Chapter 462: Dolan

A dark-red trench coat, a pitch-black mask, and an indistinct face. Without a doubt, it was the exact visage of Ashe Heath.

The spirits deep within his soul trembled in absolute terror. His most vital spirits, Ice Heart, Piercing Cold, and Typhoid, had gone completely berserk, violently turning on his other spirits.

Sixty years of life experience screamed warnings through Pankey's raw instincts. At this critical crossroads, Pankey suddenly understood exactly why Heliphas and Rogue had died so easily. It wasn't a matter of skill. Their spirits had rebelled, and they simply never had a chance to fight back.

The only entities Pankey could still command were the origin spirits he summoned on his own. Every single external spirit he had pulled from the Virtual World or purchased in reality had completely broken free of his control.

The ones that merely paralyzed themselves with fear were the least of his worries. The real disaster lay with the spirits he had bonded with more recently. They had openly mutinied and were viciously attacking his origin spirits.

Pankey was over sixty years old, and his spirit system had remained largely unchanged in recent years. This meant even the rebellious spirits were entities he had successfully managed for at least three years. For younger sorcerers like Heliphas and Rogue, whose abilities were still developing, their spirit systems changed constantly, requiring minor adjustments every year and a major overhaul every three years. Their ratio of origin spirits to external spirits could easily reach one to ten, or even higher.

Once a spirit rebellion was triggered in someone that young, the external spirits would beat their origin spirits to death. And without an origin spirit, a sorcerer had nothing left. Unless they were fundamentally weak to begin with, they were stripped of everything and turned into ordinary humans.

Perhaps relying exclusively on origin spirits could prevent a rebellion. But in practice, that was impossible. During the foundation-building stage of a Silver Rank sorcerer, a person might rely mostly on their few origin spirits. However, upon reaching the Gold Rank, constructing a viable combat or production system required a sorcerer to build a massive framework of dozens of external spirits, all anchored around just one or two core origin spirits.

The comparison was like a family workshop versus a massive factory. A Silver Rank sorcerer was the workshop, small, self-contained, and safe. A Gold Rank sorcerer was the factory. They imported hundreds of external spirits to act as workers and machinery. While this network carried vastly higher management risks, the exponential leap in power far outweighed the danger.

Besides, in his fifty years as a sorcerer, Pankey had never encountered a spirit rebellion. He had never even heard of one. But as the realization washed over him, it made perfect sense. Any sorcerer who ever faced a spirit rebellion simply didn't live to tell the tale.

Pankey was surprised by how calm his heart felt. Is it the spirits? A Miracle? Or perhaps... am I going to die?

When he looked up, he saw neither "Ashe" nor the bathroom mirror. Instead, he saw a rainy night, where a heavy, outdated truck sat idling outside a nostalgic café.

The air was thick with the sharp, burning stench of tar from tires that had violently ground against the asphalt during an emergency brake. Beneath those heavy wheels lay a woman in a purple trench coat, her lower body trapped against the ground.

Pankey's mind went entirely blank. The blinding glare of headlights, the frantic shouts of bystanders, the agonizing patter of raindrops shattering against the road. Everything was blocked out, fading into absolute silence. The world lost its echo.

He crouched beside her, holding up a blue umbrella, but the driving rain still lashed across her face.

Even now, the woman managed a weak smile. "The rain is too heavy. An umbrella won't save me. Don't cry, little Pankey. Still... you really do look quite handsome when you cry. As expected of... cough... the number one..."

"The medical sorcerers will be here any second!" Pankey's voice cracked, his vision blurring into a smear of tears. A sharp, physical ache bloomed in his limbs and squeezed his heart. The mature, composed butler vanished in an instant, leaving behind nothing but a helpless young boy.

"Besides, aren't you a sorcerer?! A Miracle! Use a Miracle! You promised that once the Woven Festival ended, we would become a family! You lied to me! You lied! You even staked the name of Dolan on it!"

The woman giggled weakly. "The Dolan name I staked is my promise that I will lie to you."

Her voice trailed off, growing faint. "Pankey, you are already family, so I want to ask one last thing of you..."

"No! I won't! I refuse!"

"Lex is only three years old, and I don't have any other relatives left. I can only trust you to take care of him. The boy loves trailing behind you anyway. Honestly, he's more attached to you than he ever was to me."

"Why should I raise your kid? Raise him yourself! The moment you die, I'm feeding him to the dogs!"

"That's fine, too... The Dolan family should have faded away a long time ago. I don't even know how we managed to drag it out this long."

She took a shallow, rattling breath. "I'm sorry, Pankey. I really... wanted to give you a proper family. At the very least... I didn't want you... to have to stand alone in the rain..."

The air died. The night rain died. And the young Pankey died right along with them.

***

When the sound of rain finally faded, Pankey raised his head and realized he was on the outskirts of Azura.

Back then, Azura had not yet built its second-layered city. The outskirts were barren, empty, and waiting to be developed.

In front of him, a young man pulled on a purple helmet, climbed onto his motorcycle, and said, "Drop me off here."

Pankey asked, "What exactly are you going to do? Why can't you just tell me?"

"It's my rebellious phase. Old man, you wouldn't understand."

Pankey sighed. "You're already in your twenties. Isn't it a little late for a rebellious phase? Now that you're all grown up, you started calling me an old man. You were so adorable when you were little. You used to follow me everywhere. Every time I turned around, there you were. Back then, you used to call me—"

"That was more than ten years ago!" the young man hurriedly interrupted. "Can you look toward the future like a young person instead of constantly clinging to the past?"

Rumble!

Thunder echoed in the distance as dark clouds gathered across the sky.

"It's going to rain," Pankey noted. "Why don't we—"

"Then I need to move fast," the young man said. "By the way, there's something I want to ask you."

"Hmm?"

"Don't worry about looking after Annan. She'll live a good life in Venmura. I transferred some money into your account, and I found a way to send some Gospel Points your way, too. Old man, you're not young anymore. Find somewhere to settle down and build a life for yourself. Or publish those novels of yours. They might not have much literary value, but they'll probably sell surprisingly well..."

"Wait," Pankey grabbed the young man's shoulder and immediately pressed his gun against his waist. "What exactly are you planning to do? Come back with me, or I'll freeze you and drag you back myself."

"I bet your gun doesn't have any bullets."

Pankey froze. He immediately realized the weight of the weapon was entirely wrong.

Right then, a torrential downpour erupted from the sky. Through the roar of the rain came the young man's voice. "You shouldn't have let me play with your gun when I was a kid. Slipping the bullets out was far too easy."

"Lex, even if you don't care about yourself, you should at least care about Annan—"

The young man replied, "I am doing this for Annan. If I don't, Annan will eventually walk down the exact same path. I swear upon the name of Dolan that I will end the fate that has bound our family."

"Then what about me? Lex, what about me?!" Pankey tightly gripped his shoulder, his voice thick with desperation. "How many more times do you Dolans intend to hurt me?! I've already lost Wenna..."

"That's why I could write letters to everyone else, but you... I had to tell you this in person."

The young man looked at him. "I'm sorry, Pankey. Don't look back anymore. I'm not coming back."

Many days later, on a bright afternoon, Pankey finally learned of Lex's death.

The location was Nabistin. The cause of death was a traffic accident.

The sunlight died. The tears died. And middle-aged Pankey died right along with them.

***

Just as Pankey was about to drown in the dreams of the Six-Emblem Families, a little girl anxiously sought him out. "Uncle Pankey, I found an escape route out of Vanmura!"

"Miss, the Senheisers are safe. There's no need for you to leave."

"No! I am a descendant of the Dolan family. I must restore the glory of my ancestor, Denzel!"

"Miss, your surname is Senheiser," Pankey reminded her gently.

The little girl looked at him dead seriously. "That's exactly why I have to leave. Vanmura only raises useless people. I want to get out of here and see the outside world! Besides, Quinna keeps bullying me. I swear upon the name of Dolan that I'll get my revenge someday!"

Pankey couldn't help but laugh. But looking at Annan, he felt as if he had been pulled right back to his youth, and then to his middle age. How could he possibly refuse a Dolan's invitation?

Annan said, "I don't know why, but our bloodline is cursed by the Gospel. I think that's why I was able to access our ancestors' profiles. With the Empress's authority, I peered into the futures the Gospel recorded... and after looking through them so many times, I finally found my own. My life ends at twenty-eight."

She paused, staring into the distance. "I wonder what kind of future the Gospel has prepared for me."

"So that's how it is..." Pankey murmured.

"That's why I have to get my hands on the Divine Lord's wish. I need to completely break the chains binding my bloodline. Just like how Grandma once helped you take first place in the Woven Festival, I need to find some outlanders to trick the system. Ideally, we bring them in just a few days before the ceremony kicks off, so their records will be totally clean."

***

Fast-forward to a few days before Ashe and his crew arrived in the Gospel Kingdom.

"Hmm? The client behind this request is actually the Four Pillars Cult? They're searching for outlanders, too? Cliose asked me a few days ago if I had any information on them..." Annan's eyes lit up as she connected the pieces. "Four Pillars Cult, Red Hats, outlanders... Pankey, I just had a brilliant idea. Are you ready to cause a massive commotion with me?"

"Of course," Pankey replied, looking out at the drizzle hitting the window. "Until I melt away in this rain."

***

Pankey snapped his eyes open and found himself inside an unfamiliar palace.

Before him, Annan lay collapsed in a pool of blood. The Purple Moth had been dyed a vivid, shocking crimson.

He raised his head. Behind a distant curtain stood the Empress.

The air from his memories, the night rain, the sunlight, the tears. Everything rushed back at once. In that moment, everything became clear to him. I am a piece of ice, with my love for the Dolans frozen inside. For this final journey, how could I bear to let her walk it alone? I truly am the second-ranked assassin.

Pankey drew his twin pistols. "This is my future."

The moment he charged forward, the man in the dark-red trench coat rushed out from behind the curtain. Sword in hand, the stranger deflected every bullet, the blade gathering jagged ice spikes as it lunged forward.

In that split second, Pankey remembered his own death as foretold by the Assassination Rankings: the assassin of the Empress would be pierced through by the coldest ice spike.

At that exact moment, Lys's clear, bright voice rang out from outside. "Daddy!"

Gospel Ashe stared deeply at Pankey for a brief moment, and then all possible futures vanished into thin air.

Ashe walked into the room with Lys, carrying bags of takeout. "Time to eat! Time to eat!"

The faucet was still running, and the mirror no longer reflected the man in the coat. There were only Ashe and Lys walking past the doorway.

Lys followed closely behind Ashe like a little shadow. Everything that had just happened seemed to have been nothing more than Pankey's hallucination.