Hogwarts Raven

Chapter 368, Section 367: The Faceless One and the Ghost Bride

The night was dark.

Ian was neither alarmed nor did he take any action against the intrusion of the Faceless Ones, as he was still preoccupied with the existence of the "Twilight Hermits" and the conspiracy behind the temple.

Therefore.

The Faceless Ones' operation went smoothly.

With the distance reduced, Ian was able to see these creatures more clearly. They were creatures that looked terrifying; to put it nicely, they were menacing without even trying.

It was shrouded in a long, black robe, its body slender and eerie. Most unsettling of all was that its face had no features, only a smooth, mirror-like black void that seemed to devour all light. It moved silently, without even a sound, floating on the ground like a ghost.

Ian held his breath, watching as the faceless man stopped in front of a house. On the doorframe of that house, the six-pointed star protective charm drawn by Kalan was clearly visible.

Under his multitasking gaze.

The Faceless Ones still encountered no obstacles.

Like a streak of gray lightning, it smashed straight through the wooden window of that house. The sound of shattering was particularly jarring in the quiet night, and Ian could even hear the screams of children coming from inside.

"Where are your amulets?" Ian grabbed Cam by the collar. "Why aren't they working?"

Cam's face appeared deathly pale in the moonlight.

"Those are officially recognized law enforcement officers!"

He stammered, "If we interfere with law enforcement, wouldn't we become an illegal organization?"

Ian opened his mouth, but was momentarily speechless.

This logic is outrageously absurd, yet damnably reasonable—as an underground organization, the Twilight Hermits certainly wouldn't dare to openly confront official forces.

"Your protective barrier can't even stop something like this? What's the point of drawing these runes then?" He looked at the wizard in front of him with some suspicion.

Kalan smiled bitterly, his eyes full of helplessness: "Precisely because it is 'legal,' our magic cannot fight against it! Think about it, if we dare to stop even official law enforcement officers, wouldn't we become an 'illegal organization'? The entire Twilight Hermit Society would be labeled as rebels! We can only protect ordinary people from evil spirits, undead, or dark wizards, but we have no right to interfere with the temple's 'law enforcement actions'."

This is indeed a very reasonable explanation.

Ian was speechless again.

He had never imagined that fighting against an evil organization would involve such an absurd question as "legitimacy." He watched helplessly as the faceless man dragged the man off the bed, carrying him like a puppet, and turned to leave.

The man kept confessing his sins, his voice trembling: "I...I evaded taxes...I cheated the caravan out of money...I...I'm willing to atone for my sins...Please..."

However, the Faceless Man did not react, as if he were deaf and mute, and simply dragged him out the door in silence. At that moment, more houses were being stormed by hordes of Faceless Men.

The sound of a heavy object falling to the ground came from the house that had been broken into, followed by heart-wrenching pleas for mercy.

Ian cast an illusion spell and silently followed. The room was pitch black, with only the faint moonlight filtering through the windowpanes. The Faceless Man stood before a bedroom, where a middle-aged couple lay fast asleep. It slowly raised its hand, pointing in the husband's direction. Instantly, wisps of grayish-black mist appeared in the air.

Like the embodiment of sin, it clung to the man.

The man awoke with a start, his forehead covered in cold sweat, his eyes filled with fear and remorse. He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. The faceless man remained silent, only extending his icy hand and gently grasping. The gray-black mist was forcibly stripped away, and the man let out a suppressed groan, his entire body collapsing as if struck by a heavy blow.

"I repent! I truly repent! I'm willing to hand over all the stolen goods—"

This person is begging for mercy.

The Faceless One made no sound, but Ian's magical senses detected a high-frequency vibration, like countless tiny metal pieces rubbing against each other. Not far away, a figure flickered on a window, and a fat middle-aged man was also being dragged by an invisible force, his feet scraping long tracks on the stone floor.

"It's that shady merchant at the market!" Cam exclaimed in a low voice. "He always cheats on the scales."

The third faceless man dragged a burly man with a face full of scars out of the next house; the man wore a brass ring on his wrist, a trait typical of slave traders. The fourth man was escorting a richly dressed old woman.

Her expensive linen dress was stained with wine.

"Please! Spare me, spare me!" the old woman cried, her carefully styled hair disheveled. "I've donated so much gold to the temple—I can donate even more."

Such a plea for mercy is quite simple and unpretentious.

If she were in a different group, she might have a chance to survive.

however.

The Faceless Ones ignored these wails. They moved in a line, escorting the prisoner toward the temple, their movements so synchronized it was chilling.

Ian noticed that each of the detainees had a faint mark on their forehead.

It looks like a slaughter mark on a pig.

That night, Ian witnessed several similar "enforcement" actions. Faceless Men broke into several homes, arresting those whose sins had been "manifested" in their sleep—corrupt officials, murderous merchants, and treacherous gamblers. Without exception, they wept bitterly, confessed, begged for mercy, and pleaded for forgiveness when arrested. But the Faceless Men never responded; they simply and coldly took them away, like the Grim Reaper reaping souls.

Finally, the faceless people gathered in the middle of the street, each dragging a trembling "sinner" behind them. They did not communicate, but simply turned around in unison and slowly moved towards the temple.

Ian was filled with doubt. What exactly were these faceless men? As a wizard with a strong sense of curiosity, Ian decided to intercept one of them for research.

"Without eyes, how do they perceive things? What fascinating creatures!"

Ian twirled his wand between his fingers.

Before Kam could react...

Ian had already slipped away.

"Imprisonment and shackles!"

A beam of silver-blue light shot from the wand, striking the Faceless One at the back of the group with pinpoint accuracy. Magical chains coiled around the greyish-white body like living snakes, forcibly pulling it from the group. The bound Faceless One struggled violently, and a crack suddenly appeared in the center of its flat face, emitting a sickening metallic creak.

The trapped faceless man abruptly turned, its smooth "face" facing Ian. In an instant, a non-human roar erupted from its body, like the simultaneous screams of hundreds of people, shaking the very air. The sound was filled with rage, savagery, and some indescribable pain, as if it were not a heartless machine.

Rather, it is a soul that is imprisoned.

Ian remained unmoved, and his wand drew three ancient runes in succession.

"Dust of Sleep!"

Fine golden powder enveloped the struggling creature.

Its movements gradually slowed down, and it eventually froze in place like a statue.
Ian cast a spell again to block the probe.

A semi-transparent magical barrier instantly unfolded across the street, like an invisible cage, trapping one of the Faceless Men and the sinners he had captured within. The other Faceless Men seemed to sense the anomaly, but did not stop, continuing their journey in silence, seemingly indifferent to their companion's plight. Ian immediately stepped forward.
They wanted to examine this mysterious creature carefully.

"Are you insane?" Kam burst from his hiding place. "This is blatant defiance of temple law enforcement!"

"Quiet." Ian was already crouching beside the Faceless One, the tip of his wand glowing with the blue light of a diagnostic charm. "I need to see what these things are."

The magical beam swept across the Faceless One's torso, revealing its internal structure—no bones, no organs, only countless tiny golden gears and flowing mercury, enveloped by some translucent gelatinous substance. Most astonishingly, the surface of the pulsating crystal core in the center of its chest cavity was covered with miniature hieroglyphs.

"It's amazing."

He initially thought it was some ancient being similar to a Dementor, a substitute law enforcement tool in the magical world before the emergence of Dementors—a spiritual creature that feeds on sin. However, when he scanned its internal structure with Life Detection, he discovered a startling fact.

This faceless man is an alchemical life form.

Upon closer inspection, one can discover that its body is not made of flesh and blood, but rather of highly sophisticated alchemical materials—its skeleton is a mithril framework mixed with silver amalgam, its muscles are active tissues woven from magical fibers, and its internal organs are miniature rune engines that continuously operate to maintain its movement and senses.

Not just the chest.

Its "brain" is not a biological organ, but a black crystal embedded deep in its skull, with densely packed control runes inside.

Like a magical AI.

"The skill... is quite superb," ​​Ian murmured in amazement. This level of alchemy far surpasses that of the mainstream magical world today. It not only mimics the structure of a living organism but also endows it with the ability to act autonomously, recognize evil, and carry out tasks. This is no longer a simple "artificial human," but rather an existence approaching a "magical robot."

Ian took out a specially made silver knife and carefully scraped a small piece of flesh from the faceless man's arm—not real flesh, but a semi-gelatinous alchemical substance emitting a faint magical fluctuation. He stored the sample in his storage ring, preparing for future research.

At this moment.

Kam looked around nervously: "We have to get out of here quickly, the patrol could come at any moment."

“Wait one more minute.” Ian took a small crystal bottle from his sleeve, collecting some gelatinous substance and gear fragments. As he touched the core crystal, a sudden burning pain shot through his fingertips—an image appeared on the crystal's surface: countless figures kneeling before a distorted statue of a sun god.

Each person has a gold thread connecting their forehead.

Obviously.

This is a legitimate priesthood, or rather, a "program" set up by the Faceless Men to take those people as sacrifices to the false sun god.

"Sir!" Cam suddenly tugged at his sleeve. "There's movement!"

The words fell.

The sound of orderly footsteps echoed from the distant street; at least ten fully armed temple guards were approaching. Ian quickly withdrew his wand, releasing the binding spell.

The Faceless One, now free, slowly stood up. Its faceless "face" turned toward Ian, but it seemed to ignore him, mechanically turning around and walking toward the direction its companion had gone.

"It can't see us?" Kam's eyes widened in surprise.

“It’s not that I can’t see it.” Ian watched the Faceless One’s departing figure.

“It’s a problem with the criteria,” he said, pointing to the gold powder left on the ground—powder that had fallen from the captors. “These creatures only react to the ‘guilty.’”

Kam suddenly realized: "So you weren't attacked because..."

"Because they didn't judge me as a sinner."

Ian put away the crystal bottle, his brow furrowing even more deeply. "But this raises a more serious question—who defines the standard of 'sin'? And who wrote the enforcement procedures for these alchemical beings?"

When saying this.

The guards, dressed in special uniforms and forced to operate at night, also kept their distance from them—it was less like they were on patrol and more like they were rushing through a routine.

No one wanted to be active at night, not even those wearing the protective suits issued by the temple. Suddenly, a blinding red light shone from the direction of the temple, staining half the sky blood-red. Ian and Cam looked up simultaneously and saw seven dark figures rising from the temple's spire, forming a giant balance scale pattern in the night sky.

"The trial has begun," Kam's voice trembled. "Those arrested will be sent to..."

“It’s not just the trial.” Ian’s voice was low and rumbling, his grey-green eyes fixed on the distorted scales against the blood-red sky. “There wasn’t anything like this last night.”

Cam's Adam's apple bobbed, and his wand trembled slightly. "You mean this is specifically targeted at us?"

Ian did not answer immediately. His gaze swept across the now silent street—the residents who had just been screaming were now all locked back in their houses, trembling with fear.

Husband and family members have been arrested; that no longer matters.

They also sensed that something was wrong.

Even the cries of children were abruptly cut off.

The entire city of Memphis seemed to have been frozen in time, with only the eerie buzzing coming from the direction of the temple, like thousands of bees fluttering their wings in a metal can.

“Listen.” Ian suddenly held up a finger.

A faint, indistinct song drifted from a distant street corner.

The tune was so bizarre it sent chills down your spine—it was neither a cheerful folk song nor a mournful elegy, but a mechanical, monotonous chant.

Each note was so precise it was as if it had been measured with a ruler.

"Moonrise and Moonset: The Bride's Makeup"

The lyrics are vaguely discernible.

Kam's pupils suddenly contracted: "What...what the hell is this?"

Ian's wand was already in battle stance, its tip gleaming with a ghostly blue light. As the song drew closer, a dark figure slowly emerged from the street corner—a humanoid figure dressed in a tattered wedding gown. With each step, murky liquid dripped from the hem of her dress, corroding tiny pits into the stone slabs.

"A gold comb combs golden hair, a silver comb combs silver gauze."

The singing grew clearer, and the shadowy figure gradually revealed its true form. When the moonlight shone on that pale face, Ian's breath caught in his throat—it was the maid who had died by the river that morning! Her eyes were still filled with fine golden sand, but now those sands were moving eerily, forming various patterns as if they were alive.

Kam gasped, "Impossible! We clearly saw her body at the temple."

The maid suddenly stopped, her neck twisting at an impossible angle. Her mouth opened wide, so wide it tore the corners of her lips, revealing a dense array of needle-like teeth. The singing continued to pour from that dark, gaping mouth:
"The bride waits for the groom, and the sun rises."

Ian's magical senses went into overdrive—at least seven different curses surrounded the walking corpse, each powerful enough to kill an ordinary wizard instantly.

Even more frightening is...
The magical energy emanating from her was exactly the same as that of the embryo beneath the temple!
(End of this chapter)