Dorothy’s Forbidden Grimoire Novel - Chapter 466

Chapter 466**Pritter, Tivian.**

Within a shadowed grove on the southern outskirts near the city, three individuals stood. Hadi, having risen after receiving a seal brand, observed Adel and Grey facing him. A slight smile touched his lips before he addressed them.

“Very well then, ladies and gentleman, let us commence formally. The lady will now take her leave.”

Having spoken, Hadi shifted his focus to Adel nearby. Adel offered a small, knowing smile.

“My, must the lady really excuse herself? Well then, I shall make myself scarce for the moment, to maintain my innocence, unblemished as a newborn’s.” As she spoke, Adel cast Hadi a teasing look, masking half her face with a folding fan as she withdrew from the area. Hadi pressed his lips together briefly at her remark before redirecting his attention to Grey.

“Then, Shadow-face sir, shall we start? Are the necessary items ready?”

“Absolutely.”

As he responded, the two men bearing identical features within the grove started to undress. Once they had removed their inner garments, they swapped them. Grey put on Hadi’s inner clothes, while Hadi dressed in Grey’s. Hadi then refastened his original outer coat over them, intentionally leaving several buttons undone to reveal a section of the exchanged inner layer.

Grey, however, did not don his own outer coat. He retained only the borrowed shirt, now visibly soiled. From a small bag he carried, he extracted a hospital-acquired blood pack, ripped it open, and liberally smeared the thick, dark red liquid over his shirt, creating the illusion of severe injury.

After generously coating himself in the fake blood, Grey retrieved another small pouch from his bag and threw it to Hadi. Hadi caught it, feeling the solid objects inside. He secured it on his person, then spoke to the bloodied figure who now resembled Grey.

“Alright, all preparations are complete… Are you set, Shadow-face sir?”

“Ready when you are…” Grey answered with disciplined resolve. He scanned their surroundings, checked both their appearances, glanced towards the distant warehouse, then voiced a concern. “Based on your prior evaluation, Detective, there’s probably a White Ash rank and several Black Earth ranks inside… The Bureau would need to send at least two White Ash squads to tackle a force like that. Approaching them with just the few of us… is it really possible?”

“Set your mind at ease, it’s achievable. Provided everyone fulfills their part, coordinates smoothly, even if minor slip-ups occur, I have backup plans. With that lady lending unseen support, no major issues should develop.”

Maintaining an utterly calm and collected manner, Hadi answered directly. Hearing this, though a trace of unease remained in his eyes, Grey nodded. Remembering the mysterious woman who had just departed, Grey couldn’t help but reflect.

From Grey’s perception, that woman seemed profoundly enigmatic, possessing some uncanny power not less than the Detective’s own. The subdued lookout seemed to be her doing. Grey sensed she might be an extraordinary being of a higher caliber than himself, and she evoked a strange feeling of familiarity in him.

*’The Detective, capable of projecting influence across great distances; the cryptic lady manipulating subconscious actions with invisible force… The powers wielded by the Rosicrucians are exceptionally uncommon and elusive, brutally effective… Such an organization truly lies beyond ordinary judgment. I must not apply the Bureau’s yardstick to the Rosicrucians…’*

Grey thought silently. Having confirmed in his thoughts that the Rosicrucians’ capabilities defied normal measurement, his initial nervousness diminished significantly. Relaxing a fraction more, Grey prepared himself to carry out the next stage of the operation.

“Very well, then let’s move forward.”

……

Outskirts of South Tivian, within a derelict warehouse. In a partially enclosed area created by heaped rubble, a Silence ritual circle drawn in powdered bone ash marked the ground. Bound and unconscious upon the circle lay Nuno.

At the edge of the circle, the bearded and robed Atif sat cross-legged. His intense gaze was locked on Nuno, his mind deeply engaged in analyzing and attempting to breach the powerful soul-protection mark guarding the captive.

As Atif immersed himself in this ritualistic scrutiny, a shrill psychic scream – perceptible only to Silence practitioners – suddenly pierced his awareness. It was the alarm cry of the Wraiths guarding the warehouse perimeter.

Instantly, Atif frowned. He stood up from his seated posture and strode rapidly out of the crumbling brick enclosure into the warehouse’s larger main area. Emerging, he saw three of his subordinates rushing towards him, urgency etched on their faces.

“Atif-sir! The Wraiths outside are shrieking! Intruders!” one subordinate shouted, tension sharp in his voice. Atif swiftly surveyed the warehouse interior. Detecting no immediate disturbance, he demanded sharply, “Where is Hadi? He was assigned lookout duty tonight!”

Atif’s sharp question lingered. Before the gathered subordinates could answer, the warehouse door creaked open slightly. A figure stumbled through the gap. It was Hadi.

“S-sir! I-Intruders! Savage… I couldn’t hold them…” Terror was vivid on his face as Hadi clutched one arm, lurching towards Atif. Seeing the panic-stricken man approach, Atif initially prepared to hear his report. But as the distance shortened, something registered.

Though yelling in Northern Ufian, the accent felt subtly wrong to Atif. Worse, the approaching Hadi’s attire was strangely disheveled. Under the warehouse lights, Atif glimpsed inner garments that didn’t match his recollection of what Hadi had worn earlier. This cascade of irregularities flooded Atif’s mind with Hadi’s warning from that very day.

The warning about a man identical to the old butler they held captive, seen distributing alms on Blackwater Street. Atif had suspected then it wasn’t mere chance. Two identical individuals meant either improbable twins, or…

…or unnatural power had duplicated one face onto another.

Sudden understanding widened Atif’s eyes. He thrust an accusing finger at the Hadi staggering towards him. “Stop! Stay right there! Don’t come any closer!”

His command froze “Hadi” just a few paces away. Confusion contorted Hadi’s features. Beside Atif, his deputies exchanged startled looks.
“Sir? What’s wrong–?”

Atif’s piercing stare fixed on the halted man, his voice razor-sharp. “Hadi. Declare your full name. What is your place of origin? When did we first encounter each other?” Three rapid-fire questions. The man paused, visibly bewildered.

“Ah… what *is* my name… just a moment…” A flustered stammer came from the man.

Atif’s expression turned to ice. Beneath his robes, his fingers closed on a smooth bone fragment. Too slow.

“Stop him!”

A new voice cracked like a whip. Heads snapped towards the entrance. The sight rooted Atif’s deputies to the spot.

Leaning heavily against the doorframe stood a blood-soaked horror without a coat. Crimson hair and features identical to Hadi glared back at them with terrifying fury.

“That filthy imposter… shape-changer… could be… anyone…” the specter rasped through bloodied lips, jabbing a shaking finger towards its living double. “He’s… fake!”

Adrenaline surged through Atif. The puzzle locked into place! Imposter. Shapeshifter. Right under their guard.

Every deputy spun towards the man they’d almost vouched for moments before. But “Hadi” wasn’t playing innocent now. A furious snarl twisted his lips as he glared at his blood-drenched twin. “You damned pest! Still breathing?!” Teeth clenched against the sting of exposure. The carefully laid trap had snapped shut around him.

The deputies instantly formed a protective cordon. The deceptively calm “Hadi” met their suspicion with narrowed eyes. Then, like a desperate animal, he lunged straight at Atif.

Atif didn’t retreat. He was prepared. His hand clenched the bone shard. Ancient power surged through him like freezing current. He opened his mouth. Pure cold tore forth.

Frost-laden breath erupted from Atif’s lungs, engulfing the lunging impostor. White mist swallowed the figure entirely. The bitter cold pierced muscle and blood. All movement halted. The frigid vapor solidified as brittle frost coating rigid limbs.

*Thud.* The frozen man struck the concrete floor. Hatred etched permanently onto icy features.

Panting slightly from the effort, Atif lowered the bone shard. Relief was momentary. Tension snapped back instantly as all four men jerked their attention towards the doorway. Bone already visible through torn fabric, the bleeding figure sagged lower against the wood.

“Hadi! Stay with us!” one comrade shouted futilely.

“True Hadi” was beyond saving. Heavy, wet breaths rattled as crimson spilled from his mouth. He feebly pushed trembling fingers towards the others, a final warning scraping from his failing throat.
“Careful… imposters… besides me… he targeted… stir chaos… seize… chance…”

His body slumped to the floor, lifeless. Silence screamed louder than steel. Deputies froze, exchanged heavy glances. Then, chains of mistrust began coiling around them. The dying man’s warning echoed inside each skull like trapped insects.

Deadly suspicion choked the warehouse air. Survival instantly overrode loyalty. Backs scraped against concrete as tight groups broke apart. Eyes – wide, wary – scanned the swirling dust for imagined threats. Three men became potential assassins. Even Atif now kept his allies at a weapon’s length.

“I swear it’s me!” Protection Provider insisted, voice strained. “Atif-sir, you saw me beside the ritual just moments ago…”

“Sir, I am real!” Haunt Handler cut in urgently. “I was guarding the circle perimeter when the sealing commenced.”

“I didn’t—” Soul Gardner choked out.

Panic flared like sparks from scraping boots.

“Quiet!” Atif bellowed over the rising chaos. “Halt! Questions! Proof!”

Like startled beasts, the deputies hesitated. Then obeyed instantly – silence fell.

Then time seemed to stop. Again.

*Boom!*

Sound shattered the fragile air behind them.

A shattered iron container unleashed gritty devastation. Packed chemicals detonated violently upward, blasting open a sealed case near the frozen impostor’s chest. Heavy fog boiled through the shattered wreckage – thick, blinding silt mingling with chalky toxins.

“Cough-cough… what—?” Protection Provider gagged blindly.

“Can’t see!” Haunt Handler rasped through the thickness.

“Look out! This chaos is exactly what—!” Soul Gardner yelled uselessly into the dense cloud.

The blast itself had barely touched them, too controlled, detonated too far ahead. Their chance for verification was mockingly stolen before the first accusation could fly. Now the smothering haze concealed everyone. Every blurred silhouette transformed potential betrayal into absolute treachery.

A lethal echo:** “Stir chaos… seize the chance…”

It struck them like a physical blow. The words poisoned their thoughts instantly. Now? This? Perfect timing! Was the shadow killer now moving thickly among them? Was death breathing down their necks?

Adrenaline slammed defensive instincts into place. Like cornered jackals, deputies gripped spirit-charged bone fragments within the choking clouds. Eyes strained, seeking killer shadows – enemies hidden hungering just behind the fog. Swirling dust became blades weaving madness towards each terrified throat. Suspicion boiled towards one inescapable conclusion:

*Act before the hidden enemy strikes first.

*Waste precious seconds waiting? That’s suicide! Take control or die helpless!

*Who cares if a silhouette moves innocently? Eliminate every potential threat nearby!

*Attack anything that could kill me!

Trapped within dust storms and whispers, a critical fissure tore through their shared reason. Fear painted deeper shadows behind their eyes. Hatred bloomed sharply under pressure no rational thought could contain. Bonds of allegiance frayed like rotting cloth under corrosive dread. Decision seized their minds—strike blindly or die cornered by fog that shielded both hunter and prey.

And gradually… gradually… harsh breathing accelerated. Snarls tightened on faces of predators caught in a snare. Palms burned with the tangible power fixed onto weaponized shards. Fingers flexed—itching—bloodthirsty—ready.

Then gradually… each shape within the swirling hell conceived identical impulses:

Attack.

Now.

Attack.

Before any shadow becomes venom.

Attack.

Hunted men embody madness.

Shrouded within the blinding clouds… every pair of eyes burned with insanity. Madness stained every optic nerve a corrupted hue.