70 LOTM

Light suddenly faded from where Ince Zangwill disappeared, staining the area with the richest and deepest darkness.

In the darkness, the sounds of melodic chanting could be heard. It was quiet and tranquil, hypnotic even. Even the countless pale arms flailing upwards underneath the pitch-black water seemed to slow down, no longer as frenzied as before, as if they had won redemption for their souls.

In such a "dark night," a figure walked out. It was none other than Ince Zangwill who had just been dragged into the spirit world.

Compared to before, he had lost the bonnet on his head. The clothes on his left shoulder were tattered, and a piece of flesh had been torn off. Faint yellow pus bubbled out one after another.

His eyes were no longer indifferent, but filled with pain, as if he was suffering some unimaginable torment.

The 0-08 quill continued writing.

"Some might feel regret, while others might rejoice. Ince Zangwill had the umbilical cord of the evil god which came from the baby in Megose's womb. It was from the True Creator, and through the umbilical cord, he successfully escaped from the restraints of the unknown existence and forcefully returned to the real world, but as a result, he had lost that mystical item. In addition, he would suffer the ire of the evil god's spawn from having failed to descend for a short period of time.

"This made his strength appear like some kind of commodity in a department store during a change of seasons, with only 55% left. Yes, this number is extremely accurate."

...

In a street in the depths of East Borough. @@novelbin@@

Old Kohler hurried back to his rented apartment, carrying some ham in a paper bag.

He looked around warily, afraid that those ravenous wolves around him would pounce on him and steal his New Year's gift.

He had seen wolves back when he was still in the countryside, but to his surprise, he was able to experience that familiar feeling in Backlund.

It's still too expensive. I can only split the cost with someone else and cut it into pieces... This is enough for the new year holiday. I can eat two slices of ham for every meal. Three slices, no—at least five slices of ham. I can cut some of them off and stew them together with the potatoes. I don't even need to add salt... With this in mind, Old Kohler looked at the ham in his arms, seeing the white spots mixed in with the red meat, his throat couldn't help but twitch and he swallowed a mouthful of saliva.

As he walked, he felt the fog around him grow thicker. The cathedral's clock tower that was still relatively clear in the distance was gradually swallowed by a mixture of iron-black and pale yellow colors. Even the pedestrians around him were reduced to blurry shadows once they were ten steps away.

Old Kohler suddenly felt like he has been forgotten by the world as he raised his palm to cover his nose.

"Why does the fog smell so bad today?" he muttered, and he quickened his pace.

One step, two steps, three steps. Old Kohler felt his face heat up and his forehead start to burn.

His chest tightened, his throat felt uncomfortable, and soon he was experiencing difficulty breathing.

Have I fallen ill? Damn it, I still want to have a good new year's, and now I can only send my savings to the clinic or hospital... No, perhaps I'll be fine with some sleep. I'll be fine sleeping with a blanket over me! Old Kohler silently muttered to himself as his head grew hotter and hotter and his senses became more and more muddled.

Gasp. Gasp. Gasp. He heard his own labored breathing, and his hands went limp as the bag of ham fell heavily to the ground.

Old Kohler instinctively bent down to pick it up, but he ended up falling to the ground.

He held the bag of ham and tried to keep it in his arms.

At this moment, he thought there was thick phlegm rushing up his throat, blocking it, so he fought back, making panting sounds.

Thud! Old Kohler began to see, through his blurry vision, that a few steps away, someone else had also fallen and was gasping for breath. He was about the same age as him, in his fifties, with white sideburns.

Suddenly, he understood that he was about to die.

It reminded him of his own wife and children, who, like him, suddenly got infected with the plague and died shortly after.

It reminded him of the time when he had been hospitalized. The patients in the same room were still chatting and laughing that night, but they would be sent to the morgue early the next morning.

It reminded him of the friends he had known as a tramp, many of which had disappeared over the course of the winter until they were found stiff under a bridge or some spot which was sheltered from the wind. A small number died from suddenly having food.

This reminded him of the days when he was still a decent worker, when the neighbors in the neighborhood would suddenly die like this. Some of them died from headaches, some of them died from accidentally falling into molten steel, some of them died from all sorts of painful, bloating ailments. Some of them even collapsed silently in the factories, one batch after another.

This reminded him of what he had heard from a drunk in the bar when he was scrounging for information.

"People like us are like straw on the ground, falling when the wind blows. It's even possible to fall on our own even without the wind."

The wind is coming... Old Kohler suddenly had such a thought.

He clutched the bag of ham tightly as he groped the pocket of his old jacket for the crumpled cigarette he had always been unwilling to smoke.

What he couldn't understand was why his healthy body would suddenly become ill. It wasn't like he had never experienced such a dense fog before.

What he couldn't understand was the reason for him suddenly collapsing just as his life was back on track, moving in a direction that was sufficiently nice for him. Furthermore, he had been paid in advance by Detective Moriarty to buy his long-awaited ham for the new year, and he was looking forward to tasting it.

Old Kohler fished out that crumpled cigarette, but he no longer had the strength to lift his arms again as they slammed heavily to the ground.

He used the last of his strength to shout out the words that had been building up inside of him, but he could only let the frail words linger at his mouth without producing them.

He heard his last words.

He heard himself ask, "Why?"

...

In an apartment at the edge of East Borough.

Liv hung up the last piece of clothing she had washed and waited for it to dry.

She looked at the sky outside, somewhat unsure of the time due to the thick fog which had appeared without her realizing it.

"Anyway, it's still early, and we've already done the laundry..." Liv's expression grew heavy.

It wasn't a good thing to finish work too early. This meant that they could rest, but it also meant that they didn't have enough work which would imply inadequate income.

Liv took a deep breath, turned around, and looked at her eldest daughter, Freja, who was wiping her hands and casting her gaze towards the vocabulary notebook in the opposite room.

"It's almost New Year's. Most of our clients have left Backlund and have gone on vacation elsewhere. We can't go on like this. We have to find new work."

As she spoke, she walked towards the door.

"During this period, the rich will host banquets one after another. They definitely won't have enough servants and might hire temporary kitchen cleaners. I plan on inquiring. Freja, you stay at home and pick up Daisy when the time comes. We need income, but so do the thieves, bandits, and human traffickers of those prostitutes to welcome the new year."

In the East Borough, every woman, who didn't work in the factories, had to be skilled or aggressive enough in order to survive.

Freja answered briskly, "Alright."

Her mind was already on the desk and vocabulary notebook next door.

Liv had just opened the door when she stumbled and fell to the floor.

Cough! Cough! Cough! She broke into a violent coughing fit as her face flushed red, with every joint in her body experiencing an unbearable ache.

Freja ran over in panic and squatted beside her.

"Mother, what's wrong with you? Mother, what's wrong with you?"

"It's nothing. Cough, I'm fine." Liv began to find it harder to breathe.

"No, you're sick—sick! I'll take you to the hospital immediately!" Freja tried to help her mother up.

"It's too expensive, too... expensive. Cough—Let's go to a charity hospital. A charity hospital, I can wait. It's n-not a big problem." Liv gasped a response.

Freja burst into tears and her vision blurred rapidly.

But at that moment, she felt her lungs burn, and her body went limp as she fell to the ground with Liv.

"What's the matter with you, Freja? Cough! You're sick too?" Liv shouted anxiously. "There's money, cough—in the closet, cough—in the hole in the wall. You have to be quick. Go to the hospital! Get a good—a good doctor!"

Freja tried to say something, but not a sound came out from her mouth. Her eyes slanted up to the door beside her.

It was their bedroom, their bunk beds. On top of it was her favorite table and her vocabulary notebook.

Her body suddenly began to twitch.

Liv's coughing stopped.

Within the public elementary school at the edge of East Borough, the fog still wasn't thick yet, but many students had already started to cough.

The experienced teacher on duty immediately ordered, "Quick, to the cathedral. We need to head for the cathedral next door!"

Daisy stood up in a panic and ran with the crowd to the cathedral next to the school.

Suddenly, her heart palpitated as she felt the horror of losing something important.

... Mother... Freja. Daisy turned her head sharply, wanting to rush home against the crowd.

However, she was stopped. She was caught by her teachers and forcibly dragged towards the cathedral.

Daisy struggled and screamed at the top of her lungs, "Mother! Freja!

"Mother! Freja!"

...

In East Borough, the dock area, and the factory district, the old or those with latent ailments collapsed in the fog in succession like felled trees, while those who came into contact with them felt as if they had been infected by the plague. They died quickly, and even the able-bodied adults and children also felt slightly unwell.

In their eyes, the light yellow and iron-black fog was like the descent of Death.

On the Tuesday of the last week in 1349, Backlund was shrouded in haze.

...

In the corner of the hall, Klein pressed himself against the stone wall so that he wouldn't be discovered by Mr. A.

Soon, he heard muffled groans and could smell the scent of flesh and blood.

"Give up your lives for the Lord," Mr. A's voice suddenly sounded.

Thud. Thud. The sound of figures collapsing entered Klein's ears, and a strong spirituality fluctuation appeared and constantly reverberated.

Mr. A sacrificed his four attendants? Just as this thought appeared in Klein's mind, illusory layers of weeping sounds could be heard. Some of them were calling out for their mothers, others coughing violently, and some moaning in pain.

As half of an expert at mysticism, Klein seemed to see a series of disgruntled and transparent figures entering the ritual one after another, followed by the years of numbness, despair, pain, and resentment from the dock area, factory district, and East Borough.

Has it officially begun? Klein closed his eyes and leaned his back against the wall, his right hand clenching and relaxing.

For him, the best thing to do at this moment was to slip out of the hall and flee into the distance while Mr. A was concentrating on the ritual.

His right hand loosened and tightened before relaxing many times in a row.

Seven or eight seconds later, Klein opened his eyes, the corners of his mouth curling upwards in an exaggerated manner.

He reached out his hand to grab the revolver, turned around abruptly, and dashed out.

Dressed in his black double-breasted frock coat, he raised his right hand and aimed at the altar.

-x-X-x-

The first thing Klein saw was the altar, which was surrounded by layers of light, and the tall, thin figure standing in it.

The figure took off its hood, revealing a beautiful, devilishly feminine face, with a left chest, shoulders, abdomen, and thighs all covered in squirming, sticky, disgusting flesh and blood.

His surroundings were filled with illusory, transparent shadows that brimmed with feelings such as numbness, despair, pain, and depression.

Beyond the altar, the four figures which were praying had fallen. Their skin was shriveled, and their bones were tightly wrapped, like corpses that had been eroded for many years.

At the top of the hall, rays of light pierced through the air, quickly entering the altar through the stone pillars, floor, and air that were filled with symbols and magic labels.

As soon as Klein emerged from his hiding place, Mr. A opened his eyes and looked in his direction.

His pupils were dyed with blood, and an extreme madness was contained within his cold eyes.

If it were any other Beyonder, they would've subconsciously looked away, not daring to look him in the eye. But Klein, who had faced the Eternal Blazing Sun and met Blasphemer Amon, wasn't afraid of this. Calmly pulling the trigger, he sent a silver demon-hunting bullet engraved with many patterns flying towards the altar.

Witnessing this scene, Mr. A subconsciously wanted to raise his hand, but he stopped in the end. He watched indifferently as the silver bullet drilled into the layer of light surrounding the altar.

Silently, the patterned demon-hunting bullet melted and disappeared under the layers of radiance, engulfed in untold resentment and negative emotions.

In the end, it completely disintegrated, leaving not a single trace of it behind.

Klein's pupils shrank as he shot the rest of the revolver's bullets. The pale golden purifying bullets and the bronze exorcism bullets shot out, piercing through the radiant barrier one after another.

However, they disintegrated in the same way and disappeared without creating the slightest ripple.

Mr. A laughed hoarsely.

"It's no use, puny worm. The ritual has already officially begun, and with your strength, it cannot be broken or interrupted. Even if you're a Sequence 5 Beyonder!

"But you're also fortunate. You will live to witness the coming of our Lord, and be integrated into his body."

With that, Mr. A. ignored Klein and closed his eyes again, as if he was indeed nothing but a puny worm.

The Shepherd raised his hands in a gesture of open arms and shouted out in ancient Hermes, "The Lord that created everything;

"The Lord who reigns behind the curtain of shadows;

"The degenerate nature of all living things.

"Your devout believers pray for your coming;

"I am willing to offer my body as a vessel to bear the burden of your great will!"

Amidst the prayers, a light from an unknown source appeared above Mr. A's head, completely enveloping him.

The grievances and negative emotions that were gathered around Mr. A surged into his body like a tidal wave.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Klein snapped his fingers repeatedly and used Flame Controlling, trying his best to attack the altar, but they still couldn't resist being disintegrated against the barrier of light.

What can I do? All my other mystical items are above the gray fog. To take them out, I need to hold a ritual, which would waste at least a minute or two, and a body without protection would be very dangerous... What should I do? Klein rationally stopped his attempts and stood there, his mind racing.

Furthermore, whether it was the Sun Brooch, the Biological Poison Bottle, the All-Black Eye, or the Dark Emperor card that raised his level, none of them seemed capable of breaking through the altar's barrier!

Is waiting for Miss Justice's call for reinforcements the only thing I can do? Or do I just watch helplessly as the True Creator descends? Klein tensed up, his thoughts rapidly flying through his mind. He quickly considered the corresponding strategies.

As he considered each and every item on his body, his palms unconsciously broke out in cold sweat.

Suddenly, he thought of something!

Without having time to think about the consequences, he reached into his pocket and grabbed something that felt metallic.

Tap! Tap! Tap!

Klein took a few steps forward, jerked his arm hard, and threw the object in his palm at the altar.

With a flash of bronze, the object entered the barrier of light.

It was an ancient, simple key.

It was the Master Key.

Within the barrier of light, the brass Master Key began to decompose and melt.

And when its outer shell disappeared, the curse that was hidden within it appeared, connecting to the unknown area where Mr. Door was.

...

In Empress Borough, the opulent villa of Earl Hall.

Audrey stood by the full-length window and worriedly looked into the distance.

She saw that the fog on the horizon was gradually thickening, turning a pale yellow that was dyed iron-black as it slowly spread in her location.

"There's something wrong with that." The huge golden retriever, Susie, sat beside her and also looked at the commonly seen haze.

Yes, I hope it can be stopped in time... Audrey didn't know what the fog represented. She silently prayed to the Goddess and Mr. Fool that "They" wouldn't let the Primordial Demoness descend.

Suddenly, she noticed that the branches outside the window were beginning to shake and the glass was slightly rattling.

A wind is coming... Audrey felt inexplicably happy.

Cherwood Borough, Holy Wind Cathedral.

Terrifying storms that were visible to the naked eye suddenly appeared outside of it, and then they surged towards the east in an unimaginable hurricane.

Whoosh!

The thick, accumulated fog was blown away, and the rich yellow and iron-black colors quickly faded away.

Whoosh!

Dried branches fell to the ground as dust and dirt rose into the air, following the fog into the distance.

Whoosh!

Many of the pedestrians had their hats separate from their heads, and their bodies swayed so much that they had to hold onto trees or walls.

The sailors in the dock area felt as though they had returned to the port city and were witnessing a typhoon.

The smoke in East Borough and the factory district thinned, and the healthy population felt relieved of their slight discomfort.

Boom! Boom!

Lightning leaped and thunder rumbled.

They soon subsided, and a downpour began to cleanse the land.

"The Church of the Lord of Storms reacted rather quickly this time... It also has to do with us bringing the operation forward and not being fully prepared... Heh heh, those in the middle-class and the tycoons would've shared the same fate in this Great Smog as the commoners if it wasn't for the respective protection they received. They would all be lambs waiting to be slaughtered..." Lady Despair sat on a rental carriage as she leisurely heard the pattering of the rain on the glass windows.

Even though her plans had been ruined in a timely manner, the haze from before had caused more than 20,000 deaths according to her calculations. Furthermore, there would be the subsequent spread of the plague.

With this, I've pretty much digested most of my potion, but this is just a benefit I received as a matter of convenience... With large numbers of the population being wiped out, all this points to the Aurora Order and to the True Creator; no one could guess what the royal family really plans on doing... It's time I leave, along with the True Creator... Lady Despair thought while in a good mood.

Her whereabouts were kept secretive, and she had taken care of everything beforehand; therefore, she didn't have to worry about being surrounded by Backlund's demigods at all.

By the time they found traces of her, she would already be far away from the city!

Just as the Lady Despair was about to leave the carriage, her vision blurred and she saw a figure appear before her.

The figure sat across her. It was a young woman in a hooded classical robe, with black eyes and hair, and a beautiful but dull face.

...

After throwing out the Master Key, Klein held Azik's copper whistle, then he held his breath and waited for the results.

If things failed to develop as he imagined, with the altar's barrier remaining intact, he planned on using Azik's copper whistle to see if he could get any help from the messenger.

If that still failed, he would go above the gray fog and use all the items like the Dark Emperor card. He had to attempt every possibility until the very last second!

At this very moment, there was no crimson moon, let alone a clear full moon since it was afternoon. Therefore, Klein didn't have enough confidence in the curse contained within the Master Key, and he only hoped that the disintegration effects of the altar's barrier would threaten its very existence and cause it to react instinctively, such as communicating with Mr. Door in reverse and transmitting its cry for help to "Him."

In just a second or two, Klein saw the Master Key disintegrate into the smallest particles of light and an illusory, distorted crimson. @@novelbin@@

The crimson quickly faded as it struggled and then suddenly exploded!

In an instant, Klein lost his sense of hearing. He saw the countless figures formed from resentment and indignation all raise their heads and scream.

They rapidly transformed, tinged with a blackish-green, and grew a second skull, a third eye, or even a fifth leg...

They converged into a torrent and surged into Mr. A's body.

Mr. A suddenly opened his eyes, shock and disbelief evident amidst his indifferent blood-red eyes.

Soon after, the radiant layer of light surrounding the altar warped and collapsed.

Boom!

A huge explosion spread out from the center of the altar, setting off a terrifying storm.

Crack! The four thick stone pillars closest to the blast instantly crumbled, and the distant Klein only had enough time to duck and roll before he was sent flying by the shockwave.

Bam!

He hit the wall, flattened into a thin sheet of paper.

The subsequent wind quickly tore apart that thin piece of paper, scattering it in every direction.

Klein himself appeared in the corner, using the walls to withstand the ensuing shockwave.

The destruction caused by the Master Key exceeded his imagination!

The curse that had been forcibly melted away really did have an instinctive reaction, as it transmitted Mr. Door's roar, and the voice of this forsaken entity, who was at least at the level of an angel, contaminated the resentment and numbed the despair needed for the ritual. As a result, the altar lost its balance and embarked on a path of self-destruction!

The moment the blast calmed down a little, Klein rushed out to confirm the results.

The illusionary figure and oppressive feeling in the air had already vanished, leaving behind scattered remnants of the altar.

Mr. A had his body leaning forward as he knelt by a collapsed pillar. He was missing an arm, half a face, and a number of organs. His remaining eye was filled with bone-deep hatred.

However, his wounds were quickly covered with squirming flesh.

After that single glance, Klein didn't hesitate to run.

For him, he had achieved the ultimate goal of foiling the True Creator's descent. If he didn't leave now, was he, a Sequence 6, going to share a dinner with the Shepherd, Mr. A, to welcome the new year?

-x-X-x-

The moment she saw the stranger appear in front of her, Lady Despair materialized a sharp, crystalline ice spear and threw it at her target.

Using the force of the recoil, she attempted to break through the back of the carriage and into the street.

With regards to this sudden turn of events, she was puzzled at this strange enemy who suddenly appeared. On the contrary, she was very confused and perplexed as to how someone could find her concealed self so quickly. It was no less difficult than destroying a large city, or teleporting directly from Backlund to the Southern Continent of East Balam.

But as a Sequence 4 Demoness of Despair, she had developed herself one step at a time from when she was an Assassin. She knew that she couldn't afford to be distracted or spout nonsense at such critical moments. It wasn't too late to think about all these matters later.

Therefore, she chose to attack directly and wanted to take the opportunity to leave.

She could already imagine how the strange woman with black hair and eyes would be frozen in the layers of sparkling light left in the frosty wake of the ice spear's trajectory. She would have to struggle to break through the obstruction in order to have the strength to chase after her.

By then, she definitely would've escaped from the street and blended into the crowd.

However, the scene she was looking forward to didn't appear. As soon as the crystalline ice spear left her hand, it silently disappeared into thin air, its whereabouts were completely unknown.

Angel! The Demoness of Despair's eyes narrowed as black flames suddenly surged from her body, spreading ailments in a bid to ignite everything around her and causing a large-scale fire.

At that moment, her body trembled in a strange manner, and she froze on the spot.

She saw her left hand disappear, one centimeter at a time, as it rapidly spread upward in an unstoppable fashion.

In her eyes, the beautiful and lifeless eyes of the woman opposite her were dark and serene, as if there was a pure darkness concealed within.

"You aren't! You are..."

The Demoness of Despair's words came to an abrupt halt. Her entire body was like a sketch that had been quietly erased with an eraser, leaving no trace behind.

Her final gaze was filled with fear and despair. The seat she previously occupied was empty, as though she had never sat in it before.

The beautiful woman with the lifeless expression pulled the hood of her classical robe, and her lips moved almost imperceptibly as her figure instantly disappeared.

...

On the outskirts of Empress Borough. On a trackless public carriage.

Triss was sitting quietly in the corner, wearing a veiled hat.

She didn't flee with the help of the river by going straight to the Tussock River, nor did she head for the nearest railroad to catch a train, as everyone thought she would.

Her choice was to return to Backlund.

Only in this city with a population of over five million, with all sorts of hidden factions and numerous Beyonders, would they be able to help her escape the subsequent pursuit of the Demoness Sect!

At this moment, she felt tense, mentally, constantly wary of the terrifying old butler, Funkel.

Suddenly, her head spun.

When her vision returned to normal, she found herself having magically left the public carriage and was standing on the muddy road outside.

Trissy's pupils contracted rapidly as she looked around cautiously.

Then, she saw a black-hooded figure in a classical robe, and she noticed the black eyes hidden in the shadows.

For some reason, it was as if Trissy had returned to being an infant, so weak to the point that she couldn't put up any resistance at all.

Cold sweat dripped from her forehead, and although her legs were trembling violently, she was unable to move.

This is the scariest enemy I've ever faced... Even the high-ranking Demoness I previously met didn't give me such a feeling... Am I going to die here... Is this finally going to end after I persisted in escaping despite failing so many times... A deep sense of despair and uncontrollable sadness filled Trissy's heart, making her feel as if she had plunged into her deepest nightmare.

Suddenly, a dim blue light flashed before her eyes, removing her "curse" of being unable to move.

Trissy looked forward again, but there was no longer any traces of that extremely terrifying figure. Everything that happened just now seemed like the most realistic illusion.

But when Trissy lowered her head, she was surprised to find that the sapphire ring on her left pinky had somehow shattered, losing all of its brilliance.

Crack. Crack. Crack. The remains of the ring and the gem fell off one after another.

...

Klein dodged and rolled around the collapsed stone pillar and the heavily injured Mr. A, who was in the process of healing, and he ran for the entrance opposite him.

As for the characteristic fragments which were slowly gathering from the remains of the Master Key, he didn't even take a glance at them, afraid that he would give Mr. A enough time to stop him.

He was well aware that even if he had all his mystical items and was well-prepared, he wouldn't necessarily be a match for the Shepherd, not to mention the fact that he was only equipped with Azik's copper whistle and three types of Beyonder bullets. He didn't even have a single match left.

Even though Mr. A was seriously injured, Klein didn't dare to take the risk. He had heard that the Rose Bishop, the Sequence prior to Shepherd, was extremely proficient in flesh magic. Its healing ability was in no way weaker to his ability of transferring his wounds.

Creak!

He pulled open the heavy door.

The natural light outside shone in, and the clouds in the sky were tinged with a thin yellow, and the sun was pale and dim.

Klein rushed out and found that he was in the middle of a mountain. He was surrounded by towering mountains that made the area extremely hidden.

Tap. Tap. Tap. He frantically ran and wasn't even taking the mountain trail. Instead, with his skills as a Clown, he ran down the steep slope, occasionally tumbling, and occasionally swinging up with the help of trees.

Splash!

He heard the crashing of the river. It was up ahead, just below him!

But at that moment, a strong gust of wind blew over, sweeping towards his back.

Klein made a prompt decision. His knees buckled and he rolled to the side.

Sou! Sou! Sou!

The location where he was originally standing and the direction he was moving in had a deep ravine carved out by the wind blades.

Mr. A dropped out of the wind, his body still draped with a cape squirming with fresh blood.

He pointed with his finger, and immediately, chunks of flesh flew out and swelled up in midair before suddenly exploding.

Boom!

Drops of blood and bits of flesh flew in every direction as Klein cartwheeled with his hands, dodging most of it before finding shelter behind a huge tree.

The projectiles bored bloody holes through the huge tree. Traces of corrosion began spreading in every direction from the affected area.

Back when Klein was running, he had already loaded his revolver. He was about to raise his hand and shoot Mr. A in the eyes when he saw a deep darkness appear within them.

All of a sudden, Klein knew that, although the scenery around him hadn't changed at all, he had been forcefully dragged into a dream.

He had once killed a Nightmare, a Nightmare at least... Klein maintained his consciousness and saw Mr. A phase to his side in a manner inconsistent with logic, turning into a blood-red blanket that enveloped him in a manner that couldn't be escaped from.

You want to rely on nightmares to scare me to the point of stopping my heart? A thought flashed in Klein's mind and he responded.

This was his dream. The lucid him could conjure anything!

Thus, a pure and dazzling golden sun appeared. Clear and blazing flames ignited everything in its surroundings in an instant.

Klein imagined the scene when he first saw the Eternal Blazing Sun during the dream divination!

Almost at the same time, he left the dream and heard a muffled grunt.

Mr. A took a step back, two streams of blood running from the tip of his nose.

The robe formed from flesh and blood began to slowly flow as though it was melting.

Pa!

Klein snapped his fingers and ignited the trees about thirty or forty meters away.

Beneath his feet, the long-withered weeds caught on fire, and the soaring flames enveloped his body.

Mr. A's originally unmanly beautiful face suddenly turned even more beautiful and feminine. A crystalline and weightless ice spear materialized in his hand as he threw it towards the burning trees a few dozen meters away.

As soon as Klein jumped out of the flames, his pupils reflected the transparent tip of the spear.

The tip of the spear became bigger and clearer, filling his eyes.

Klein threw himself to the side as his body became covered with a thin layer of frost.

The transparent spear then extinguished the flames, allowing the thick layer of ice to quickly spread in every direction.

Klein, who was still in midair, suddenly curled up into a ball, turning his body upside down.

He stretched out his left hand and lightly pressed on the layer of ice. He once again rose into the air and left the cold world. However, the skin on his palm was frozen at the point of contact; this resulted in him tearing off his skin with a ripping sound.

Rolling to his feet, Klein reached into his pocket and pulled out a self-made Slumber Charm.

As he was about to say the incantation, his nose suddenly started to itch and he sneezed.

Achoo! Achoo! Achoo!

His head ached and he kept sneezing, leaving him with no strength to fight back. @@novelbin@@

I fell sick? I became infected by some sort of ailment? The moment Klein realized this, he felt countless threads that were difficult to be seen by the naked eye twirl around him, wrapping him up like a mummy in a certain sense.

He wasn't unfamiliar with this kind of experience. He knew that this was the Beyonder powers of a Demoness of Pleasure.

Back then, he had relied on the use of charms to cause all parties to fall into a deep slumber. Then, relying on his uniqueness, he escaped the effects of the charm. But now, Mr. A had maintained a distance of about 20 meters.

However, Klein was no longer just a Clown. The fingers he could still move snapped and made a crisp snapping sound!

In an instant, all the "spider silk" around him was ignited, as if it had turned into a giant torch.

Klein had just jumped out of the scarlet flames when he started sneezing again, which was then followed by a fit of violent coughing. This automatically prevented the use of many of his Beyonder powers.

At this moment, the feminine gentleness of Mr. A's face disappeared, adding a little more dignity to his loftiness.

He stretched out his right hand and clenched it lightly. Klein suddenly had an inkling that if he ran, he would only be running in circles.

Mr. A, who was wearing a blood-red robe, revealed a cruel smile. An ancient book that was transparent and illusory appeared in front of him.

An ethereal, high-pitched voice rang out, "I came, I saw, I record."

Achoo! Cough! Cough!

Klein wanted to hide, but he was powerless. At that moment, he experienced, in an unprecedented manner, the power of a Shepherd. It was truly worthy of being called the most comprehensive, most flawless, and most powerful Beyonder Sequence under the level of a demigod! Even if he hadn't made any preparations, with many mystical items being unusable, for him to be suppressed to such a state without being able to fight back, it implied that there were many problems.

-x-X-x-

The old butler, Funkel, was fleeing across a barren field in the wilderness.

He had lost his hat, his neatly combed gray hair hung in an unkempt manner, and the outer layer of his clothes were muddy.

Huff. Puff... He paused for a moment, panting as he looked behind him. He felt slightly more at ease when he realized that there was no one around.

However, when he turned his head and was about to change direction, he discovered that a figure had appeared in front of him.

The figure wore a hooded, classical robe; its face was dull and expressionless while its black eyes were hidden in the shadows.

Funkel's pupils constricted. He opened his mouth and tried to say a word in ancient Hermes, but he was surprised to find his nose disappearing and his voice gone.

A look of despair suddenly appeared on his face. Then, like a stain in the void, his entire body was seemingly wiped clean with a cloth, and not a single trace was left behind.

...

Achoo! Achoo! Cough! Cough!

In the face of Mr. A's looming attack that spelled certain death, Klein was infected by an illness. His headache and fever made it difficult to use Flame Controlling or Flaming Jump.

At that moment, he couldn't even produce Air Bullets.

Fear of the unknown took over his mind. The Clown's intuition for danger "saw" himself split into the smallest particles of light, perhaps taking away any chance of him reviving.

In an instant, Klein reached into his pocket and took hold of an object.

This was his answer to the most dangerous situation he could think of ahead of time!

No matter what kind of situation he was suddenly placed in, a Magician had to be prepared to a certain extent, so that he wouldn't panic in the middle of a battle.

Klein took out Azik's copper whistle, brought it to his mouth, and blew hard over the sneezing and coughing!

Without any stirring motions, he saw, through his Spirit Vision, a geyser of white bones spewing out as they rapidly sketched out the appearance of a huge messenger with black flames burning in its eye sockets.

And at that moment, the pages in the book in front of Mr. A stopped flipping, and the distant voice suddenly came to a halt.

A misty green brilliance surged out, and the bone messenger, that was almost four meters tall, cracked and crumbled into countless specks of pure light.

Behind it, the force that had caused Klein to go in circles was the first to crumble. The figure in the black double-breasted frock coat was then enveloped, turning into a statue made of yellow sand which was blown away by the wind.

However, the scattered sand were white spots, as if they were shreds of paper that had been torn to the limit.

Klein's figure appeared on the other end, genuflecting and coughing uncontrollably.

If it wasn't for the skeleton messenger blocking the blow for him, then he wouldn't have been able to suppress his ailments and use Paper Figurine Substitute!

And after that ordeal, his illness worsened to the point of him losing almost all forms of resistance.

At that moment, Mr. A, who had failed in his fatal blow, suddenly coughed in a way more violent manner than Klein.

He fell to the ground in pain, blood frothing at the corners of his mouth.

Cough! Cough! Cough!

He coughed out a pile of fragmented organs and squirming flesh. Then, with great difficulty, he opened his mouth and attempted to lick them back into his mouth to forcefully consume them.

What's going on? Klein was stunned for a moment.

But that didn't stop him from resisting a cough, raising his right hand, and aiming the revolver at Mr. A's head.

At this moment, he vaguely understood something—while Mr. A's injuries could be treated with his flesh and blood magic, the impact and backlash on his mind and spirituality couldn't be nullified through this method.

Mr. A should've switched to another Beyonder power to slowly heal the damage to his Spirit Body, but he was driven by hatred. He forcefully suppressed his injuries and chased after Klein; thus, after continuously using the Beyonder powers that exceeded what his body could bear, his situation worsened and the latent problems flared up.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Klein fired all the bullets in the revolver. Bronze, pale gold, and silver beams of light quickly crossed the short distance between the two of them.

Unfortunately, he was unable to control his sneezing and coughing during the process. The bullets didn't all hit Mr. A, with only two of them hitting Mr. A, and one of them drilling through his forehead and the other into his torso. @@novelbin@@

Sizzle!

A sizzling sound rang out, but Mr. A's head seemed to be boneless—it was just a combination of a pile of rotten flesh. This caused the pale golden-colored bullet to sink deep into his body. It quickly came to a stop and failed to deal lethal damage. All it did was emit a golden radiance of sunshine.

Mr. A lifted his neck, and the flesh around the hole in his head writhed wildly.

He wasn't dead, not even seriously injured.

He was once the tenacious Rose Bishop!

Seeing this, Klein made up his mind. He turned around and ran, no longer making any attempts to attack. As for Mr. A, he was panting, and when he lowered his head again, he licked the bits of fragmented flesh and organs he had coughed up.

Amidst the wheezing and coughing, Klein ran in random directions, occasionally rolling.

Finally, he fled to the edge of a cliff which was over fifty meters away.

Beneath the cliff, the slightly turbid Tussock River surged incessantly. It was wide but calm.

Klein didn't hesitate and put strength into his legs and jumped.

He plummeted, feeling the weightlessness of a free fall.

His body tore through the air as he attempted to adjust his posture in midair, transforming into a standard diving motion.

Cough! Achoo!

His ailment stopped his three and a half flips midway, and the positioning of his body and palms failed to be in the correct stance.

With a splashing sound, he struck the water surface, reducing into a thin piece of white paper.

The paper figurine quickly became moist, half sinking and half floating.

At the bottom of the river not far away, Klein's figure formed as it shivered a little.

His clothes were already soaked, as were the remaining paper and bills in his wallet.

After distancing myself from Mr. A, the ailment has abated... Klein thought with a lingering sense of fear.

If his coughing and sneezing hadn't subsided at the last minute, he wouldn't have even had the time to use Paper Figurine Substitutes, and he would've suffered internal bleeding and instantly died. Of course, if he died in such a manner, he felt that he had a chance of being resurrected.

While kicking his legs to keep himself afloat, Klein created an invisible, hollow tube in his mouth, allowing it to rise out of the water and bring him fresh air.

This was the Underwater Breathing performance of a Magician!

Klein sucked in with his mouth and blew out through his nose, not letting the turbid gas he breathed out pollute the pipe by directly entering the water.

At the same time, he stealthily made his way to the shore, hoping to avoid Mr. A's subsequent pursuit.

Unfortunately, this isn't a city. The powers of a Faceless cannot be used effectively. Otherwise, once I break away, Mr A definitely wouldn't be able to find me... While swimming, Klein instinctively had this thought.

This resulted in him thinking of a problem, and that was the wind-controlling Beyonder power Mr. A previously had.

Generally speaking, this belongs to the pathway of the Lord of the Storms... For this pathway, apart from the wind, there's also water, which means they're especially effective for underwater activities... Underwater activities... Shepherd is so all-rounded and terrifying! Klein's heart almost stopped beating as the thought flashed through his mind.

He suddenly swam upstream, no longer concealing himself!

As soon as he emerged from the water and approached the shore, he saw Mr. A's devilishly beautiful face, covered with fish scales and gaping gills.

Mr. A, who was floating on the water surface in his bright red robe, had the corners of his mouth curled up. His eyes were filled with true hatred.

Fight! I can only fight! I'll try to hold out until the Church's reinforcements arrive or for Mr. Azik to escape his predicament! Without hesitation, Klein, who had gained reprieve from his ailments, raised his right hand, ready to snap his fingers.

At this moment, the two of them simultaneously looked at the sky as though it was an instinctive reaction.

A beautiful feminine figure was quickly outlined.

The figure was hooded and in a dark robe, its eyes looking blankly at Mr. A.

Then, Klein saw Mr. A being quickly erased as though he had become a pencil drawing, wiped out rapidly with an eraser, leaving nothing but his look of indignation and despair amidst the blankness and madness etched into his mind that was the only audience present.

This... What kind of level is this!? What kind of strength is this! The moment Klein thought about it, he saw the figure turn to look at him.

It was a beautiful face, but it didn't have the slightest expression. Its black eyes were deep and dark, devoid of spirituality.

Just when Klein's heart was beating rapidly, thinking that he would disappear without a trace, without a clue as to whether he could be resurrected, the corners of the woman's mouth slowly lifted into a smile.

A smile? Klein was stunned, wondering if he was dreaming.

Before he could regain his senses, the figure instantly faded and disappeared from where he was. The sound of water splashing around him echoed in the air.

Puzzled, Klein swam to the shore and got out of the water. Looking around, he found that this place was unusually remote. There were no roads or living people. Only the slightly turbid river water continued flowing in an unchanging manner.

It ended just like that? Mr. A died just like that? Who was that lady just now? She was so strong that Mr. A didn't even have time to scream... And she smiled at me. Smiled... Maybe it's a "She?" However, other than figures at the level of the Pope, how could there be angels walking on the ground from the three Churches. Furthermore, a figure on the level of Pope obviously wouldn't be in Backlund... Klein couldn't believe that he was out of the danger zone.

After a moment of contemplation, he finally felt a sense of reality.

She should be a powerhouse sent by the Churches. She arrived in time and successfully saved me.

If I hadn't informed Miss Justice ahead of time, then they might not have taken such timely action. There would've been a high chance of me dying at Mr. A's hands, with the possibility of resurrection being a question...

Yes, it also has to do with me persisting on, dragging on the battle all the way until this moment.

Not bad at all...

With a sigh of relief, Klein began to look for a way out.

...

"Exile!"

The man with the gold mask pointed at Azik Eggers and threw his figure into the void, a spot no one knew.

Then, he turned around to face Ince Zangwill, who was looking at him with a frown.

"There's no time, we can't finish him off that quickly! We have to hide this area as quickly as possible. Do you want the Church to discover our secret?" The man with the gold mask growled angrily.

Ince Zangwill put away his doubts, nodded, turned to 0-08 which had stopped writing, and grabbed it.

His figure was faltering somewhat, and by his legs were piled pants that had nearly been ripped apart in the middle of the battle.

...

Inside Red Rose Manor, Prince Edessak sat by the full-length windows with an abnormally vacant look in his eyes.

"Your Highness, please hurry." A voice sounded beside him.

Edessak's eyes turned spirited as he took a breath, picked up the revolver on the table, and pressed it against his temple. Inside it was a bullet that obliterated Spirit Bodies.

He turned his head and looked longingly out at the golf course and the strolling horses.

Bang!

He pulled the trigger.

-x-X-x-

In the hall where the stone pillars had collapsed, a group of Nighthawks wearing black windbreakers and silk hats appeared around the altar. The person leading the team was the Archbishop of the Church of the Evernight Goddess, Saint Anthony Stevenson.

"It was disrupted by someone?" he muttered without stopping and directly walked to the stone door that led to the interior.

Rich darkness surfaced as the stone door silently opened. Saint Anthony led some of the Nighthawks in as they delved deeper.

Along the way, they didn't discover a single guard or anything of value. It was as if this place had been forcefully swept clean.

Finally, they reached a room in the deepest recesses, but there was nothing there but walls and stone pillars. The blue door of light which was there when Klein left was long gone.

The lanterns in the Nighthawks' hands suddenly lost their light, and darkness enveloped the room.

When everything returned to normal, they found that the surrounding walls had somehow melted away. However, there were no hidden doors or tunnels behind them. It was either a thick layer of mud and rocks or the corridor they came from.

Saint Anthony was silent for more than ten seconds before saying, "Try divination.

"Search the vicinity."

...

Achoo!

Walking through the pathless cliffs and forest, Klein was saddened to realize that he had apparently really fallen sick.

The residual effects of Mr. A's Beyonder powers, combined with the fact that he was drenched during winter, gave him the shameful cold.

However, he didn't dare to stop to collect dry twigs to light a fire and dry his clothes and money. He was afraid that the Beyonders of the Church would find him.

Even though he had already gained the endorsement of Stanton Isengard from the Machinery Hivemind and obtained the status of a semi-official, this was a matter involving the Primordial Demoness's awakening and the True Creator's descent—two cases of the highest order. Therefore, he was bound to be subjected to rigorous investigations, have tea sessions with the Machinery Hivemind, Mandated Punishers, and Nighthawks to recount the whole process actively or passively.

There were two major pitfalls to this. One was that he knew people inside the Nighthawks, and although Detective Sherlock Moriarty looked quite different from the martyred Klein Moriarty, making it impossible to identify him via photographs, he had zero confidence if things were done face to face. Two, because of similar pathways, the Church of the Evernight Goddess wasn't very friendly to people and things related to Death. Back in the Pale Era at the end of the Fourth Epoch, Death had fallen under the siege of the seven gods, and Sherlock Moriarty had "summoned" a powerful descendant of Death at the critical moment. This wasn't a problem that could be explained away easily.

That high-level powerhouse was rushing to deal with Ince Zangwill and 0-08, so she didn't have time to bother with a friendly small fry like me. However, I can't be careless as a result. I should flee when it's necessary!

Yes, I can write to the Machinery Hivemind when I have a chance, stating the second reason as to why I have to temporarily leave Backlund. This way, I might still have a chance to work with them in the future. Of course, I have to secretly observe to see if the Machinery Hivemind has any strong enmity towards any descendants of Death... I wonder how Mr. Azik is doing...

Heh heh, perhaps Sherlock Moriarty might be dead in the official announcement. He sure lived up to his name and identity...

As quickly as possible, Klein tried to find a small town and blend in with the crowd while enduring the alternating fever and cold.

Only in human society could the Faceless's powers be fully expressed.

The woman who was working with Mr. A, uh—she should be a Demoness. She went to East Borough... From the looks of the ritual, there must've been a large number of deaths over there. I wonder... With the spiritual intuition of a Seer, Klein's heart suddenly felt heavy.

At this moment, all the colors in front of his eyes turned saturated, as if they had been sprinkled with oil by a deity.

The feeling was over instantly, and Klein found himself far away from where he had been, with the bronze-skinned, soft-featured Azik Eggers appearing next to him.

"Mr. Azik, are you unhurt?" He couldn't help but heave a sigh of relief.

"I am," Azik replied frankly before smiling, "but to an Undying, this isn't a big problem."

Klein calmed down and asked, "What happened to Ince Zangwill and 0-08?"

"Ince Zangwill is still alive, and he still wields that Grade 0 Sealed Artifact," Azik said as he walked.

Klein tried hard to follow him as he couldn't help but sigh.

"What a pity."

"Don't worry about it; he was severely injured," Azik solemnly said. "And most importantly, we know that he was secretly cooperating with the royal family, so we don't have to worry about not being able to find him in the future. This way, you can focus on improving yourself, and I can also try to go to a few places that I've recalled, to awaken more memories. Heh heh, your luck isn't bad. I've been secretly observing the people from MI9 and the royal family to confirm Ince Zangwill's whereabouts. One of the most important places was Red Rose Manor, so I've always been wandering around the area. Otherwise, I wouldn't have been able to rush over to save you so quickly."

Klein immediately felt a little awkward when this was mentioned.

"Mr. Azik, aren't you puzzled as to why I didn't die?"

"I often wake up after entering a coffin as well. This is something that I previously recalled," Azik said with a smile, completely unfazed by the matter. "And in my incomplete memory, although it's rare in others, it's not without precedent."

He often wakes up after entering a coffin... Often? Klein suddenly realized that the problems that he was worried about were nothing in the eyes of a real powerhouse.

As expected of an Undying of the Death pathway... Well, Mr. Azik had mentioned that he had been in this Sequence for a long time, which means that he has long advanced... Klein thought for a moment, then he asked with concern, "Mr. Azik, Would Ince Zangwill discover that I'm Klein Moretti?"

He was afraid that Ince Zangwill would take revenge on Benson and Melissa.

"Unlikely. At most, he would believe that we knew each other long ago, or that you're my... informant, if we use the terms that the police uses." Azik recalled and said, "But that Grade 0 Sealed Artifact might notice it, but you don't have to worry."

"Why?" Klein pressed.

It was unknown what Azik had remembered, but his expression suddenly turned strange. It was as if he wanted to laugh, but at the same time, he felt horrified.

"That Grade 0 Sealed Artifact will keep attempting to write down the death of its owner. This is likely to be intrinsic to it and cannot be changed. Therefore, I doubt it would actively divulge such important information that can put Ince Zangwill at a tremendous advantage during such a critical moment—unless it involves something that it cannot avoid or explain."

Seeing that Mr. Azik was so sure about it while producing such strong justifications, Klein exhaled. It was as if he had recovered a little from the cold.

Seeing this, Azik added, "It's best if you leave Backlund for the time being. Ince Zangwill might use that Grade 0 Sealed Artifact to seek revenge again, using your fake name.

"As long as you aren't in Backlund, it should be fine. That Grade 0 Sealed Artifact's sphere of influence doesn't exceed a large city."

Just as I had predicted, there's a limit to its sphere of influence... Otherwise, Ince Zangwill could've easily hidden in a small town in the Southern Continent and leisurely arrange the fates of all his targets without having to worry about anyone finding him... Klein asked after some deliberation, "A short trip to Backlund for a day or half a day is fine, right? With the premise that I've changed my identity and looks."

With that, he rubbed his face, instantly reverting back to his appearance back in Tingen.

Azik's eyebrows twitched, and he nodded.

"It's fine."

He turned his head and looked into the distance at the spot that he could no longer see.

"It seems like I've been targeted by a powerful existence of the Church of the Evernight Goddess. It's best if you don't stay by my side, or you might be implicated. Heh heh, they're very interested in the Beyonder characteristics related to Death."

"Yes, I plan on heading out to sea. While I digest my potion, I'll be seeking mermaids. It's a condition for my advancement," Klein explained his plan.

Azik tilted his head.

"Mermaids? Could a mermaid in the form of a dead spirit work? I can find at least four."

"Probably... not..." Klein reached out and wiped his forehead.

His intuition told him that it was definitely impossible, but he planned to divine it above the gray fog to confirm it.

Without mentioning the dead mermaid again, Azik said, "If there's anything, then contact me through the messenger."

Messenger... Klein suddenly felt guilt-ridden and ashamed.

"I-it died in my battle with Mr. A. It saved my life."

Azik gave him a glance, shook his head, and laughed.

"Don't worry about it. As long as it isn't killed by a powerhouse at the level of an angel or via some special method, then as long as the Underworld still exists, it can slowly be reborn there.

"And before that, I have similar messengers numbering... Uh, I don't know how many there are either."

It sounds like there's an army of such powerful and humongous messengers? Klein turned agape, unable to say a word.

His shame faded, and he asked curiously, "Mr. Azik, where is the Underworld, or in other words, hell?"

"The spirit world. To be precise, it's a special place that the ancient Death created in the spirit world." Azik didn't hide the truth.

Ancient Death? That should be the ancient god, Phoenix Ancestor Gregrace... So the Underworld belongs to the spirit world. No wonder the basic structure in mysticism is the real world, the spirit world, and the astral world. It doesn't contain the Underworld and the Abyss... Klein was about to ask a question when he suddenly remembered something and quickly said, "Mr. Azik, I obtained a Card of Blasphemy created by Emperor Roselle. It contains the secrets of High-Sequence Beyonders. I believe it can help you recall more things. However, you'll have to wait a while. It's hidden in Backlund."

Klein didn't mention the bounty, fearing that it would reveal the Tarot Club's secret, the mysterious space above the gray fog, and Miss Justice; therefore, he could show his gratitude towards Mr. Azik for his help and sacrifice, in this tactful way.

Aziz looked at him in surprise, but he ultimately said nothing. He nodded and said, "When you get it back, have the messenger bring it to me. I'll immediately return it to you after I study it. Or you can copy the contents and pass it to me."

He paused for a moment as if he had thought of something. Then, he took out a glove that was so thin that it looked like it was made of human skin from his pocket and handed it to Klein.

"I've already awakened the relevant memories, so I no longer need it. Heh heh, it's an item that that pirate rear admiral left behind. I've placed some seals on it so that it wouldn't be hungry. However, every time it's used it will require you to use a human's flesh and soul to feed it; otherwise, it will devour you."

... Creeping Hunger? The remains of a particular Shepherd? Klein immediately recalled what the glove represented.

-x-X-x-

In a small town on the outskirts of Backlund.

After changing into clean and dry clothes, Klein placed the wet bills on the surface of the table, one by one, waiting for them to dry naturally in the warm room.

During this process, he moved very carefully and very gently. Even his sneezing and coughing which were brought by the fever had been forcefully suppressed.

To make sure there were no mistakes, he didn't dry them by controlling a flame.

Having done all this, he walked to the corner of the hotel room, where there was a full-length mirror.

Klein's black hair was neatly combed in the mirror. He had a pair of dark brown eyes, and his face was thin and angular.

He had gold-rimmed glasses on the bridge of his nose and was beardless. He looked young but also experienced.

This was a modification of Zhou Mingrui's appearance, with the traits of a native from the Northern Continent. Moreover, this was his youthful appearance during university when he was filled with vigor, one that had yet to be made fat by society.

He intended to go back to Backlund when things have settled down a little, and then he would get himself a legal identity for his current appearance. Compared to when he left Tingen, he had no shortage of appropriate channels. For example, he had Ian at the Bravehearts Bar, Miss Sharron's circle, and Detective Isengard Stanton.

How nostalgic... Klein whispered. He busied himself with a ritual in the room where the curtains had been drawn. He planned to bring Creeping Hunger above the gray fog to study it safely.

Inside the silent, ancient palace, he appeared at the very end of the long bronze table, leaning back in his chair while holding a pair of thin gloves made of human skin.

Immediately after, he closed his eyes and extended his spirituality into the object that required sealing.

He immediately felt the hunger of the glove. It was as if it had a stomach that could never be filled, but above the gray fog, it was so tame that it didn't dare let out even the slightest bit of malice. It was like a hunting dog lying there, not daring to move at all.

Then, Klein heard cries of indignation and groans of pain.

Many distorted, hideous, and grieving faces appeared in his spiritual perception, brimming with unspeakable melancholy and madness.

These faces were deeply fused with the Beyonder characteristics of different colors and different states. Wherever Klein's spirituality spread, it would combine with the corresponding faces and use the powers it had.

This is the way to use it?

Together with the help of divination, Klein made one attempt after another and figured out what the five souls that the Creeping Hunger could let out to graze.

The first was Faceless, but it only had the powers to change his appearance and build.

The second was Psychiatrist. He could make a target fall into a frenzied state, place a certain amount of psychological cues; and could simulate a dragon's might, intimidating individuals and groups, and creating chaos.

The third was Interrogator. It allowed the wearer of the glove to be proficient in the use of all kinds of weapons, become a demolition expert, possess the ability to focus his mind, and have the ability to pierce a target's Spirit Body.

The fourth was Nightmare. There was only one power, which was to drag someone into a dream without being detected. However, it was unlike a Beyonder of the corresponding Sequence. It was accomplished by Creeping Hunger, so the wearer could still move their bodies after entering a Nightmare state.

The fifth was Priest of Light. It allowed him to produce a halo-like effect, purifying all undead and foul creatures within a certain range. At the same time, he also had the singing ability of a Bard which could strengthen his companions, as well as summon the Light of Holiness which was weaker than Flaring Sun.

The limit is five souls, and the powers are fixed when "letting them out to graze" for the first time... This isn't something I can decide for myself. It's purely based on luck; maybe there can be three or just one... Klein thoughtfully nodded, sighed, and said to the suffering souls, "No matter what kind of people you were in the past, I will gradually free you from your imprisonment to acquire complete deliverance.

"In the future, the souls I graze will only come from people who have committed heinous and unforgivable crimes. For every such Beyonder I kill, I'll replace one of you and release you, regardless of whether I need their powers or not."

His solemn but gentle voice echoed within the ancient palace. The wailing souls quieted down, no longer writhing in a hideous fashion.

Phew... Klein exhaled, opened his eyes, tapped the edge of the ancient table with his fingers, and said to himself, That Faceless's powers overlap with mine, so it's completely useless. Once I have something to replace it with, I'll release him first. Yes, when the time comes, I can attempt to channel his spirit and converse with him. Perhaps I might receive information regarding the high Sequences of the Seer pathway, as well as clues to the whereabouts of mermaids... No, there's no need to wait for a replacement. In a few days, I can make the attempt when I fully recover from my cold...

The soul corresponding to the Priest of Light should be able to complete the incomplete formulas I previously obtained. Furthermore, he'll leave behind the corresponding Beyonder characteristic. That way, Little Sun doesn't need to worry about his subsequent advancements. Yes, he will be the second to be released...

As for me needing to feed a human's soul and flesh to Creeping Hunger every time it's used, that's not something I need to pay attention to. I usually wouldn't use it anyway. When using it, I'll definitely be facing a terrifying enemy. In such a battle, there's no lack of lives to cull. Even if there isn't, I can throw Creeping Hunger above the gray fog and not be worried about it's backlash, nor do I need to be afraid of harming the innocent. The worst outcome would it becoming unusable...

Putting his thoughts away, Klein tried to use the mystical item, Creeping Hunger, to divine the formula for the Shepherd potion but ended up failing.

He didn't divine the origins of Creeping Hunger, afraid that he would provoke an unfriendly existence.

Although he wasn't afraid of endangering himself due to the gray fog's isolation and obstruction, doing so could likely damage Creeping Hunger.

I'll consider trying that out when I no longer need it... Klein leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table.

He quickly recalled the previous matters and keenly noticed a detail.

After the Master Key was obliterated, its Beyonder characteristic didn't disappear. Instead, it became dots of light, trying hard to converge...

It can be assumed that the Apprentice characteristic that's formed in the end will no longer contain Mr. Door's roars.

In other words, such a method can be used to rid the mental corruption inside a Beyonder characteristic!

But the underlying problem is that there's no way to destroy a Beyonder characteristic which has solidified into an item under normal circumstances. Back then, I was relying on a ritual that could allow a true god to descend. It needed the prerequisite of a large number of innocent lives...

Also, once the All-Black Eye is shattered, the True Creator's mental corruption that's hidden within will definitely erupt. When that happens, who can withstand it? Do it above the gray fog?

As these thoughts crossed his mind, Klein remembered what could've happened at East Borough. He hurriedly conjured a pen and paper to make the appropriate divination.

After receiving the revelation, his expression sank, and slowly, he leaned back in his chair.

Below him, the endless gray fog floated in silence in a seemingly eternal unchanging fashion.

...

Audrey stood by the window, looking at the fog mixed with pale yellow and iron-black colors rapidly disperse. When she saw the heavy rain that was incompatible with winter, her heart felt more at ease.

After an unknown period of time, she and Susie waited for Earl Hall's eventual return home.

"Father, how is it?" Audrey asked with concern. @@novelbin@@

Earl Hall smiled warmly as he handed his coat and hat to an attendant.

"It's resolved, but the exact details are still unclear. My little princess, you've really helped me greatly this time. You deserve a ton of medals!"

That's good, that's good... Thanks to Mr. Fool's reminder, thanks to the risky investigation of "His" adorer... Our Tarot Club has once again stopped the descent of an evil god and saved the world! Audrey's heart was filled with pride.

Earl Hall took the towel from the maidservant's hands, wiped his face, and sighed.

"However, this time, there were still some serious casualties. To think that Backlund's smog could become so deadly... Although the statistics haven't been tabulated, I estimate that more than ten thousand people died in East Borough, the dock area, and the factory district. Furthermore, the plague is still spreading, so please try not to leave the house for the time being."

More than ten thousand people? That was a statistic Audrey could understand but couldn't imagine. Only on the anniversary of the kingdom's founding and during the parade, would she be able to see tens of thousands of people gathered together.

However, this didn't stop her heart from feeling heavy as her mood suddenly turned gloomy.

...

Daisy stood outside her apartment, watching the doctors and nurses in white coats and masks enter and carry out the bodies.

She had long known the outcome. Her expression was numb and her eyes vacant. She subconsciously moved closer to the door.

At this moment, the police officer in charge of the cordon stopped her.

"Don't go over. Do you want to be infected with the plague?"

Daisy stood there as she watched the two bodies being carried out. She saw her mother, Liv, hugging her sister, Freja, tightly. They were carried to a cargo carriage that was wrapped in black cloth and temporarily requisitioned. She then watched as they disappeared in front of her eyes as a white cloth covered them.

The carriage slowly moved towards the other end of the street.

At that moment, Daisy seemed to wake up from a dream. She turned around and ran at full speed, chasing after the carriage.

The ground was abnormally muddy after the rain. She fell and got up several times, leaving her body covered in dirt.

However, she was still unable to catch up with the carriage and could only watch it disappear around the corner.

Daisy slowed her pace, her body swaying slightly as her expression turned abnormally vacant.

She held onto the trees by the street and stared at the place where the carriage had left.

Suddenly, her entire body went limp, and she started weeping.

"Mother...

"Freja..."

The voice was soft, low, sharp, weak, and lingered.

At this moment, in East Borough, the dock area, and the factory district, tens of thousands of people were similarly crying out in grief.

...

Empress Borough, Sodela Palace.

Wearing a crown above his resolute face and thin mustache, George III sat on the throne. He stared at the earl palatine in front of him without saying a word.

"Your Majesty, the people from the three churches are waiting outside for your explanation," the earl palatine asked as sweat dripped down his forehead.

"Explanation? Prince Edessak was seduced by a Demoness, causing him to collude with a cult and attempt to rebel. That is the explanation! His schemes were exposed, and he has already committed suicide. What other explanations do they need!?" George III suddenly flew into a rage.

He took a deep breath and regained his usual solemnity.

"You tell them that anyone who obtains the corresponding aristocratic title via any means can get a seat in the House of Lords. The property restrictions needed for elections will be relaxed, and the invalid constituencies will be removed. This is to appease the factory owners and bankers.

"Similarly, the National Atmospheric Pollution Council will immediately make their final statement. The relevant bill will soon be passed, and the minimum safeguards and working hours will appear in the form of a law!

"The Poor Law shall be reformed in accordance with their requests... The Three Churches are permitted to send their personnel into the military!"

"Your Majesty..." The earl palatine was startled.

Such a concession was beyond his imagination, especially the last one.

George III flared up again.

"Tell them this! Since they want a new order, I will give them a new order!"

"Yes, Your Majesty." The earl palatine didn't dare say anything further and left the palace.

George III sat there, unmoving for a long time as though he was a stone statue.

After an unknown period of time, his expression suddenly turned gentle.

-x-X-x-

Morning of the 31st December, at the Harvest Church south of the Bridge.

Emlyn White stood in a kitchen wearing his priest robes, occasionally tossing different herbs into a large iron pot and stirring them to a certain extent.

After all the pre-prepared ingredients were tossed in, he waited patiently for another ten minutes. Then, he scooped up the ink-black liquid with a metal ladle and poured it into a glass cup and glass bottle beside him.

48, 49, 50... Emlyn glanced at the empty pot and counted the medicine he had brewed.

After confirming the quantity, he picked up a large tray and brought the bottles of dark green liquid to the hall.

In the hall, more than half of the pews had been removed, and the floor was covered with tattered blankets. Lying within them were victims of the plague who were either in deep sleep or groaning in pain.

Emlyn and Father Utravsky worked together, each carrying some of the medicine, distributing it from two ends.

The first person in the queue was a middle-aged man with a sallow complexion. He hurriedly propped himself up halfway, received the medicine, and drank it.

He handed back the bottle and said to Emlyn in gratitude, "Father White, thank you very much. I feel much better and have some strength again!"

Emlyn lifted his chin and replied disdainfully, "This is only an extremely trivial matter that isn't worth being grateful for. All of you are truly ignorant."

With that, he sped up the distribution of the potions.

After ten minutes or so, he returned to the altar of Earth Mother and complained to Father Utravsky, "You should get two more volunteers!"

Father Utravsky didn't respond. He looked at the patients and said with a gentle smile, "They should be completely healed in two or three days."

"How do you know?" Emlyn turned his head in surprise.

Father Utravsky looked down at him benevolently and said, "Herbal medicine is one of the domains of the Earth Mother. As 'Her' believer, I do know some of the basics even if I'm not part of the Earth pathway."

Emlyn tsked.

"I'm not interested in religion and know little about it."

Although I've been copying Earth Mother's bible in the recent months... he inwardly added in a slightly resentful tone before saying, "Father, I didn't expect you to accept nonbelievers in the faith. Among them, only two or three of them are believers of the Earth Mother."

Father Utravsky smiled without minding what he said.

"They are also lives, innocent lives."

Emlyn paused for a few seconds, exhaled, and said, "Father, I've already found a way to resolve the psychological cue. Perhaps I will leave this place soon."

Wait, why did I mention this? I was actually moved by him. What if he locks me up in the basement again? Emlyn suddenly turned nervous.

Father Utravsky's expression remained unchanged as he looked down and said to Emlyn, "Actually, you didn't need to seek out solutions. In a little while, the psychological cue will be automatically removed, and you will be free to choose whether to come to the cathedral."

"Any longer and I would've become the Mother's, no—Earth Mother's devout believer!" Emlyn blurted out.

Father Utravsky raised an eyebrow and said, feeling somewhat surprised, "I didn't compel you to change your faith.

"The psychological cue I left in you was for you to return to the cathedral every day, hoping that you would be able to fully appreciate the value of life and the joy of a harvest."

"The only effect of the psychological cue was to make me return to the cathedral?" Emlyn's expression instantly froze.

Father Utravsky nodded frankly.

"Yes."

"..."

Emlyn's mouth gaped as he slowly and mechanically turned his head to look back at the altar, looking at the Earth Mother's Sacred Emblem of Life, as if he had become a puppet that very instant.

...

In the evening of the 31st December. 2 Daffodil Street, Tingen City.

Benson entered the house, took off his hat and coat, and chuckled.

"I've booked second class tickets for the steam locomotive to Backlund on 3rd January."

Melissa, who was sitting in the dining room with several newspapers in front of her, worriedly said, "Benson, the air in Backlund is terrible. Tens of thousands of people have died from the poison and diseases caused by the smog a few days ago..."

"It's a sad and regretful matter." Benson walked to the dining room, sighed, and said, "But the two Houses have already passed the report submitted by the National Atmospheric Pollution Council. There will be legislation to regulate the emission of smoke and wastewater, so a new Backlund will welcome us. You don't have to worry too much."

Having said that, he smiled mockingly.

"When I came back from Iron Cross Street, I found a lot of factory owners or their employees from Backlund recruiting people. They said that due to the smog and plague, the factories there are suffering a shortage in manpower, so they're willing to promise that the working hours and minimum wage will be much better than the current standard, heh heh."

"You think it's impossible?" Melissa asked.

"When more and more people flock to Backlund, it will be impossible unless both Houses pass the corresponding laws directly." Benson spread his hands and pointed to the table. "Well, it's time to receive the new year."

There were three sets of forks and knives, three empty porcelain plates and three cups on the table.

Three cups. One for beer, two for ginger beer.

...

In the evening of 31st December.

Dressed to the nines, Audrey stood inside a lounge, waiting for the start of the New Year's Party. However, one couldn't see the excitement, exuberance, and joy on her face despite the fact that she was about to become an adult.

In front of her was a newspaper. On it was written:

"... According to preliminary estimates, a total of over 21,000 people died in the fog, and the subsequent plague took the lives of close to 40,000 people. Among the deceased were young children, healthy young men, and women..."

Phew. Audrey couldn't help but close her eyes.

Just then, her father, Earl Hall, and her mother, Lady Caitlyn, knocked on the door and said in unison, "Your beauty surpasses everyone tonight. Darling, it's time. The queen is waiting for you."

Audrey slowly breathed out and wore an elegant and beautiful smile. She then walked out of the lounge and entered the party's hall, under the company of her parents.

She walked all the way up to the front of the dais and, under the gaze of many, handed her white, muslin-gloved hand to the queen.

The queen led her to the edge of the dais as they faced all the guests.

After a short pause, the queen smiled and said, "Although this is a dark period in Backlund's history, we still have a gem that can illuminate the entire city. Her wisdom, her beauty, her character, her etiquette, are all impeccable.

"Today, I will formally introduce her to you.

"Lady Audrey Hall."

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Outside the window, the fireworks exploded into a dreamy light. @@novelbin@@

On the last night of 1349, Audrey officially came of age and was presented to society.

...

In the afternoon of 3rd January 1350.

On the outskirts of East Borough, in a newly opened cemetery.

Using divination, Klein found the graves of Old Kohler and Liv.

This wasn't a grave in the truest sense of the word, but rather a niche where an urn was stored. They went on, row after row, stacked one above another.

Standing there, Klein saw that not only was there no photograph or epitaph on Old Kohler's niche, but even his name was missing.

Similar situations weren't uncommon. There were too many ownerless ashes whose relatives and friends couldn't be located. Their names, looks, and whatever experiences they had were unknown, nor did they garner the interest of anyone. They were only distinguished by the numbers on the niches.

Klein closed his eyes, pulled out a slip of paper, shook it into a piece of metal, and carved a word on the niche's door: "Kohler."

Then, he added an epitaph: "He was a good worker. He had a wife, a son, and a daughter. He worked hard to live."

He withdrew his wrist, and with a shake of his wrist, the black-haired, brown-eyed, and emaciated Klein let the paper burn in his hands, as if it was a memorial service to all the souls residing in the area.

Instead of appearing to help Daisy, who had lost her mother and sister, he anonymously wrote to Reporter Mike Joseph, describing the girl's predicament in detail, so as not to implicate her in his own affairs.

Mike had met Daisy, knew about her, and had enthusiastically promoted the establishment of a corresponding charity fund. Therefore, Klein believed that he could help her receive more help so that she could complete her basic studies and find a stable job that could support her.

Taking two steps back, Klein looked around, taking in the names, photos, and even the victims who had those missing.

He raised his head, let out a long breath, turned around, and left the cemetery.

On the steam locomotive to Backlund, Melissa was engrossed in her textbooks, and Benson was soon chatting with the passengers around him.

"It's too expensive, just too expensive. A whole ten soli, half a pound!" A burly man who wasn't even thirty sighed from the bottom of his heart. "If it weren't for the fact that I couldn't buy a third-class seat or a boat ticket recently, I wouldn't have spent this money at all. This is equivalent to half a week's worth of my salary!"

"Indeed, there are too many people heading to Backlund after the new year," Benson agreed.

The burly man wiped off his heartbroken expression and said expectantly, "Because they promised me 21 soli a week and that I wouldn't need to work more than 12 hours a day, we signed a contract!

"When I receive my first payment and rent a house, my wife will come to Backlund, and she'll be able to get a good job, a job that pays about 12 or 13 soli a week. It's said that Backlund is in dire need of people! When the time comes, ah, we'll earn a total of over a pound and a half a week, and we'll be able to eat meat frequently!"

"Your wish will definitely be achieved. The king has already signed the bill, passing the law for a minimum wage and maximum working hours," Benson sincerely wished him well before smiling. "This is the Land of Hope."

Woo!

The steam locomotive brought countless hopeful people to Backlund. The sky was still bright, and the fog in the air had thinned a lot. The gas lamps on the platform were no longer lit that early.

Experienced, Benson protected his sister and wallet before leaving the station with their suitcases while following the crowd.

Suddenly, they simultaneously felt a gaze sweep past them.

Tracing the gaze, Benson and Melissa saw a young gentleman with neat black hair and dark brown eyes.

The gentleman with the gold-rimmed glasses pressed his hat and looked past them into the distance.

Benson and Melissa also looked away and cast their gaze to the smoky pillars in the garden in the middle of the street as they looked forward to seeing the underground transportation system in Backlund.

Carrying his suitcase with an expressionless look, Klein walked past them with his body kept straight. He entered the departure station, facing the mass of people pouring into the Land of Hope, people filled with wonderful hopes in their hearts.

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.

(End of the Second Volume—Faceless)