Secret World of Occultists-Chapter 41: Last Chance

Abel was completely unaware that his house was broken into as he slept. In fact, he had been unaware that he had been followed ever since he left his new flat on Highfield Street.

While he was deeply asleep, muttering gibberish now and then, the door to his bedroom slowly opened.

The three men silently walked in. The light from the moon faintly illuminated their faces—all of them were middle-aged men.

They were dressed in black from head to toe, except for their white shirts.

The man in the lead gestured to one of them—a burly man—to approach Abel, to which the latter nodded. Then, the first man signaled to the other man to stand by the window.

Finally, he remained standing by the door, watching everything unfold before his calm brown eyes.

The burly man approached Abel with silent and measured steps. Despite the wooden floorboard creaking from his heavy weight, strangely enough, no sound was produced.

It was evident that these people were using supernatural means to conceal their presence.

As the man stood by the single-frame bed, he saw the blond-haired youth drooling from his mouth, muttering incomprehensible words.

The man frowned ever so slightly. Then, he took out his revolver from his underarm holster and pressed the barrel to Abel’s forehead.

"Wake up, Mr. Occultist."

Hearing those ominous words and feeling the cold barrel of the gun pressing against his temple, Abel slowly opened his eyes.

The room was dark and there was barely any moonlight filtering in from the window. When his vision cleared, he gazed at the burly middle-aged who was pointing the gun at him.

His heart started pounding wildly, gripped by immense fear and panic. However, outwardly, he didn’t dare to show it. He put on a calm display.

"I thought I saw someone loitering in the alley across the road," he said, trying to appear as calm and collected as possible.

The burly man frowned, not having expected such a reaction from the blue-eyed youth.

"Who are you people?" Asked Abel, his gaze darting from one person to another, none of whom he recognized.

All he could tell was that they were dressed finely. Their coats and overcoats looked expensive and tailormade.

He couldn’t recall ever having enmity with someone who looked like them.

Wait, could it be Jenny’s father?! He thought in alarm.

But the next moment he discarded that idea. Because the person aiming the gun at him clearly called him an Occultist. Jenny’s father wouldn’t know of his secret identity.

The burly man stated with an emotionless voice, "We are the sworn enemies of the Ministry."

At that moment, Abel’s body involuntarily shuddered ever so slightly—a fact that didn’t go unnoticed by the three mysterious men in the room.

Sworn enemies of the Ministry! Fuck!

How did they know I’m from the Ministry?! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Is there a mole in the organization?!

"Hehe," Abel let out a light chuckle, trying to sound as normal and calm as he possibly could, "And what makes you think I’m part of the Ministry?"

He paused for a moment before continuing, "Look around you. Does this place look like it belongs to someone who works for the Ministry?"

"Do not lie, boy!" The man pressed the gun to the youth’s forehead.

Abel couldn’t help but gulp. "I’m not lying, sir. I do not work for the Ministry."

"Heh, but you do know what the Ministry is, don’t you?" The lanky man standing by the window sneered.

Abel looked at him and sneered back, "Of course, I know what the Ministry is. I’m a rogue Occultist forever fated to hide from them. Only a fool with a Hallmark might not know what the Ministry is or what they stand for!"

His heartbeat started speeding up. Faster and faster. He had never spoken such bullshit with a straight face in both of his lives.

He turned to look at the man before him and stated, "Sir, let us talk this out like civilized men. Tell me what you need, and I will deliver. There is no need for violence."

"Oh?" The man found Abel’s words very amusing. With the gun still pressed to the youth’s head, he spoke, "What I need, you will deliver, is that it?"

"Yes, sir. Whatever you need. Let’s talk this out."

"Then tell me everything you know about the Ministry!" The man muttered coldly. "Tell me about their containment sites. How many agents do they have in Newport? What are their Grades? Tell me everything you know!"

Abel’s heart was gripped by fear. At that point, he couldn’t help but think about the cursed coin in his possession.

It has cursed me with misfortune, after all. I’m fucked!

"Sir, I’ve told you already that I don’t work for the Ministry—"

His voice got caught in his throat when he saw the man cock the gun!

The burly man pulled back the hammer of the single-action revolver with his thumb, "Last chance, boy. Tell us everything you know, or... die!"

Fuck! What do I do?! What do I do?!

He had sworn an oath of secrecy on that Anomalous Object known as the Oathbinder. He could not reveal anything about the Ministry to outsiders even if he wanted to.

Fuck... am I really going to die again?! I don’t want to die! I don’t want to die!

He recalled Mr. Kensignton’s words, about what he said would happen if someone attempted to violate the oath.

It would result in extreme psychological distress, involuntary physical restraint, and in severe cases, violent self-inflicted injuries.

That... that means there’s still a chance that I may yet live!

But when he thought about how nice and kind everyone from the Ministry had been to him, he was intensely conflicted.

Fuck! Do I really have no other choice?!

Right at that moment, the lanky man standing by the window spoke again, "If you are worried about the oath of secrecy that you’ve sworn, then you can rest assured.

"Some of us are former agents of the Ministry. So, technically, you will not be breaking the oath if you tell us."

Abel’s eyes narrowed as a drop of sweat trickled down the side of his forehead.

"So, what will it be?" The man holding the gun to his head asked again. "Divulge or die."

Abel took a deep breath, finally having made his decision. He looked the man straight in the eye and spoke in a shaky voice, "Fine... do whatever you want."

The burly man’s eyes narrowed at the youth’s response before he squeezed his finger on the trigger.

Then...

Everything went dark.