The Secret Cult Chronicles of the Decaying Lake Manor

Chapter 98 The Conversation Between Stone and the Viscount

The Viscount watched George leave the library.

His fiery gaze lingered on the door for a moment, then the weariness and earnestness on the viscount's face receded like the tide, revealing the jagged rocks that had been buried beneath.

A calmness appeared on his face, an expression perhaps only Atlas, who had carried the entire sky on his shoulders for countless years, could possess.

He turned to the shadows of the bookshelf and said, "Come out, Stone."

The air distorted slightly, and a dream creature named Stone emerged from the shadows of the book spine.

It silently scrutinized the Viscount.

"You're still the same, sir," Stone finally spoke, his voice filled with deep respect, "in this way—always in this way."

The viscount's lips twitched, revealing an expression that was hardly a smile.

"What's wrong with this method? At least it works."

"It works, but at a price—are you really sure this is the last chance?" Stone's thin fingers twisted together anxiously.

"Mortals can probably handle most of the difficult things they encounter with their will—but that's not realistic for us," the Viscount interrupted casually.

"I've believed in myself and fate for a long time now."

Stone remained silent.

"You're always like this. Like your father, yet unlike your father." After a moment, it whispered, "Lord Charles de la Pole chose the safest path, while you—"

"And me?" The Viscount sneered, his voice suddenly turning sharp, "I'm tired of this safe haven of sitting on a powder keg!"

"If I don't do it, George might hand this mess over to his descendants, and that could be two hundred years from now, Stone!"

The viscount stood up again and waved his arms in a very unladylike manner.

"For two hundred years, the Delapor family has stood like loyal watchdogs on this damned lake, sacrificing themselves along with countless other Highgarden nobles throughout the Kingdom of Bretta! And now the Empress is even rummaging through those haphazard corpses, making the foundations of the empire increasingly shaky!"

His chest heaved violently, but his pale face remained completely bloodless.

"Sometimes I really wish the Gallic people would attack, and that Napoleon's descendants would pray to heaven for fire and burn London to the ground."

Stone watched sadly as the Viscount gradually calmed his anger.

After sitting back down in his chair, the Viscount gave another summary.

"Playing it safe" can delay physical death. But if you accept your fate, your spirit will die before your body. Why do you think your father gave up his ambitions?

Stone lowered his eyes.

"I followed your father for sixty years, and then followed you for thirty years," it said slowly.

"Your genius truly surpasses that of your father. He spent his entire life reaching the pinnacle of the Lawbringer, while you touched the threshold of achievement at a much younger age. Back then, you almost succeeded..."

"Almost." The Viscount savored the word. "Yes, five years ago I was just one step away from success, just one step away..."

"

His voice lowered, filled with deep pain.

"Edrina understands the burdens her family carries even better than I do. Such a respectable woman, she made that courageous choice."

"My lord," Stone interrupted him, "that's all in the past."

"That's right, let bygones be bygones." The viscount raised his head, his eyes regaining their cold light.

"George will complete the work originally envisioned; only those who remain true to their ideals can stand before the Supreme One."

"But—that young master is still too inexperienced and doesn't meet the requirements to activate the seal." Stone hesitated.

"He hadn't even completed the transformation of 'desire,' and the people of Highgarden had already arrived."

"Ms. Celsa is no benevolent woman; behind her is the Duchess of Athor."

"Of course they won't let me touch the seal. Although they also covet this power, without the blood of the Lord of Fury and the Lionheart, they simply can't have it."

The viscount interrupted him, his gaze becoming profound.

"If all goes well, they'll be no threat in another two weeks. I'll give George part of the truth; he'll go further and eventually understand me."

He paused for a moment: "After all, not everyone can ascend to heaven while lying down."

"This isn't fair," Stone said in a low voice. "You're gambling with his life."

"How many people have risked countless dangers throughout the long years, just for a chance to ascend to immortality?" The Viscount's voice was devoid of warmth.

"Moreover, every member of the De La Porte family has been shackled ever since they signed the secret pact with the royal family a hundred years ago."

"Whether it's George, Frederick, or even Albert and Sybil—they were born with this burden. For the sake of future generations, the sacrifice of a few is perfectly acceptable."

Stone took a deep breath, the sound almost like dust being sucked into his chest.

"So—what if you lose the bet? What if George fails, or breaks down because he can't handle the truth?"

A faint smile appeared on the viscount's face.

"Then the Delapor family will probably cease to exist." His voice was eerily calm. "Speaking of which, I should have sent Albert and Frederick away, and Arthur should have stayed far away from the manor."

He turned around and straightened his slightly wrinkled morning robe.

"Now, I'm going to see that lady from the High Court. Witnessing the inheritance proceedings is one thing, but more importantly, I need to confirm some bottom lines with her."

Stone watched his retreating figure in silence.

"My lord—" it said finally, its voice trembling, "this is—the last chance. For you, for the De La Porte family, it is."

The viscount paused for a very brief moment.

"I know."

His voice drifted over and faded at the end of the corridor.

"To win or to die."

The study door opened and closed again.

Stone stood alone before the gradually dying fireplace, slowly shaking its head, its form becoming blurred like a thin mist pierced by the morning light.

"I'm sorry, Charles, I failed," it murmured. "As expected."

The last sliver of shadow sank into the darkness deep within the bookshelf.

The library returned to silence.

Meanwhile, after leaving the Viscount, George went to the ceremonial room on the ground floor as arranged.

The Viscount had just upgraded his key, giving him free access to most parts of this wondrous tower.

In a sense, this place is increasingly resembling Hogwarts.

Frederick still lay on that smooth stone slab, his entire body covered in wondrous crystals.

Although the deep, rich red crystals were not transparent, George could not see his brother's purified appearance.

But at least the unsettling insect-like mutated features on his body have completely disappeared, and he has regained his human form.

Knowing he might have to stay another hour or two, George decided to sit cross-legged nearby.

He closed his eyes, his consciousness sinking into the card table deep in his mind, and began to take stock of the cards he had.