God-Tier Extraction Talent: Reincarnated in a Game-like World! Chapter 561: The Demonic Sect [2]

Gabriel’s grip on the scroll tightened subtly, yet his masked face remained impassive. The name should have resonated within his memory, but only a void answered, causing his brows to furrow slightly. He had witnessed a desolate future, heard whispers of clandestine families, lost empires, clandestine organizations, and monstrous beings cloaked in human guise. Despite this, he couldn’t recall any instance where a Demonic Sect was spoken of with dread or animosity.

"The Demonic Sect," Gabriel echoed, his voice a low murmur as he scrutinized the projection. "I have no recollection of them. Are you certain that was their designation?"

The alchemist’s gaze sharpened as if the inquiry had been an affront. His ethereal hands clasped behind his back, and the luminescence surrounding him flickered with a subtle disquiet.

"I am deceased, not senile," he retorted with palpable irritation. "That is what they called themselves, and those aware of them used the same name. It was not some rumor I overheard from timid servants."

Gabriel accepted the sharp reply without betraying any reaction. The crux of the issue lay not in the alchemist’s veracity, but in the potential devaluation of Gabriel’s own foreknowledge.

A flicker of unease ignited in his chest as he mentally reviewed his most significant recollections. If events were shifting this early on, his strategic advantage could erode unexpectedly, a prospect that was profoundly disquieting.

"Elucidate further," Gabriel commanded, momentarily setting aside his burgeoning concerns. "What was their involvement with this location?"

The spectral figure turned its gaze towards the sealed wall behind the table, its anger chilling into a colder hue.

"They sought the Core Suppressing Spike," the alchemist stated. "Their interest was not merely in the tomb, the inheritance, or the hidden materials. They were fixated on the spike itself."

The Core Suppressing Spike was not common knowledge. Even within Gabriel's own understanding, it was an artifact unlikely to be pursued by any nondescript faction.

"They were aware of it during your lifetime," Gabriel observed, his intention more to gauge the alchemist's knowledge than to pose a straightforward question. "This implies they were already in motion while you were alive."

The alchemist let out a short, bitter chuckle and met Gabriel’s gaze again. His shoulders rose infinitesimally, and his jaw tightened, as though the memories remained acutely painful despite the passage of time and his own demise.

"They were active," he confirmed. "Do not equate obscurity with inaction. They rarely revealed themselves openly, but each appearance heralded the covert removal of something of significance."

Gabriel’s frown deepened beneath the mask. If this sect existed in the past yet left no discernible trace in his future memories, only a limited number of explanations existed.

"If they were active then," Gabriel interjected, his tone even despite the troubling thoughts, "they are likely far more active in this current era."

The spectral projection regarded him intently following those words. Its anger remained undimmed, but a spark of interest rekindled in its eyes, as if Gabriel had arrived at a conclusion too swiftly.

"You speak as if you have experienced two lifetimes," the alchemist murmured. "Curious words, but I shall refrain from inquiry. I have already borne witness to stranger phenomena originating from you."

"What could be their objective?" Gabriel pressed, disregarding the alchemist’s musings. "A sect does not pursue an artifact like the spike without a compelling reason. What was their desired outcome?"

The alchemist paused before responding. His gaze drifted toward the table, and a translucent finger tapped the edge rhythmically, devoid of sound.

"I do not know," he admitted at length, the words seeming to leave a bitter taste. "Our encounters were fleeting, and I was not in a position to engage them in discussion regarding their strategic aims."

Gabriel's expression remained neutral, but his eyes grew noticeably colder. The alchemist's pride made his admission of ignorance more credible than a fabricated certainty.

"You contended with them," Gabriel stated. "How would you categorize their strength?"

The alchemist's visage contorted. Even as a spectral remnant, he conveyed residual shame through the set of his mouth and the rigid posture of his shoulders.

"I battled one of their lesser members. Not an Elder, not a leader, and certainly not one of the strategists. He was merely an individual affiliated with them."

Gabriel observed him, unblinking. The alchemist’s statement was direct, but the silence that followed conveyed more than any boastful proclamation could have.

"He forced me onto the defensive," the projection continued, its voice hushed. "I ultimately defeated him, but at a significant cost. If such an individual was typical among them, their true strength was not something to be underestimated."

Gabriel's mind raced. The fact that a mere member had managed to repel a Paragon, someone capable of concocting pills beyond the comprehension of modern alchemists, indicated that the sect posed a significant threat.

"Did they leave any clues behind? Any peculiar habits, unique marks, or methods that someone within this place might inadvertently reveal?"

The alchemist slowly and dejectedly shook his head. His gaze drifted towards the corridor outside the chamber, as if he still anticipated a figure appearing there at any moment.

"They were meticulous in concealing their tracks," he stated. "Their qi felt malevolent, though not in a manner readily discernible to most. Furthermore, they actively avoided prolonged engagements unless absolutely necessary."