Chapter 78: Trauma

Aiur Harson added, "Exactly, it is hard to imagine that the subsequent Sequence of Seer would be Clown. According to normal logic, no one would link them together."

"Is that strange? I remember that quite a number of Sequence potions also seem to lack similarities between their different levels." Lorotta said.

"No, Lorotta. This is completely different. Even if the other Sequence potions are lacking a connection, we can also find common points if viewed from a different angle. However, I cannot see it for Seer and Clown at all," Aiur Harson said.

Klein listened to their discussion and laughed. "No, there's still a common point."

"What?" Aiur asked curiously.

Klein replied, "Be it a Seer or a Clown, both of them can be found at the circus."

"..." Aiur, Dunn, and Lorotta were stunned.

"Pfft... Quite a good answer. I like young men like you!" Lorotta said.

Aiur also smiled. "In this era, the number of gentlemen who are equipped with the spirit of self-deprecation is decreasing. Thankfully, we have met one today."

Klein replied, "I only wish that the potions of the Sequence pathway would not have names like Beast Tamer, Acrobat, or Magician. That would really form a circus."

"Haha." Dunn and company were immediately amused. The carriage proceeded straight for Zouteland Street. Klein, who was not injured, was the first to enter Blackthorn Security Company.

"Goddess! What happened to you? Why are you like that?" Rozanne exclaimed when she caught sight of him.

Klein looked down at his dirty and tattered suit. "There are always all kinds of accidents during a mission. Thankfully, the Goddess blessed us, and it ended beautifully."

"Praise the Lady!" Rozanne devoutly drew the crimson moon across her chest, and she asked, "Do you need us to hide on the third floor again? Is the Sealed Artifact really that dangerous?"

"Trust me. It's far more dangerous than you can imagine," Klein replied.

"Goddess..." Rozanne's lips quivered. She informed Mrs. Orianna and company to head upstairs to the third floor. The neighbors of Blackthorn Security Company were either estates of the church or devout clergymen who vaguely knew of the situation.

When all the civilian staff dispersed, Klein did not rush to the entertainment room to inform the other Nighthawks. He returned and helped the captain and the rest escort Sealed Artifact 2-049, Monster Bieber's remnants, and the Antigonus family's notebook to the second floor.

Through the partition, Dunn pushed open the entertainment room's door. "Frye, Royale, both of you are to immediately head to the harbor's Tyrell Warehouse and aid Leonard in dealing with the aftermath."

"Alright." Royale with her raven-black hair and cold expression was the first to stand up.

Corpse Collector Frye stood up next.

They put down their Gwent cards and walked out of the entertainment room, and when they passed through the partition, they clearly paused.

"Wait!" Dunn shouted, not letting down their expectations.

"What else is there?" Sleepless Royale turned her head back and asked.

"Remember to inform the police. Let them seal off the road. Prevent anyone from coming close until you are done with the scene and move the corpse back," Dunn said.

"Alright." Royale turned around and took two steps before pausing. "Captain, is there nothing else?"

"No," Dunn answered.

Royale nodded and walked towards the entrance. Corpse Collector Frye maintained his adequate pace.

Klein watched as the two Nighthawks walked out the door and went upstairs, then followed the captain and the rest underground, proceeding straight to Chanis Gate.

As Dunn gestured for Sleepless Kenley to open Chanis Gate, he instructed Klein, "Go to the armory and get Old Neil here. We need his ritualistic magic to heal ourselves."

As the effects of the medicine began to wear off, his mental state gradually waned.

"Alright." Klein added, "I will watch the armory in Old Neil's place and wait for the Holy Cathedral's approval. I'm curious about the Antigonus family's notebook."

Klein walked a certain distance and turned into the armory and recounted the happenings generally to Old Neil.

"He became a monster that lost control... You even killed a Beyonder? It's like I'm listening to the script of a play." Old Neil mumbled as he walked straight towards the corridor without waiting for Klein's answer.

Klein asked out of curiosity, "Mr. Neil, doesn't the Church have real restorative medicine? Why would ritualistic magic be needed?"

"No medicine made with ordinary ingredients can provide restorative effects. Extraordinary ingredients are very rare, and most of them are not suitable for restorative medicine. You should know about the goddess's Gaze, right? When the medicine is first made via a ritual, it would be a standard, real restorative medicine. But every minute after its completion, its effect evaporates until little of its efficacy is left."

"I see..." Klein nodded. He watched Old Neil leave and sat down.

After some time, Old Neil walked into the room. "Tell the rest that no one is to come here within the next hour. I need to rest," he instructed casually, glancing towards Klein.

"Alright." Klein put on his coat and hat, picked up his cane, and returned to the corridor.

He slowly walked on the empty path when he saw many rooms he had never seen previously by the side.

"There is a secret door here..." Klein stopped at a spot around a bend as he looked at the room.

He discovered that Corpse Collector Frye had already returned and was carefully examining a completely dissected corpse.

Klein approached the room and knocked lightly on the opened door.

Frye stopped his actions and turned around.

"Sorry for disturbing you. I just wish to know if this is a corpse of a Beyonder," Klein asked as he controlled his tone.

"Yes." Frye only spat out a single word.

Klein's gaze landed on the corpse of the suited clown and saw the gruesome wound on the forehead.

"Any discoveries?" Klein asked.

"No," Frye answered.

The mood instantly turned awkward. Just as Klein was about to bid farewell, Frye spoke. "If you feel uncomfortable, you can come in to take a look."

Klein nodded and entered the room, coming in front of the long white-clothed table as he looked at the corpse.

The suited clown's red, yellow, and white paint had been cleaned off, revealing an unfamiliar face that looked normal. He was in his thirtys and had black hair.

At that moment, Frye picked up a pencil and piece of paper and began drawing.

Klein saw that Frye was sketching the suited clown's head.

On the piece of paper was a lifelike portrait. Compared to the corpse, the only difference was the lack of a wound.

"I never expected you to be that good at sketching." Klein said.

"My dream was to become an artist before becoming a Nighthawk." Frye's tone was completely placid.

"Then why don't you become one?" Klein asked.

Frye put down his pencil and said with the suited clown's portrait in hand, "My father was a priest of the Goddess. He wished that I become a priest. It's a presentable job."

"You became a priest?" Klein asked in surprise.

He found it unimaginable that Frye could become a priest with his personality and the vibes he exuded.

"Yeah, I did quite an okay job." Frye wore a cold expression as the corners of his mouth curled up a little. "Later, I encountered and experienced some things and ended up a Nighthawk."

Klein asked, "You were once a priest of the Goddess, so why not choose to be a Sleepless?"

"A personal reason," Frye answered frankly. "Furthermore, Madam Daly is a good role model."

"Help me watch this room. I have to immediately hand the sketch to the Captain... Closing a secret door is very troublesome." Frye said.

"Alright." Klein agreed.

With Frye gone, the room turned quiet. The corpse lay there as Klein's heart turned heavy.

He took a few breaths and, in a bid to defeat his fears, approached the long table.

The suited clown lay there silently with a pale face. His eyes were shut. Apart from the gruesome wound, he emitted the unique coldness of a dead man.

Klein observed for a moment as his emotions gradually settled. He swept his gaze and discovered a strange brand on the suited clown's wrist. Gathering his courage, he extended his hand to touch it, hoping to turn it around to see it more clearly.

Just as he touched him, the pale palm that had lost all vibrancy suddenly shot up, grabbing him by the wrist tightly!