"What do you want to say?" Turing's tone returned to calm, and his clear voice made Raphael doubt whether he was facing the same person as before.
—————————————————————
"Let it go, manager." Merka looked at the exhausted and almost unable to stand figure of Wutong, with swollen eye sockets, and spoke.
"It's not safe outside now, let me go instead of you." Merka embraced Wutong's weak body, gently, coolly, and sighed silently.
"It's alright, Merka... I can go from home to the shop by myself, and going to the church is not a problem either." Wutong, in Merka's embrace, regained some vitality in his words.
"How is that possible? Look at you, you can't even stand properly." Merka forcefully pressed Wutong onto a chair. Wutong, light and flexible, was easily pushed down by Merka.
"Our shop is no longer a place that brings happiness to people."
"When I go to the church, I will come and pick you up to go home. You don't need to do anything, just rest assured." Merka patted Wutong's shoulder and said.
"Alright... I'm sorry, little Merka, I might really be too tired." Wutong rested his face on the nearby table, quieted down, "I'll take a rest."
"Well, rest well, Mr. Wutong."
"I will come back, you must wait for me." Merka smiled, waved goodbye to Wutong as he left Castellammare.
"Sigh..." Another long sigh, Merka walked towards the church in Red Port. His pace was neither fast nor slow.
"Let's just tell the police that the chef is the killer to close the case."
"I'm tired, let's just end it like this." Sometimes, Merka wished he could be like others, having a smoke when troubled. Unfortunately, he couldn't.
Perhaps God wants me to bear the guilt while being sober?
Merka felt that the smooth and flat stone pavement in Red Port, which he used to admire, seemed like the tongue of a huge monster at this moment, distorted and grotesque.
It felt like he was supposed to walk into the monster's stomach himself, and he couldn't muster the motivation.
But a strange phenomenon suddenly re-energized Merka.
As he got closer to the church, it seemed like there were fewer and fewer people. There should have been at least some shopkeepers inside the shops.
When he arrived near the church, there were no more open shops.
"Is there no one?" Merka arrived at the entrance of the church, with the scorched earth caused by Turing still there, revealing a violent aesthetic.
"Go inside the church and say a prayer, then leave." Just as Merka was about to enter the church, something strange caught his attention.
"This is..." the little gear-like tree was still there, not affected by wind or rain.
"So it's still here."
Something unfamiliar but seemingly precious would generally be magical material. Merka believed his assumption.
"But if this is really magical material... maybe I don't even need to think about who the killer is." Merka almost forgot the purpose of his visit to the church, his brain spinning rapidly.
"The witch had foreseen everything, even her own death."
"This indicates that everything may still be under her control. This magical material might be part of her plan."
"As for what the magical material can be used for... of course, it's for casting spells."
"Right... there are only burn marks at the scene, why is there no trace of the witch's water flow impact?" Merka grasped the detail in an instant, seeing the clue.
Merka stood in a position roughly from his memory and said, "It seems like this place was damaged by water flow back then."
"Should I dig and take a look?" Merka's eyes flickered with darkness, and a halo appeared above his head.
Immediately, Merka shot up, his right fist struck out swiftly, leaving behind a series of afterimages, and directly lifted several layers of floor tiles.
Complex and intricate symbols and patterns appeared on the bare ground, instantly becoming visible.
"Is this... could it be a magic circle?" Merka was startled, carefully examining the patterns and directions of the magic circle.
Boom, another punch. Merka followed the path extending from the magic circle and began uncovering it step by step.
The depth at which the magic circle was buried varied, from the surface to the deeper underground, and even spreading onto the church. The size of the magic circle was immeasurable, definitely not something that could be drawn in a few months.
Merka stood in the uneven pit, beads of cold sweat forming on their back.
"The witch...she returned from the outside world a year ago, right?"
"It does indeed take about a year to create something like this."
Now, the magic circle, the magical materials, and the witch were all prepared.
If we exclude the possibility that the witch has already filled the magic circle with magic power, the only thing left is the indispensable incantation.
"Speaking of which...the cook came a year ago too, didn't he?" A feeling of conspiracy began to dominate Merka's heart. The pressure loomed over Merka's head like a dark cloud.
Like a phoenix rising from the ashes, the witch secretly came to the church every day to dig up a brick, draw a symbol, and then fill the brick back in. This image became increasingly vivid in Merka's mind.
"A magic circle of this size requires a considerable amount of incantations. It would probably take over a thousand people to activate it," Merka said. The power of an incantation cannot be increased simply by having more people recite it. Each person's incantation is fixed, no matter how many times the incantation is recited, there are only a limited number of incantations that can be activated.
Therefore, to perform large-scale magic, it often requires many people to chant the incantation together.
Among them, there is the national law of Fuzawa, "Bouquet". A magic circle of that magnitude requires over ten thousand people chanting the incantation together to activate the magic – which is indeed a hymn. Everyone sings the hymn together and recites the incantation.
"Although I don't know where she found so many people to help her recite the incantation."
"But for now, the chaotic clues from Kesimani are likely to be a diversion created by the witch."
"As long as I know how this magic is activated and for what purpose, I should be able to figure out what she wants and why she wants to kill Prince An and the others," despite having a mind overflowing with clues, Merka managed to sort out a relatively likely outcome.
"Speaking of large-scale magic like 'Bouquet'...this magic circle does seem to have a similar pattern..." Merka, who studied theology, naturally remembered the magic circle of the ultimate magic in theology.
The same patterns, the same script, only the size of the magic circle was different...
"Since that's the case..." Merka was about to open up a bit more of the surface to explore the complete picture of the magic circle when suddenly, a familiar voice came from behind them, "Hey, why so violent?"
Merka turned around incredulously and saw the person they least wanted to see here, at this moment, at this crucial moment.
"Judas... why is it you?" The simple surprise no longer described Merka's current state of mind.
"I'm really glad you came just when we were only missing a few people,"
"I've already killed almost everyone around here, it's really quite annoying,"
"Truly, a good friend of mine, Merka."
Talking to themselves, Judas pulled out the cigarette gun that originally belonged to the Tide Witch from behind him.
"Oh, by the way, do you want to take a family photo before you die? After all, the people in Kesimani are like family to me." Judas smiled. The sound of flowing water surrounded his body.
