Chapter 8: The Pale Moon

Wayne barely noticed when Monica's little paw left his side; instead, his attention was caught by a sudden white speck of light within him. Closing his eyes, he reached deep into the darkness of his inner world—and there, in the endless void, he found a single beam of radiance.

It was the full, radiant moon.

The moonlight flowed like water, its halo smooth as silk. The soft, gentle glow washed over everything in a comforting embrace. For a long, blissful moment, Wayne felt as though he were being cradled in the arms of a benevolent goddess—a pristine hand brushing his cheek, inviting him to set aside the endless darkness and drift off into eternal, peaceful slumber.

In that instant, his heart swelled with an uncomplicated certainty: the Moon Goddess, with her serene and unblemished visage, was the embodiment of true justice.

Yet as Wayne's gaze shifted back to the magical seed he sensed within himself, the warped Book of Greed seemed to stir. Its cover, once adorned by a large, all-seeing eye, now began to twist and shift. The eye spun erratically, and the scene that followed turned hazy—a thick, gray-white mist crept over the image.

The luminous brilliance of the full moon gave way to a pale, wan semblance—a grim, washed-out moon. The cheerful glow was replaced by a dismal filter, as if the world had been dipped in a layer of decaying ash. The once-smooth moon now looked pitted and cracked, marred by dense splatters of black and gray. Its forlorn appearance evoked decay and despair, instilling a growing sense of unease that bordered on madness.

Wayne gritted his teeth. "Damn it, Book—fix your filters. I want the Moon Goddess's true radiance back!"

Almost as if in response, the undulating skin of the Book of Greed pulsed rhythmically, as if breathing. Gradually, it expelled the gray and black, restoring the crisp blue glow. In a heartbeat, the moon's beauty re-emerged, pure and sanctified once again.

Yet despite the brief reprieve, Wayne's focus soon returned to the small, persistent changes the book had undergone. Next to the large eye, a slightly smaller one now stood open—a dull, gray-white orb devoid of life or spark. Wayne stared, perplexed. The pages remained unchanged in content, but something had shifted—a subtle difference that he couldn't quite pin down.

He exhaled slowly in relief when he recalled that Monica's magic seed was still active within him. The Book of Greed had never craved magic beyond that which its master provided, and so it hadn't tampered with the precious seed. That thought alone steadied Wayne—his own code, his own creation, was still intact, despite some unexpected new features.

Monica, ever the dutiful mentor, transferred a generous dose of magical energy into Wayne. The sudden rush left him feeling hollow and fatigued—a deep, bone-weary emptiness that compelled him to lie down. Yet before he could succumb to sleep, William seized the opportunity and swooped in, arms wide to claim him.

"Monica, up with you!" William barked, hoisting the cat high.

A resounding thud and a startled cry from William followed. In an instant, Veronica intervened with her impressive strength, wresting Monica from William's grip. The cat, dignified and composed despite the chaos, regarded Wayne with calm authority.

"Relax," Monica murmured softly to the still-shut-eyed Wayne. "Gather your magic gradually. There's no rush—you mustn't strain yourself. Trust in the seed I've planted; the Moon Goddess will guide you to your true power."

Wayne slowly reopened his eyes and nodded, determination mingling with fatigue. He sank once more into deep, meditative concentration as Monica began her gentle instruction. It was her first time guiding someone so intimately in the art of magical cultivation, and though no formal mentor-protégé relationship had yet been declared, her earnest effort shone through.

Meanwhile, Veronica cast a resentful glance at William before snapping an order. "Clean up the mess—lock these cultists away in crates. Knock them out if you must. We can't let a single Death Goddess devotee escape and alert the others. We'll contact our mentors through the message birds tomorrow and finish this once and for all."

William nodded, his expression grim. Despite their youthful appearances—still mere students at heart—they understood that dealing with the forces of death was a matter not to be taken lightly. They would capture the cultists, seal them away in a distant warehouse, and personally track down the elusive Death Walker to lift the curse that weighed on Wayne.

Veronica, ever focused, had no intention of leaving for Michael Nielsen's hometown in Cardfono that very night. Time was of the essence, but Monica needed rest to replenish her magic. They would set out at first light.

Outside, London lay beneath a thick shroud of fog and muted streetlights. The city fell into an eerie silence as the night deepened, and in its misty gloom, unseen eyes seemed to watch Wayne's every step. His heightened senses made him acutely aware of every lurking presence—a disquieting reminder that danger was never far away.

Noticing his discomfort, William grumbled from behind. "Wayne, back up a bit. You're making me nervous. Why don't you take the lead instead?"

Wayne stubbornly refused to budge, determined to stick close to William. At that moment, Veronica's cool voice broke through the tension. "Wayne, do you have a car?"

He hesitated before replying, "No, I don't own one. But I can arrange one—the faster, the more money you give, the quicker it can be sorted."

"Can you drive?" she asked briskly.

"Yeah, though I'm not exactly a pro," he admitted.

"Good," Veronica said curtly. Reaching into her wallet, she handed Wayne a neat bundle of bills adorned with the Queen's effigy, along with a list of supplies he was to have ready by 10 AM tomorrow.

"Will I be joining you?" Wayne ventured.

"You can if you wish," Veronica replied slowly, "but if you miss this chance, who knows when you'll get another opportunity to break your curse. Trust me, it might be your only shot."

The weight of her words left Wayne trembling with apprehension. He glanced over at William—who gave a resolute nod—and finally, with a heavy sigh, he accepted his fate.

Later that night, after returning to the detective agency in a taxi, Wayne devoured a meal that William had painstakingly prepared. Though the dinner was modest—primarily potatoes due to a shortage of other supplies—it was enough to satiate his hunger for the time being.

As they cleared the table, Veronica's impassive gaze fell upon them. "Move it along—get back to the office."

In the quiet that followed, Wayne resumed his magical practice. Monica, his unconventional teacher, sat atop the desk, diligently guiding him as though tutoring a diligent student. She extolled the virtues of the Moon Goddess, whose luminous blessings allowed travelers to navigate through even the thickest fog. Wayne, having once glimpsed the true visage of the Moon Goddess, found himself skeptical of Monica's endless praise. Yet, like a dutiful pupil, he listened, hoping to glean even a fraction of that power.

After a couple of hours, seeking to flatter his feline instructor, Wayne inquired which brand of fish treats Monica preferred. The cat's scowl was enough to silence him—and in its place, he noticed two small bell-like trinkets dangling nearby. A wry thought crossed his mind about procuring a diminutive, sassy female cat for Monica, but he quickly dismissed it.

Exhausted from the long night, Wayne resolved to stay up through the early morning hours. However, as dawn approached, a vivid nightmare seized him—a nightmare of endless feasts where he devoured plate after plate in a frenzy, his hunger so overwhelming that it bordered on self-destruction. In his dream, the chaotic image of William, flustered and scrambling to prepare potatoes, haunted him.

When he finally awoke, covering his face with a groggy hand, Wayne mused that while dreaming of hunger was understandable, dreaming of William as the culinary focus was truly bizarre. Yet, even in his bewilderment, the sounds from the kitchen warmed his heart. There was an old saying—while some may have ulterior motives, even the toughest souls have a soft spot. William, for all his rough edges, proved his kindness by preparing a meal at the break of dawn.

"Wayne, breakfast's ready! We've got to head out soon," William called, his voice echoing through the quiet halls.

"Coming," Wayne replied, a mixture of reluctance and resolve in his tone.

And so, as London's cold, foggy night slowly gave way to a pale morning light, Wayne, still burdened by his cursed hunger for magic, steeled himself for the day ahead. Surrounded by allies—each as conflicted and extraordinary as he—and with the promise of a Moon Goddess's guidance echoing in his ears, he prepared to face the uncertain future, one step closer to breaking his curse and unlocking the magic that lay dormant within him.