Steampunk: Sixth Era Epic

Chapter 180 Wall of the Unbelievers

"Wall of the Unbelievers?"

The information Bishop had let slip serendipitously left the Outlander both surprised and puzzled, uncertain whether it was religious rhetoric or if such a thing truly existed.

He reached out to return the commemorative coin to Bishop Owen, but the bishop gestured that he needn't take it back:

"Keep it as a keepsake, Mr. Hamilton, since it was originally intended for promoting the Holy Prayer Day, anyway. You are welcome to visit Dawn Chapel anytime. We hold very formal sermons every week, or even if you simply wish to unburden your troubles in the Confession Room."

He hadn't given up on the idea of converting Shard to his faith.

Shard verbally agreed, casually pocketing the coin in the front pocket of his shirt to prevent it from slipping out of his coat pocket.

After Bishop Owen left for other matters, Priest Augustus took Shard away from Dawn Square to fetch the Magic Potion "The Price of Growth".

Outside Dawn Chapel, the priest had his own rented outpost for concocting Magic Potions, as it was far too risky to prepare them within the walls of the chapel.

"Priest, does the Wall of the Unbelievers really exist in our world?"

On the way, Shard quietly asked, and the answer from Priest Augustus was equivocal:

"No one has been able to return after death, so I cannot give you a definite answer. But according to ancient texts and documents, there has been a clear mention of the 'Wall of the Unbelievers' starting from the Third Era, so it's very possible that it actually exists... Detective, I remember that since waking from your Blind Foolishness, you still haven't chosen a faith, and that won't do..."

He slowed his pace and looked at Shard with a smile, echoing the same invitation that Bishop Owen had extended:

"Might you be interested in learning about the faith of our Lord, Mr. Dawn?"

Being a Shallow Believer did not entail specific obligations, and one wasn't required to pray at the chapel every week. Correspondingly, should one encounter issues such as hauntings, one shouldn't expect the church to offer exorcism services for free, and other forms of assistance from the church were not without cost either.

Walking alongside the priest, Shard pondered matters of faith,

"You don't recognize it either?"

"But don't be disappointed. Though I don't recognize it, the church's library may have records of this symbol. I can check it out for you. However, would you mind revealing where you got this symbol from?"

The priest inquired, and Shard shook his head cautiously:

"It's not convenient at the moment, but I will tell you in the future. Be careful when you look for it, though; this symbol is very likely related to the Circle Sorcerer, and I hope it won't cause you any trouble."

"It's no problem, just a minor issue."

The priest waved his hand, and the two parted in the bustling street.

The time was just right at eight o'clock. Shard first returned to Saint Delan Square with his paper bag, hiding the magic potion and that pile of disgusting materials behind the hidden wall of the basement, waiting to attempt bringing them into the past after midnight tonight.

Afterward, he greeted Mia, who was walking around at home, before stepping out the door again.

The lawyer named Locke Laurel, who had been hired by Mrs. Lemer for the investigation, had left his business card when he visited Mrs. Lemer, so Shard could easily track him down using the information on the card.

Mr. Laurel was not working in a law firm with a fixed office; he was a licensed lawyer who provided private legal counseling and assistance, similar in nature to Shard's Detective Agency, but he undoubtedly earned more than Shard.

This gentleman lived in the North District of Tobesk, which is generally considered the Lower District of Tobesk, but the lawyer's residence was not a slum. It was a place called Queen Mary's Street, with the lawyer renting a second-floor apartment facing the street.

Shard did not know anyone in the area, so there was no need to disguise himself when paying a visit. After identifying the apartment number, he knocked on the downstairs door for a long time without anyone answering.

He then thought about knocking on the neighboring apartment to ask the neighbors, but at that moment, the door finally opened.

The man who opened the door was short and plump, reeking of booze, dressed in shorts and a striped shirt, his entire figure appearing square. The hair on his arms was thicker than the beard on his broad chin. His squinting eyes seemed unable to adjust to the morning light through the haze, and when he spoke, he mumbled so incoherently it was hard to make out his words:

"Who are you looking for? Oh, for God's sake, can you not knock so early?"

It wasn't yet nine o'clock, which wasn't really that early at all, but there was no reasoning with a drunk.