Fixers,
If believers are ants crawling on the ground, begging for an Angel’s mercy, then Fixers are the high-potential stocks handpicked by the Angels themselves. They receive direct blessings and possess all sorts of bizarre, transcendent abilities.
Most importantly, they do not need to offer any sacrifices to the Angels, nor do they need to fulfill any obligations.
It is quite literally a blank check with no strings attached.
In the game he played, many Fixers even stood on the front lines to kill Angels during the plot.
The conditions for becoming a Fixer depended entirely on the whims of the Angels. According to the game’s setting, there was once even a literal rat that became an Angel’s Fixer.
Jiang Ming stared at the remaining bubbles in his cup, his voice calm as he spoke:
“That is a proposal so generous it is terrifying.” He looked up, his gaze piercing through the pervasive blood-mist to meet those deep, dark eyes. “Unfortunately, I have no desire to form a deep bond with an Angel—especially one like you—for the time being.”
He gently placed the empty cup on a stone beside him, letting out a crisp clink.
“Once I become your Fixer, even if you ask nothing of me, the threads of fate will have already entangled us. It is not a contract, yet it is firmer than any contract could ever be.”
The corners of his mouth quirked into a smile:
“And I happens to be someone who hates following a prearranged script.”
“So,” he said, meeting that gaze that seemed capable of piercing through his soul, “I choose to refuse.”
Hearing Jiang Ming’s refusal, the Red-haired Woman did not show the slightest hint of anger; instead, the corners of her lips curled into a meaningful arc. She produced a Silver Coin from somewhere unknown and placed it gently into Jiang Ming’s open palm.
“I am becoming more and more curious about just how much you actually know.”
“But don’t be too quick to close the door,” she said, her red hair falling like a waterfall as she stood up. “Who knows… we might actually get along surprisingly well.”
“You should understand that the curtain of this era has already begun to curl and turn brittle at the edges. The final Glimmer is fading away.” The Red-haired Woman placed that slightly warm Silver Coin into Jiang Ming’s palm. Her fingertips brushed across his skin as if by accident, leaving behind a cold fragrance of sulfur and roses.
“A person like you, who can see the patterns, shouldn’t fail to smell the scent of corrosion in the wind. The game has reached the endgame; the sound of pieces being placed is growing more urgent. If you wish to step into this domain, or even… touch the ending, your first step is never to look for the board.”
She leaned in slightly, her deep black eyes reflecting Jiang Ming’s calm face, as well as the turbulent shadows deeper within. Her voice dropped lower, like a secret conspiracy:
“You must first become a piece. A recognized piece qualified to remain on the board.”
She paused, her lips curving into a faint arc that seemed to sever light and shadow.
“And within my current game, it just so happens…”
Her words hung there in a delicate suspension. Her gaze locked onto Jiang Ming, as if weighing the texture and mass of his soul, before she slowly exhaled those words—light as a sigh, yet heavy as a falling crown:
“…that I am missing a King.”
“This is a meeting gift.” She turned toward the fading crimson veil. “You know how to use it.”
In the next second, the scarlet spiderwebs covering the cathedral receded like a tide. The writhing tentacles and the woman’s figure dissolved into the air simultaneously.
Only the Silver Coin in his palm, still carrying her body heat, proved that the conversation just now was not a hallucination.
Jiang Ming picked up the coin and observed it closely. Against the sunset, the front of the coin was stamped with a masked man. If one observed carefully, they would realize that the features of the masked man were remarkably similar to Jiang Ming’s current appearance.
That was his image as the Lord Protector.
Speaking of which, when he played the game, he rarely took off his mask; only a few people knew his true face.
After some thought, Jiang Ming finally placed the coin into his inner coat pocket.
Just as Jiang Ming closed his eyes, intending to use this dead silence for a moment of respite—
“CRACK!!”
A crisp sound of something breaking suddenly echoed from above.
Jiang Ming opened his eyes and looked up.
A large circular hole had appeared in a corner of the cathedral’s domed ceiling.
The residual light of the sunset and the cold wind poured through the hole, dispersing the thick scent of blood in the room.
At the edge of the hole stood a young girl dressed in a dark uniform and coat. Her long black hair fluttered slightly in the night wind. Her red eyes, set within an exquisite face, looked down at the wreckage of the cathedral with an indifferent expression.
Beside her were a pair of Giant Scissors, nearly as tall as she was. The scissors were strangely shaped, their blades shimmering with a cold, ghostly light under the moonlight as they hovered silently in the air.
Without a hint of hesitation, the girl lightly tapped the edge of the hole with her toe, and her figure drifted down like a paper kite that had been cut loose.
Her dark skirt flared briefly in the night wind, but the trajectory of her descent followed an unnaturally straight path.
It was as if the suffocating height between her and the ground had been clipped away by some invisible force.
*Ttap.*
She landed steadily three steps away from Jiang Ming. The strange Giant Scissors fell in sync with her, their cold tips soundlessly touching the ground.
The girl stood still, watching Jiang Ming. Her red pupils were like frozen glass, reflecting his disheveled form. Her black hair hung straight down. She wore a neatly kept dark school uniform, her face exquisite but devoid of any expression, like a meticulously crafted paper doll.
The massive, strange scissors leaned against her side, their blades gleaming with cold light.
The girl and Jiang Ming locked eyes in the cathedral filled with dust and death.
Her red eyes were calm and waveless; Jiang Ming, leaning against the cold stone wall, used the last of his strength to remain conscious as he sized up this eerie girl who had fallen from the sky with her Giant Scissors.
The silence was palpable, stretching for several seconds between them.
Finally, the girl’s lips moved slightly, and her cold voice broke the stagnant air as she asked:
“Are you still alive?”
Jiang Ming blinked. In his eyes, which were somewhat unfocused due to blood loss and exhaustion, a giant question mark clearly emerged.
“?”
He opened his mouth as if to say something, but swallowed it back, finally just twitching the painful corner of his mouth to squeeze out a raspy voice:
“…What else? Is the one… talking to you… a ghost?”
Elvira tilted her head slightly, a flash of confusion seemingly passing through her red eyes.
A moment later, as if remembering something, she reached into her inner uniform pocket and pulled out a wrapped lollipop.
She walked up to Jiang Ming, peeled the wrapper off with practiced ease, and then almost roughly shoved the candy directly into Jiang Ming’s mouth, which was slightly agape in shock.
“Mmph…?!”
A refreshing sweetness instantly dissolved in his mouth, followed by a strange sense of relief. It felt as though a gentle power was flowing through his throat and into his limbs, dispelling some of the heavy weakness and pain.
Jiang Ming was stunned. He was about to open his mouth to thank her, but the cool sensation suddenly became overwhelming, like an icy current rushing into his brain—
A wave of intense dizziness hit him without warning. his vision darkened and spun rapidly. The last thing he saw was Elvira’s still-expressionless face and her retreating, fair fingers.
In the next second, his consciousness cut out completely.
Elvira quietly watched the now-limp, sleeping Jiang Ming and pulled a walkie-talkie from her coat. She operated it skillfully for a few moments and held the receiver to her ear.
“This is Elvira from the Special Action Group. I have arrived at the target cathedral.”
Her voice was steady and flat, as if reporting the weather.
“The scene is exceptionally ‘clean.’ The residual traces match the characteristics of the ‘Mother of Gluttony’ after finishing a feast.”
A brief inquiry seemed to come from the other side.
Elvira’s gaze fell upon the unconscious Jiang Ming.
“Mission report? No.”
“The situation has changed.”
“This time… there is a survivor.”