Chapter Seventy-Nine: The Unbroken Veil

Late at night, all was silent. Moonlight spilled through the window, illuminating half the room. Kevin sat on his bed, quietly gazing at the crow, while the crow pecked here and there, just like an ordinary bird, as if searching for a midnight snack.

Kevin sat for a long time, organizing his thoughts before finally rising from the bed. The crow, startled, darted out the window and landed atop the wardrobe, where the moonlight did not reach and darkness reigned.

Kevin still walked to the window, picked up the book the crow had just been reading, and glanced at it. It was a magical notebook, a gift from the ambassador of the Kingdom of Laibozier, filled with intricate interpretations of spellcraft. Kevin had relied on this very book to master the key point of breaking through elemental collection with a magic missile.

He often took out this book to recite and review, so it wasn’t particularly well hidden—merely pressed at the bottom of a drawer beneath several other volumes. Normally, with the abilities of an ordinary crow, there was simply no way it could open the drawer, pull out the book, and place it on the windowsill to read. Even with special training, a bird’s strength would not suffice.

Flipping through the pages, Kevin saw the crow had reached page thirty-five, which discussed the special applications of wind spells. It seemed this was not the first time the crow had stolen a look at Kevin’s book—just the first time it had been caught. Usually, when Kevin read at night, the crow would hop onto his desk or shoulder, and Kevin would tease it, “Can you actually understand this?”

Now, it appeared it really could.

Kevin pondered for a long while, closed the notebook, and set it in the center of the desk. He lit the oil lamp, sat down to one side, and made a welcoming gesture. “Friend, whoever you are, whatever you intend, wherever you plan to go—tonight you’ve been exposed! So let’s sit down and have a proper talk.”

The crow remained on top of the wardrobe, silent.

“Oh, I forgot—you don’t seem to have the ability to sit,” Kevin chuckled in self-mockery.

The crow still ignored him.

“Are you still trying to act like an ordinary crow to fool me?” Kevin began to reason aloud. “But if you really are intelligent, you must have had a purpose from the start. When I was catching crows, you—as unqualified Number Six—repeatedly crashed into my net. That would surely draw my attention, leading me to capture you.”

“Then, to further catch my eye, you displayed formidable strength, easily thrashing every other bird. Your prowess naturally interested me, so I bought six magpies, only for you to trounce them all. Yet you were always careful to conceal your intelligence.”

As Kevin recalled, he tapped the desk lightly.

The crow still showed no reaction.

Kevin pressed on. “Whenever I tested your intelligence, you performed awkwardly. Yet in the end, you always managed to mimic the other crows’ actions. I used to think it was a learning process, but now I realize you simply didn’t know what level of intelligence to display to seem normal, so you just followed the others, didn’t you?”

“Caw… caw… caw…” the crow suddenly called, its meaning unclear.

“Are you worried your intelligence would frighten me?” Kevin continued. “What is your goal? To set all this up, you must have a deep motive. What are you after? Do you want to overthrow humanity?”

“Caw… caw… caw…” the crow called again.

“I once spoke with Professor Rook, who told me about some extraordinarily powerful, genius crows who even learned magic on their own, without being taught! But when I asked what happened to them, he told me not to ask further.” Kevin speculated. “Could you be one of them?”

“Did you escape?” Kevin still found it hard to believe. “If you’re truly so intelligent, why seek me out?”

“I remember on the border of Laibozier, a crow circled above my head. And when I was escorting a caravan and ran into bandits, there was a peculiar crow then as well. Was that you?” Kevin couldn’t help but let his imagination run wild. Unfortunately, he was hopeless at distinguishing between crows, so he simply lumped all suspicious ones together.

“Caw… caw… caw…” The crow’s calls grew more insistent, waking the other crows and magpies. The room was soon filled with chattering complaints at being disturbed in the middle of the night.

“Still pretending? Is it any fun?” Kevin shook his head. “Do you think that after talking for a while I’ll start doubting myself, thinking I’m paranoid or drunk? If so, you underestimate me.”

“Caw… caw… caw…” the crow persisted.

“Are you, perhaps, someone’s familiar? Did you approach me on purpose to steal military intelligence for your master?” Kevin shifted his line of thought.

“Or perhaps you were once human, transformed into a crow by powerful illusion or polymorph magic?” His imagination ran wild.

There were indeed such spells in the magical world. Illusion magic only caused people to believe they were animals, but their bodies remained unchanged. Polymorph magic, however, truly altered the species—most famously, the Sheep Transformation spell, turning people into sheep; in theory, one could become a crow as well.

Yet all magic had its limits, reverting after a set time—usually just moments. If a transformation lasted longer than a meal, the caster would be a seventh- or eighth-level wizard. There were exceptions, however. In the Lyon Empire, a man who cursed the emperor was turned into a pig and remained so to this day.

Could this be a person, not a crow?

“Caw… caw… caw…” the crow kept calling.

“Or did you and someone else exchange souls? Are you looking for my help?” Kevin racked his brain for possibilities. “Or are you from another world, somehow transported here?”

“Caw… caw… caw…”

“Enough.” Kevin drew his sword from the bedside. “You won’t talk? I’ll chop you up!”

The crow flapped wildly about the ceiling. Kevin raised his hand and fired off three magic missiles. The old farmer’s fists would be too much for a bird, but this crow had nothing to fear.

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh! The three missiles formed a triangle, blocking its escape. The crow tucked its wings and shot through the gap. Kevin grabbed a pillow and hurled it up—the cramped room left nowhere to dodge.

The crow stretched out its claws, caught the pillow midair, and tossed it back. Kevin ducked, found a shoe, and threw it too. The pillow and shoe collided and fell to the floor. In such a contest, Kevin was at a disadvantage—throwing from below was much harder than tossing from above, and whatever he threw would eventually fall back down.

“Caw… caw…” the crow continued.

Kevin retrieved his pillow and shoe, put them away, and changed his tone. “Honestly, I’m easy to talk to. Let’s have a proper conversation. As a bard, I’ve seen much of the world. If you’re in trouble, you can tell me. I can help you, and I won’t tell anyone how smart you are. I’ll respect your wishes.”

“Caw… caw…” the crow replied.

“Can’t you speak?” Kevin asked, surprised. He fetched paper and pen. “Then write. If you can read, you must be literate.”

The crow just stood far away, ignoring him.

“What do you want, then?” Kevin finally lost his temper. “If you intend to overthrow humanity, then as a human, I won’t hesitate to chop you up!”

The crow was silent.

“I don’t know what you’ve been through, nor what secret sorrows or painful memories you bear. If you do, I can only offer my sympathy. Everyone has unhappy experiences. I lost my father as a child, yet I don’t attack every priest I see. Do you understand?” Kevin warned gravely.

Truthfully, Kevin felt for the crows experimented on in the Royal Academy—such talent, yet not accepted by the world, was a pity. But then again, if a genius escaped, would it not become embittered and vengeful? Who could say if the academy taught morals along with skills?

What Kevin feared most was that, even after being unmasked, the crow stubbornly played dumb. What was it after? What grand scheme did it harbor?

The crow slowly flew to the windowsill, turned its back on Kevin, and gazed at the moon in silence.

Kevin, feeling he had said enough, unleashed his fighting spirit, his face growing serious. He was no stranger to killing, though he hoped it would not come to that.

The crow glanced back at Kevin, then turned to lift the window latch and gently push it open. A cold wind swept in as the crow stepped out, preparing to leave.

“Wait!” Kevin sheathed his fighting aura.

The crow paused, looking back at him.

Kevin put down his sword and forced a laugh. “Forget it. Maybe I really am drunk tonight. Ha ha ha!”

The crow said nothing.

Kevin said no more. He returned to his bed, slipped off his shoes, and said to the crow, “Close the window—it’s freezing in winter.”

The crow hesitated, but seeing Kevin close his eyes as if truly asleep, finally took the window handle in its beak, closed it properly, and flew back to the wardrobe. The rest of the night was quiet, but neither man nor bird found sleep.

Kevin ultimately gave up his interrogation. He suddenly realized that if this crow truly sought to overthrow humanity, keeping it nearby was better than letting it roam free. If it tried anything, he could watch it. There was time—he could probe and guide slowly. Kevin believed that no matter how smart this crow was, it could not surpass him, nor outmatch his experience.

A crow’s life rarely exceeded ten or twenty years. Though the age of this one was unknown, Kevin was twenty-five and had roamed the world for a decade—surely he could outplay a bird.

If he could guide it properly, such a formidable crow would be a powerful ally. And as things stood, even the champion parrot was no match for this bird; when hit with the wind blade a second time, the crow had chosen to take it head-on, having already seen through the trick. To remain inconspicuous, it feigned defeat, writhing on the ground. Such tactical cunning was impressive even among humans.