ushernet Chapter 302
Chapter 302
Chapter 302: Chapter 218: Past Grievances, Unforgettable Chapter 302: Chapter 218: Past Grievances, Unforgettable Aiwass carefully observed the old ritualist before him, who usually maintained a low profile.
Queen Sofia ascended to the throne sixty years ago.
She was not yet twenty at the time.
If the elderly Ibn knew Sofia back then, does that mean...
when he met Jacob Alexander, he was actually only in his early twenties?
He sported a white beard, and his naturally curly hair had also turned greying white.
Even dressed in the Avalon style, one could still glimpse a hint of a foreigner’s temperament in his features.
...
His greenish pupils were now veiled with a layer of grey due to his age.
Perhaps when he was younger, he too had been a handsome youth with profound features, black curly hair, and a beard.
What then did Jacob look like back in the day for Ibn, who had not seen him for decades, to feel a sense of familiarity upon seeing Aiwass?
At this thought, Aiwass was momentarily lost in reflection.
“Jacob Alexander...”
He focused his mind and replied softly, “He was my grandfather.”
Ibn looked puzzled, “But I recall, you are not of the Moriarty Family...”
“James Moriarty is my foster father.”
Aiwass explained, “When I was just a few years old, my parents and kin were all killed.
It was my foster father who raised me.”
“...So it was.”
Upon hearing this, the old man’s eyes, already somewhat cloudy, widened slightly, and he murmured to himself, “Such things happen in Avalon too...”
He fell silent for a while, seeming to age a few more years in the process.
“They were all cursed to death.”
Aiwass continued calmly, “According to my investigation over the years, my grandfather died fourteen years ago of ‘typhoid’.”
“Hah.
Typhoid...”
When Ibn heard this, he let out a scoff, “It must have been a typhoid curse.
That’s sorcery that Jacob invented...
His philosophy with curses was to maintain a low profile—best not to let people realize they were under a curse.
“It seems that the person who killed him must have once studied curse magic under him.”
It was like an experienced old doctor suddenly laughing upon hearing his students discuss a complicated medical case, interjecting to provide the precise answer.
The sigh that hinted at the inevitability of taking action himself, mixed with nostalgia for the past, exuded a detached yet reliable steadiness.
Aiwass had been wondering why the court ritualists of Avalon were so feeble...
After hearing Ibn tell his own story, he had thought that Queen Sofia was merely appreciative of his character and morality.
But the strong confidence emanating from the old man now made Aiwass truly feel his self-assurance.
Even with a low energy level, it did not mean weakness.
“Back then, we, the Hand of the Scaleless, merely wanted to help people deal with some nefarious big shots, get justice for the people, or teach them a lesson.
However, the Hand of the Scaleless didn’t want to become too famous or to become the reliance and trust of the people.”
Ibn sighed, “This was the experience I shared with Jacob.”
“...Experience?”
“Yes, experience.”
Ibn’s pupils were deep, and they held a trace of persistent sorrow, “If you become too famous, people will always come to you for solutions when they’re in trouble.
But we are not gods, and even gods aren’t omnipotent.
“However, people dare not blame gods, yet they dare to blame us.
They attribute failures to us not trying our best—although that is also true.
But as the number of cases we handle increases, we naturally have to prioritize.
If someone comes seeking help and is refused, that too will be frowned upon by others.
All our means of contact had been severed, and I received no response to my letters.
I suppose...”
The old man paused here, as if choked by memories, his words turning into a long sigh filled with a gritty heaviness.
—Presumably, they thought I had betrayed them.
Although Ibn didn’t say it out loud, Aiwass had already guessed his thoughts.
Rationally, it was very logical.
One couldn’t blindly entrust the survival of other comrades to Ibn’s conscience based on feelings and trust.
But that said, it was still quite hurtful.
...Nevertheless, that was something from sixty years ago.
The Hand of the Scaleless gradually faded into obscurity to be replaced by Noble Red, which happened around fifty years ago.
That is to say, it seemed that Ibn truly didn’t know about what happened ten years later...
Unfortunately, the lead was cut off again.
Aiwass felt somewhat regretful.
But with hopeful optimism, he continued, “It seems that my parents were also eradicated because of that manuscript.
According to my investigations, they were likely murdered by the Hook Demon.”
“...The Hook Demon?”
Ibn furrowed his brows, “There should have been a professional Cursing Sorcerer, right?
Could it be...”
“No.
It probably wasn’t someone from the Hand of the Scaleless.”
Aiwass explained, “The Cursing Sorcerer’s name is Aziz.
Aziz Ben Abdul.
Does that ring any bells for you?”
Upon hearing this name, Ibn’s expression abruptly changed.
It was as though an aged lion suddenly opened its eyes, shakily standing up, or like a dying wolf under the moonlight opening its eyes, that resigned yet desolate intent to kill sending a shiver down one’s spine.
“—Where is he?”
“...He’s long gone.
Supposedly crossed the desert and went to some eastern country...
perhaps Parthia, maybe Horus.”
Aiwass first responded, then hesitated before asking, “Do you know him?”
This was an unforeseen development for him.
He had initially thought he could learn about his grandfather from Ibn...but it turned out that Ibn knew very little about his grandfather, yet seemed to know the Cursing Sorcerer who had killed the Alexanders’ Couple.
“A large black man, right?”
Ibn asked in return.
“Yes.
His complexion is dark brown, and he’s somewhat hunchbacked.”
Aiwass nodded in affirmation, recounting the appearance of the man he had seen in the advanced ritual: “At that time, he wore bulky gemstone rings on all ten fingers...
About fifteen years ago, he appeared to be a man in his fifties.
By now, he should be in his sixties or seventies.”
“...It’s him.”
After a long silence, Ibn spoke softly, “Back in Parthia, it was he who betrayed me.
“He was my junior as well as my nephew.
At the same time, after the destruction of the city, he was the slave I had rescued.
“He betrayed us, who were wanted by the law, in exchange for the status of a free man, a large house, eight female slaves, and became a Cursing Sorcerer serving the Benevolent Lords...
“...So he has come to Avalon as well.”