The Shepherds Are Dense

Chapter 122: Antlers and Thunder

Dark. Damp.As though submerged in something warm yet viscous, Gordon’s consciousness was slowly dragged deeper.

When Gordon woke again, he realized someone had already arrived.

"Long time no see, Chief Gordon..."

A low, middle-aged woman’s voice sounded.

"Or should I call you Inspector Gordon now?"

Gordon slowly opened his eyes and found himself in a space overflowing with crimson light.

Unlike the waiting room for the Full Moon Rite, this was not pure darkness — it felt more like being beneath the sea.

In the near-black crimson sky hung a black crescent moon.

Beneath the high chairs on which they sat, a sea of blood swelled and ebbed in rhythm, frothing with white foam.

In the center of the nine chairs stood a colossal statue of a silver-white knight in full armor, easily five to six meters tall, its greatsword planted before it like a stele piercing heaven and earth.

Yet its legs, sunk into the blood, and the sword tip itself were dyed red.

It was a shocking sight.

This was Gordon’s first Crescent Rite.

The reek of blood filling the place displeased him.

He instinctively frowned slightly and looked to his left.

Two people had arrived before him.

That meant both were in Avalon, and both outranked him overall.

The first was an old man in a simple black suit, sitting upright.

His belly was large, bulging even under the suit.

His hands rested on his knees, and even so, he exuded a subtle pressure.

When he saw Gordon appear, he nodded slightly in greeting.

The second was a middle-aged woman with her hair tied in a simple ponytail.

She wore an ornate red evening dress, as if headed to a banquet — entirely at odds with the hideous boar mask on her head.

Gordon thought.

Though they had never met within a rite, a single glance was enough to recognize who they were in reality.

They were all Transcendents of the Authority Path.

And now they happened to meet in a promotion rite...

"...Yes, long time no see, Madam Red.

Looks like we’ll be colleagues in the Inspectorate from now on."

Gordon countered smoothly.

"Which path are you taking this time?"

"Love.

Power breeds desire, and I have reached my time of derivation."

Madam Red replied without concealment.

"Also, here you should call me [Red]."

"Then you should call me [Thunder]."

Gordon replied.

"By the way, your codename seems rather pointless — just that dress alone gives you away."

"'Madam Red' is just a nickname.

No need to hide one nickname behind another.

And I have no need to hide my identity — same as you."

Madam Red’s answer was matter-of-fact.

She then looked toward the old man and said meaningfully:

"Minister Drost... what should we call you here?"

"Antlers."

Trade Minister Drost’s deep voice carried weight.

"This time, I am promoting along the Dusk Path.

"Though we are mortal enemies here, this is only the first-stage Crescent Rite — failure bears no cost.

There’s no need for us to fight to the death.

Since we are all of the Authority Path and know each other’s real identities, why not form a temporary alliance?

Eliminate the others first, then decide among ourselves."

"I can agree to that."

Madam Red nodded.

"Then outwardly, let’s not reveal our real names or paths — only our codenames."

"At most, three can promote in a Crescent Rite," Gordon agreed.

"Better than letting it fall to foreigners... incidentally, I’m promoting along the Devotion Path this time."

"Devotion Path? Can you use Illumination?" Madam Red asked.

"Of course not," Gordon shook his head.

"I’m not Church-born — I don’t need that trouble."

"Any other healing ability?"

"No."

Gordon answered without hesitation.

"But I can protect you."

It was the first time she had heard of a Devotion Path Transcendent with zero healing.

The words swirled in Madam Red’s throat, but she swallowed them with some irritation.

When she’d heard Inspector Gordon was promoting Devotion Path, she thought she might enjoy a healer’s support in the rite — Love Path professions usually came with self-harm traits, making them very dependent on healing.

Sure enough, a Devotion Path Transcendent daring to enter a Crescent Rite alone was never a normal "devotee."

At that moment, blood-mist began to rise from the fourth seat.

The three stopped talking and looked that way.

"...That is..."

Gordon’s eyes widened.

On the fourth seat, viscous shadow was flowing, coalescing into a black humanoid form clad in a blood-red robe.

"Ho-ho-ho..."

A low, roaring, hoarse voice, like a lion just awakened, came from the fourth seat.

"You’re all here quite early..."

"...You’re a Demon Scholar."

Gordon spoke with certainty, his voice cold with hostility.

"From the Noble Red Society, aren’t you?"

He had recently been attacked by the Noble Red Society, and his nerves were on edge.

One glance told him the red robe’s stains were the color of real blood.

He even smelled the stench.

Crescent Rite materials were hard to come by — but six of them could be substituted with those taken from humans.

If one only needed wax figures, snakes, and mirrors, it was far simpler.

This early into the night, only someone in Avalon — perhaps even on Glass Island itself — could enter their rite at this hour.

Demon Scholars often killed to obtain rite materials.

Their promotion class, "Demon Incarnate," required slaughter on a large scale, taking materials from living humans to even attempt it.

Without such cruelty, they could only remain mere "Scholars."

Immortality as a powerful demon was a great lure, and Demon Scholars who walked the Transcendence Path almost always succumbed to its call, seeking to surpass life’s limits.

...Even so, Gordon had never seen such a display from a first-stage Demon Scholar.

Even if they had levels in another path, promotion along the Transcendence Path should only allow Transcendence abilities.

How could a first-stage Demon Scholar wield such a powerful demon?

"You’re a Demon Scholar from Stibium."

[Antlers] spoke in his aged, steady tone.

"Who is your tutor?"

At this moment, Eiwass’s entire body — even his hair — was covered in the liquid shadow of the Shadow Demon.

The dripping shadow made his short hair seem like flowing black locks.

Just awakened, Eiwass raised an eyebrow.

He knew full well that orthodox Stibium Demon Scholars could contract a high-level demon ahead of time — summoned by a powerful Demon Scholar, then bound to a disciple.

Whether the disciple could control it was their problem.

Those demons, tricked into contracting with the weak, naturally resisted.

Their disobedience and malice toward escaping their masters put tremendous pressure on young Demon Scholars.

To avoid being devoured, they had to prove themselves — but against demons far beyond their own level, it was almost impossible to gain recognition.

Like prey chased by a beast, these young scholars were forced to the limit, drawing out every drop of the Transcendence Path’s potential.

If they failed, only a student was lost — Stibium had plenty more eager to change their fate and rule others.

The demon would simply be given a new master.

Through repeated selection, every Demon Scholar who survived wielded a demon far stronger than themselves, and possessed an intense hunger to transcend.

Eiwass ordered the Shadow Demon silently.

"Sound fierce — the reckless, arrogant kind that looks easy to use.

Make it clear you’re not me."

The Shadow Demon answered in the voice of the assassin lady in his mind:

"Understood, Master."

Then the black liquid on Eiwass’s body resonated with the voice, emitting a low, echoing growl like a lion:

"You lack the most basic manners, old man.

I have no tutor — give your name, or I’ll let the demon eat your flesh!"

As "Eiwass" spoke, the shadows covering him flowed, forming hideous monstrous heads.

A black flower bloomed upon his lifted face, countless jagged black teeth entwined with cold darkness within.

"...No, you’re not a Demon Scholar — you’re a Demonkin."

The old man spoke with interest.

"A Demonkin possessed by a Shadow Demon... rare indeed.

So Avalon still has such Transcendents.

"Since we have time, why not get acquainted, Shadow Demon?

I am Antlers, this is Thunder, and that’s Red... you’re new, aren’t you?

In that case, perhaps we could work together.

Eliminate the others first... what do you say?"

Demonkin and Demon Scholars were different.

If a Demon Scholar had contracted a powerful demon, they likely had a tutor.

But Demonkin possession was entirely random — meaning even a pure novice could be possessed by a strong demon.

Realizing this "Demonkin" might be a newcomer, Antlers instantly saw the potential for use.

His attitude turned genuinely warm, without much of the usual Transcendence-Path disdain.

Thunder and Red remained silent, watching Antlers perform.

Eiwass realized that the Crescent Rite’s contest had already begun.

"Old man, you’ve got a good attitude.

Let’s forget what I said before."

He narrowed his eyes, letting the Shadow Demon speak with an easy air:

"You can call me Alastor... that’s my name.

"Yes, I’m new.

From the Noble Red Society, first time in a promotion rite."