Chapter Sixteen: Catherine

"Wait a moment, Andy!" Immersed in the carnage, Andy was suddenly startled awake by a clear voice—Kathleen’s voice. He spun around, but the direction from which the voice came held no sign of the familiar twin-tailed girl.

“I’m here.” Andy looked in surprise toward the source of the voice, and saw a black cat emerging from the flowerbed. It was Kathleen’s pet—Angel. Strangely, the cat’s mouth was moving, speaking in Kathleen’s voice.

The Phillips Manor was already a scene of devastation, blood and corpses everywhere, traces of battle scarring every corner. In this brutal hellscape, the little black cat staggered toward Andy. Its fur, once sleek and glossy, was now matted and tangled, streaked with soot. As it walked, it spoke, “I am Kathleen, this is a possession spell.” Now that Andy was closer, he could tell that it wasn’t the cat’s mouth speaking, but the sound produced by a zero-level spell, the Mimicry Charm.

“This…” Andy was dumbfounded, “How…you…”

Looking at the cat approaching him, hearing the familiar voice and tone, hope flickered in Andy’s heart. The darkness in his eyes gradually lifted, revealing a new focus.

“There’s no time to explain. My Mimicry Charm lasts only a minute. When I tried to escape, I found the city guard had already surrounded the manor. If you delay any longer, you’ll be attacked by knights and a squad of fully armed soldiers. Oh, and before you flee, don’t forget to take my body with you.” Even through the spell, Andy could hear Kathleen’s voice grow heavy with emotion.

A rush of words tumbled from the cat’s mouth, spoken with such speed it was clear time was short. The information was overwhelming, but the mention of the city guard’s encirclement startled Andy. He activated his Listening Spell, and immediately heard footsteps and the rattle of armor from all directions.

They really were surrounded.

When Andy tried to speak to Kathleen again, the black cat merely meowed incessantly, waving its paws at him. Clearly, the Mimicry Charm’s duration had expired.

“He’s inside!” Robert’s voice came from outside. Andy didn’t hesitate; he scooped up the cat, and, guided by her gestures, quickly found Kathleen’s headless corpse, with Old Brown’s body nearby.

Feeling the trembling cat in his arms, Andy gently tucked her into his coat, arranging her comfortably. He stroked her head and whispered, “Don’t worry. As long as I’m here, no one will hurt you again.”

After gathering their bodies and heads, Andy strapped Old Brown’s corpse to his back, tied the heads at his waist, then cradled Kathleen’s body with one arm and gripped his sword in the other, charging toward the manor’s rear left wall. He knew there was a low wall there—vaulting it would take him out.

The bodies weighed him down, but for a knight of Andy’s strength, it was nothing, especially with his Lightfoot Spell. He quickly reached the base of the wall, leapt lightly, and landed atop it.

Just then, a shout rang out behind him: “Where do you think you’re going?” It was the knight, Macon’s voice.

Andy ignored him, jumping down the other side onto the street, only to be confronted by a squad of fully armed soldiers.

“Stop him!” Macon shouted, barreling after Andy.

Outside, an officer gestured, and the soldiers formed ranks around Andy: the front row with shields, the middle with spears, the rear with short bows, and crossbowmen flanking both sides, all taking aim.

“Meow!” Kathleen cried, and the frontmost soldier saw a ghastly, fanged specter lunging at him. He recoiled in terror, opening a gap in their formation.

Sword Technique: Charge.

Andy seized the moment, dashing through the gap while the soldiers reeled from the zero-level Ghostface Spell. The rear ranks, wary of friendly fire, lost their chance for effective attack.

Andy unleashed his “Sword Technique: Sweep” at a rate of one strike per second, cutting through the crowd without hesitation. In just three rounds, he carved a bloody path and strode away.

Macon had just vaulted the wall, only to glimpse Andy’s retreating figure. He snatched a composite bow from his back, drew it to full arc, and loosed an arrow straight at Andy’s back.

With his Listening Spell active, Andy detected the whistling arrow and tried to dodge, but the bodies tied to him hampered his movement. He managed to avoid a fatal hit; the arrow pierced Old Brown’s corpse, losing momentum, but still struck Andy’s back.

He felt no pain, just a numbness at the wound. Without pausing to check, Andy cast Lightfoot Spell on himself and fled swiftly.

“After him!” Macon’s voice was nearly frantic. He leapt down, intending to pursue, but was blocked by the soldiers still crowding the street. Though their captain ordered them aside, many were wounded from the earlier clash, and moved sluggishly. By the time Macon forced his way through, Andy had vanished into the darkness.

Macon showed no great distress at losing Andy’s trail. He waved for his son, Robert, who hurried over. “Go fetch Mr. Charlie.”

Soon Charlie arrived, a guest scholar from Collinburg, a senior apprentice wizard. Hearing Macon’s account, Charlie nodded and began chanting.

Level Two Spell: Tracking. This was the same spell Bill had used to find Gerald.

As the spell took effect, Charlie’s nose grew keen, Andy’s scent now as plain as ink on white paper. Charlie led Macon, his son, the tall thin knight, and a squad of soldiers, slowly tracking Andy.

“Hmm?” At a corner, Charlie suddenly sounded surprised.

“What is it?” Macon asked quickly.

“The scent vanished,” Charlie said, baffled. “How is that possible? Not only his own scent, but the smell of blood is unmistakable—how could it suddenly disappear? Only professionally trained assassins or master wizards with Stealth could evade Tracking. He’s just a newly promoted wizard apprentice—how could he manage that?”

While Charlie puzzled over the conundrum, Macon realized they wouldn’t find Andy anytime soon. But his mission tonight was already accomplished. He fingered the flame-shaped medal in his pocket—it was time to report to the Viscount. As for Andy, a newly promoted knight and low-level wizard apprentice, Macon never considered him a real threat. Unlike the short, fat knight who indulged in vice after promotion, Macon was tempered by blood and fire of war, and never relaxed his training. The so-called knight elites who died at his hand already exceeded ten. Tonight, he felt only a tinge of disappointment toward his son.

Andy’s first instinct after escaping was to go home. Turning a corner, he suddenly sensed something was amiss—he’d forgotten something. After a moment’s thought, he cast Stealth and ran silently toward his house.

“What are you doing?” The black cat started speaking in Kathleen’s voice again. “You’re too fast—I can barely breathe, it’s unbearable!” She waved her paw in complaint.

“So you can speak again,” Andy asked, not slowing. “You said you’re Kathleen—how?”

“Ahh, Mimicry Charm drains too much mana. I’ll need to recover several times to explain it all.” Andy felt oddly unsettled, hearing Kathleen’s voice from the cat.

“No problem, I’ll wait.” As he spoke, Andy tried to hug the cat to his chest, wanting to make her more comfortable—forgetting he was still carrying a headless corpse. The cat shrieked.

Back to meowing again.

After returning home, Andy checked his wound—it wasn’t serious. The arrow had passed through Old Brown’s body, lost momentum, and was caught in Andy’s muscle, missing vital organs. He hastily applied some medicine, cleaned up, grabbed two sets of clothes, important items from his meditation room, and some coins before leaving—his home was no longer safe after falling out with the lord’s mansion. Fortunately, Kathleen could speak again, and guided Andy to her house.

At Kathleen’s house, Andy buried Old Brown and chatted intermittently with the black cat. At last, he learned the full story behind the cat’s claim to be Kathleen.

When the short, fat knight led the massacre at Phillips Manor, Kathleen saw even Bill—the strongest fighter—fall, and knew survival was hopeless. She used her innate wizard spell, “Kathleen’s Possession,” to inhabit her pet, Angel.

Kathleen’s soul talent allowed her to switch between herself and bonded creatures. She’d always used it for reconnaissance, never imagining it would save her life. While the executioners slaughtered, none paid mind to a cat’s movements. Sadly, her original body had been beheaded, leaving her soul with nowhere to return. She could never change back.

As she recounted everything, Kathleen grew agitated, often blaming Andy for bringing disaster. Andy said nothing, just listened quietly, then gently comforted the trembling cat in his arms. She was still a little girl, unable to accept reality. Perhaps, Andy thought, if he’d transmigrated as a cat or dog, he wouldn’t have accepted it either.

When Andy tried to bury Kathleen’s body, the cat refused vehemently, scratching two deep wounds into his arm during her mute period.

Andy reluctantly paused. He knew the girl still harbored hope. But the world of wizards was full of mysteries—perhaps higher-level spells could restore Kathleen’s body.

It was midsummer night; if her body wasn’t preserved, it would start to rot in two or three days. Andy pondered, then found a solution. He still had a zero-level spell slot. After some meditation, he easily learned “Water to Ice,” a spell usually used by wizards to chill drinks. For Andy, it made him a human ice machine.

He first cleared out the basement in Kathleen’s house, then filled it halfway with water. Andy jumped in, enduring the biting cold as he repeatedly cast “Water to Ice,” freezing the lower half. Then he carefully reassembled Kathleen’s corpse, stitched the wounds, and laid her on the ice. He filled the upper half with water and unleashed another round of spellcasting, so swift that even the anxious cat stared in awe.

Soon, the basement became a freezer. The naturally cool temperature would keep the ice solid and preserve Kathleen’s body.

His task finished, Andy finally felt the exhaustion overwhelm him—the grief, the fatigue from battle, the pain of water-soaked wounds all crashed down as he relaxed. He found a spot, collapsed, and quickly fell asleep.

Kathleen watched him, her expression layered and complex.