Chapter 211: The Changed Question

Chapter 211: The Changed Question

Inside the carriage outside the Krag Club.

“‘Apostle of Desire’ may not necessarily be Patrick Jason Beria? You think there is a possibility we’ve been misled?” After hearing Klein’s words, Ikanser neither scoffed nor showed disdain. Instead, he seriously began discussing the issue with him.

A decent deacon… Though perhaps it’s because he often uses that magic mirror called Arrodes. No matter how bad or sharp-tempered someone is, they would be worn smooth… Klein inwardly praised him and sincerely nodded.

“This is only my personal opinion, born from caution.

“To verify it is very simple. Ask the magic mirror for the location of that Apostle of Desire, rather than the location of Patrick Jason Beria.”

Ikanser pressed down on his hat.

“That makes sense.”

His expression once again became grave, and his gaze followed it toward the magic mirror in his hand.

“Deacon Ikanser, if you ask for some clue here, that Demon will definitely sense it,” Klein reminded him from the side.

“That’s true.” Ikanser turned his head toward the two team members. “Continue protecting Mr. Moriarty in secret. Even if that Apostle of Desire attacks, the three of you together should be able to hold out for quite a long time, and there are military personnel nearby.”

“Yes, Deacon!” the two Machinery Hivemind members answered without hesitation.

Ikanser immediately left, heading toward where the Nighthawks were located—in other words, toward Isengard Stanton.

The Singer of God has been drawn away, and the Church of the Goddess has already deployed that Sealed Artifact… If the Apostle of Desire really intends to act, it will definitely be this afternoon… I hope there’s still time. I hope that magic mirror gives the correct answer… But in that case, I won’t have the chance to get involved, won’t be able to witness with my own eyes the death of the Demon endangering everyone, and won’t be able to touch the suitcases filled with banknotes, gold bars, gold coins, and jewelry… Klein watched Ikanser’s departing figure with a mixture of sighs and regret.

But he quickly recovered his mood.

This is fine too. At least I won’t have to take risks. The danger can be resolved smoothly and safely.

Besides, the Machinery Hivemind definitely won’t mistreat me. If they really succeed, my view and suggestion will certainly have played an extremely important role. And I am a believer of the God of Steam and Machinery. Based on the style of the major Churches, they should share part of the gains with me… With 50,000 pounds as the premise, no matter what, it shouldn’t be too little…

Thinking to this point, Klein still could not help feeling somewhat regretful.

Even so, he would not take risks by getting involved.

A Magician does not perform without preparation!

Everything is too tight, too rushed. It didn’t give me time to plan at all… Klein nodded to the two Machinery Hivemind members, stepped down from the carriage, returned to the Krag Club, and, as a precaution, had a waiter open a resting room for him.

…

Hillston Borough, inside Isengard Stanton’s sitting room.

Leonard Mitchell smoothed back his slightly unruly black hair and, following Captain Soest’s instructions, put on with difficulty the silver full-body armor stained with large patches of blood, aided by several other Nighthawks.

He lowered the visor, hiding his green eyes in the deep darkness, then extended his left palm clad in a silver-white metal gauntlet and took the magic mirror Ikanser handed him.

Within the Church of Steam and Machinery, this silver mirror’s codename was 2-111.

“It is only a Grade 2 Sealed Artifact?” Soest asked, somewhat surprised.

Ikanser nodded.

“Yes. Its harmfulness is not high.”

By the end of the sentence, a touch of gritted teeth had appeared in his tone.

“In other words, in all other respects, it has reached the standard of a Grade 1 Sealed Artifact?” Soest asked thoughtfully.

Ikanser glanced at him warily.

“Only in certain respects.”

He refused to reveal any more information.

At that moment, Leonard stroked the surface of the silver mirror with his right hand, and the sitting room suddenly became quiet.

After three times, he spoke in a deep voice.

“Honorable Arrodes, my question is: where is the Apostle of Desire who attacked Isengard Stanton currently located?”

The entire house abruptly darkened, as though a patch of cloud had happened to drift nearby.

Water-light flowed across the silver mirror and quickly condensed into a slightly blurry image:

It was a luxurious villa-style house, with a vast garden directly outside the window.

At the center of the garden was a glass greenhouse, inside which one crimson rose after another bloomed, vivid as dripping blood.

Above the glass greenhouse, beyond the thin fog, the pale sun could also be seen.

“He is in Backlund!” Isengard Stanton immediately calculated where the reflected location was based on the perspective and the position of the sun in the sky.

“This is completely different from the answer we received earlier when asking about Jason Beria’s location! We were misled!” Ikanser said in a deep voice.

Soest the Spirit Warlock let out a breath.

“How cunning.

“Then who exactly is the Jason Beria being pursued by the Singer of God?

“Sigh, there’s no time to discuss it. First, we’ll use the information from the image to narrow down the approximate area, then act immediately. I suspect that the Apostle of Desire is about to create a major incident!”

At that moment, the silver mirror called Arrodes had already dispersed the image and begun displaying words.

It demanded that Leonard Mitchell answer a question. If he lied or refused to answer, he would suffer severe punishment.

Leonard felt inexplicably nervous. He put away his usual careless manner and quietly waited for the question.

A few seconds later, he saw blood-like words change, forming one after another:

“Is there something parasitizing—”

The question had only been half completed when Leonard’s pupils rapidly contracted. His back tightened, and cold sweat broke out over his forehead.

If not for the suit of bloodstained silver armor concealing him, others would already have noticed his abnormality.

Just then, his left palm somehow trembled once.

The silver magic mirror suddenly quivered. The bright-red words were mysteriously and stealthily dyed with a faint hint of green. If one had not been staring at the mirror with full concentration, it would have been almost impossible to detect that extremely subtle change in color.

One word after another continued writhing, changing the previous question:

“Do you have a mark on you that cannot be told to others?”

“Yes. That mark exists in my memories,” Leonard answered steadily, but his body inside the bloodstained silver armor felt as though it had suddenly relaxed after having been stretched to its limit.

This mirror is too dangerous… It actually detected it directly! Good thing the old man has recovered a little after all this time… he thought, his lips dry.

Soest took out his pocket watch, clicked it open, and glanced at it. Then he said to Leonard inside the bloodstained silver armor,

“There is still time. You will lead the next operation!”

“Yes, Captain Soest.” Leonard secretly let out a breath.

…

Dock District. Backlund Shipyard.

Patrick Jason Beria entered the cabin reserved in advance.

He looked out the window, observing the sky shrouded in thin fog, silently calculating the time.

After a while, he swiftly removed his hat and clothing, then reached out and pulled, tearing away the outer layer of human skin!

Beneath that human skin was actually an alluring woman in her early thirties with deep features—not the brown-haired, brown-eyed man Klein had seen in his dream divination!

The woman took out clothes and calmly put them on, rapidly becoming a charming, seductive beauty.

Finally, from the bottom of her suitcase, she found a fist-sized stone statue, tightly wrapped it in the shed human skin, and tied a dead knot.

By the time she finished, the inland riverboat had already traveled some distance. She opened the window and threw the Patrick Jason human skin together with the stone statue into the river.

Plop!

The human skin bound to the heavy object quickly sank.

The woman patted her hands, shut the window, picked up her suitcase, and moved to a backup cabin.

Then she sat by the window of the new cabin, elbows on the table and cheeks resting in both hands, leisurely watching the outside.

After an unknown amount of time, she saw a violent wind sweep across the midair and blow away the thin fog.

The corners of her lips lifted, and her smile became radiant.

…

Cherwood Borough, inside a luxurious villa-style house not far from the Cathedral of the Holy Wind.

Pallas Negan, whose waist was bulky and whose eyes were gray-blue, pulled the mistress who had come to greet him into a bear hug. She was a beautiful girl whose face still held a trace of innocence.

Two people followed him. One was a middle-aged man in a black tailcoat, with brown hair and blue eyes. His face was expressionless. He was the Beyonder bodyguard provided by the Church of Storms, a Sequence 6 Wind-blessed.

The other was Duke Negan’s secretary.

He was a slim young blond man with delicate features. He looked refined, cultured, calm, and reserved. His greatest flaw was that his hairline had retreated far beyond what his age warranted.

As for the other guards—or rather, security personnel—they were scattered outside the house.

After they reached the second floor, the Wind-blessed entered the bedroom ahead of Duke Negan and quickly inspected it. Duke Negan’s secretary was responsible for searching the surrounding rooms.

After confirming there was no problem, they nodded to Duke Negan, indicating that he could continue.

“My mood is almost settling down,” Duke Negan joked halfheartedly.

His mistress responded happily, “Then we can have a proper chat. I really want to hear about your experiences at sea.”

“I hope you’ll still have the spirit for it afterward.” Duke Negan embraced his mistress, entered the bedroom, and closed the door with his heel.

His secretary and the Wind-blessed entered the rooms on either side, not relaxing in the slightest.

Inside the attic of that house.

A man in a dark overcoat sat on an old chair, eyes half closed, sensing something. From time to time, he smiled and shook his head.

His brown hair was slightly curled, and his brown eyes were cold. He was precisely the man Klein had seen during dream divination! Beside his foot, one of the suitcases was already missing.

“How bold. Such intense desire… That does not match my judgment of him. It seems he took a corresponding potion… How cooperative… Heh. How could they imagine that Patrick Jason Beria is two people…” The man tilted his face slightly upward, as though intoxicated.

“It’s almost time… Now!”

His right hand abruptly clenched, as though tightly gripping someone’s heart.