building contained a hall, canteen, and training room. Although the environment was somewhat old-fashioned and simple, it did its job.

The guide stopped in front of a door. "Here's your room. Take the key." He handed Cassius a brass key. Cassius looked up at the door. A metal nameplate read: 201.

"Thanks, Darkblade," Cassius said, accepting the key.

"By the way, you’ll be heading to the Baptism Chapel to hand over your task, right?" Darkblade turned and advised, "Remember to not enhance anything else. It'd be a complete waste. It'd be more cost-effective to enhance our Bolt Sect’s Deng Tingda Storm of Arrows."

Darkblade added earnestly, "Especially your physique. Don't upgrade that since there's a limit to it, and once you hit it, it'll be useless. It's nothing compared to dark creatures. Enhancing Deng Tingda Storm of Arrows can also indirectly improve your physique, so don't waste your task rewards."

Don't enhance physique? Cassius frowned.

Five minutes later, he had a general understanding of the situation.

Limits and bottlenecks. Cassius was no stranger to these terms. It was the limit of the human body, the barrier that separated human from non-human. According to Darkblade, the most the Hellsings were physically capable of was reaching the human limit. Try as they may, they couldn't break through.

Did Black Rain Manor lack Covert Martial Arts?

Cassius knew that for humans to elevate their essence to a non-human level, Covert Martial Arts were essential. Techniques like the breathing methods and special movements in Elephant Soul, along with the medicines, were key to achieving a breakthrough. Supplementary items like Fire Oil were also crucial.

Without these, humans would be stuck at the limit, unable to ascend any further.

Cassius understood all this, but why had a large group like the Hellsings, with this many sects, not come into contact with or ever learned Covert Martial Arts? As he thought about the Deng Tingda Storm of Arrows, he came to a realization: it was a skill.

If Covert Martial Arts were the orthodox path, then Deng Tingda Storm of Arrows was a heretical path. It had room for improvement and wasn't weak in terms of power, but compared to the Wind Elephant Covert Martial Arts that Cassius practiced, it was several levels inferior.

He pondered briefly and felt that the Hellsings' mastery of power across various sects seemed somewhat distorted. It was unclear if this was due to natural development or some other reason.

"Twilight, we’re having a small gathering tonight. Feel free to join us if you're interested," Darkblade said, patting Cassius on the shoulder before turning to leave.

Cassius stood there, processing the information for a while. After a moment, he entered his room, quickly unpacked, then grabbed his box and left.

Pushing open the door to the Bolt Sect’s base, Cassius held up an umbrella and walked toward the Baptism Chapel. He didn't do any kind of exploring since Black Rain Manor was absolutely not safe.

During the day, Hellsings could visit the Baptism Chapel, the mission hall, the intelligence hall, and bars. But at night, everyone generally stayed in their rooms. Some eerie things appeared on the streets of Black Rain Manor, and almost every month, an unlucky and defiant Hellsing would meet a tragic end, serving as a warning to others the next day.

Additionally, many streets in Black Rain Manor were off-limits even during the day. Some were inaccessible, while other streets were best avoided, for the same reasons as at night.

Walking under his umbrella, Cassius felt someone watching him as he passed a corner. Glancing out of the corner of his eye, he saw a white figure standing at the window of the second building on the left street.

Lowering his gaze, he noticed a somewhat old warning sign at the street corner. Faint bloodstains painted its surface. Perhaps some unfortunate person had ignored the warning and died here.

Cassius ignored the white figure and continued on his way.

After a few steps, he reached a circular intersection with a partially destroyed statue at its center. Only half of a leg remained standing atop the cylindrical pedestal. As he approached, Cassius saw several lines of faint poetry engraved on the stone beneath the statue's feet.

Collapsed in blue thorns, weeping with red fever.

You abandoned us...

But we, the dead, will wrap you in golden robes, so you can become a gilded butterfly in the next life.

You are fire, enrobed in flames.

Painful flames that burn the living.

Ashes of the living, a love poem etched on the forehead of death.

...

There was more, but it was too corroded to read.

Could this statue be the owner of the manor's? Cassius wondered but didn't dwell on it. He quickly walked into a chapel about two hundred meters down the right street. The chapel had a splendid domed hall, colorful stained glass windows, and religious murals.

Walking past pointed arch niches and ornate coffers, Cassius sat in a chair in front of the prayer table. He was alone.

The shield-shaped mark on the back of his right hand flashed continuously. The tip of the shield began to spin, seemingly guiding Cassius. He stood up, walked to a door, and opened it to find a simple private room on the other side. After entering, the door closed automatically with a thud behind him. Cassius was about to look around when a low, hoarse voice echoed in his ear, emotionless and reverberating.

"Marked-one, offer your tribute. In exchange for...Soul Power!"