Chapter 197: A Reasonable Development

Chapter 197: A Reasonable Development

“It can only last a little over a minute… That’s far too short…” The thought flashed through Klein’s mind, but he had no time to consider anything else. In two steps, he arrived before the desk.

He put down Groselle’s Travels, held 0-08, and rapidly wrote on a blank sheet of paper:

“George III intends to use this speech to fish out every enemy who seeks to sabotage his ritual. But if everything proceeds smoothly and no accident occurs, he will also seize the opportunity to consume the potion, reveal his trump card, and assault the divine throne. After all, the future holds too many unknowns and is likewise unsafe. Moreover, his current preparations are already sufficiently complete and proper.

“This is an extremely reasonable development.”

The moment he placed the final period, before Klein could properly check whether there were any mistakes in what he had written, the slightly dim quill in his hand vanished without a sound, as though it had never come, never existed.

And those few short sentences seemed to have drained Klein dry. A faint dizziness appeared in his head, forcing him to step back a few paces and drop heavily into a chair.

“That doesn’t make sense… Back then, I never saw Ince Zangwill look so exhausted using it… Uh, perhaps it’s because I forcibly summoned it and didn’t dare allow 0-08 to weave the story on its own. While writing, I had to support everything entirely with my own spirituality, while Ince Zangwill had 0-08’s cooperation, so the consumption wasn’t as great…” Klein closed his eyes and meditated for a while before finally recovering.

Under ordinary circumstances, it would have been impossible for him, who had no substantial contact with 0-08 and had merely seen it once, to summon this Grade 0 sealed artifact. But on one hand, he had personally received the luck bestowment of the Snake of Fate. On the other, he possessed Groselle’s Travels. That was an item left behind by the Dragon of Imagination, Ankewelt, and within it was hidden the City of Miracles, Liveseyd. It had some sort of deep connection with 0-08. If not for the interference of certain high-ranking existences, those two objects would have met long ago.

Klein did not know whether that connection in fate and characteristics could raise the probability of a successful summoning. He had merely thought that trying would cost him nothing, yet in the end, it had truly succeeded.

It was precisely because of this that he had not dared use Groselle’s Travels to carry the content written by 0-08’s projection. He had not even dared bring the two near each other, afraid that some unbearable accident might occur—one he could not prevent.

This was Backlund, a place with extremely high population density!

“Mm. Logically speaking, there shouldn’t be any accident. After all, 0-08 is an image from the gaps of history, which makes it fake. Groselle’s Travels was manifested by the Dragon of Imagination, which also makes it fake. Fake paired with fake—no matter what, it shouldn’t turn real. It lacks the material foundation of a Beyonder characteristic… I can test that later on some uninhabited reef island…” Klein rubbed his temple, stood, returned to the desk, and examined the words he had just written.

He had not directly written that George III would fail his advancement and die on the spot, because he believed that, when interfering with a Sequence 1 angel, a mere projection of 0-08 could not produce such a direct result. It had to be more indirect.

Furthermore, on the other side stood the Psychology Alchemists, along with Amon’s brother. Any excessively obvious influence would surely be detected and could easily be exploited. Klein could only take a roundabout path, focusing mainly on reducing the number of unknown factors.

“I hope it proves useful…” After staring at the paper for a while, Klein folded it and tucked it into his pocket.

Then he sacrificed Groselle’s Travels back above the gray fog.

Once that was done, Klein began considering another problem: when should he go out and buy ice cream for Will Auceptin?

“Backlund has Zaratul, and very likely Amon too. If I go out too often, I might run into them on the spot. That’s a little dangerous… Or perhaps I should summon ice cream from the gaps of history for Will? It’s perfectly real while being eaten, then disappears after fifteen minutes. No need to worry about getting fat at all. That’s practically wonderful…” Klein could not help muttering a few lines inwardly.

In the end, he still decided to change clothes and go out, because a person should keep their promises.

…

On Saturday morning, the sky was gray, gloomy, and foggy, making the heart feel oppressed for no clear reason.

This was a common sight in Backlund during deep winter. Although there was not as much thick smog and choking odor as last year, its geographical environment and climate meant that such conditions would exist for a long time. Controlling air pollution was never something that could be declared successful in only one or two years.

Melissa wore a black wool coat that reached past her knees over her long dress and a hat with fine black gauze hanging down from it. She walked quickly toward the door.

Benson held his top hat. Seeing this, he shook his head and said, “A girl not yet twenty should dress like a girl not yet twenty. This is far too mature and old-fashioned, understand? Old-fashioned.”

Melissa glanced at her brother and replied simply, “The price of bread has gone up another quarter penny per pound.”

“That price…” Benson clicked his tongue and sighed.

He then took out a silver pocket watch whose surface was covered in vine patterns, pressed it open with a snap, and glanced at it.

“Let’s go. The municipal square is still quite a distance away.”

Melissa gave a soft “Mm” and left the house together with her brother, walking out onto the street.

“Good morning, Mrs. Daniel.” After a few steps, Benson saw a neighbor leave her home and greeted her with a smile.

He was skilled at socializing and had long established good relationships with the people living nearby.

The woman called Mrs. Daniel wore pure black clothing. She was in her forties, thin-faced, her face covered by the fine black gauze falling from her hat. Hearing the greeting, she merely nodded and gave a brief reply.

“Good morning, you two.”

She did not stop for small talk. With cold indifference, she continued forward by herself.

Benson watched her back, deliberately slowing his pace. Only after some distance had opened between them did he turn his head and ask his sister, “Did something happen to Mrs. Daniel?

“I’ve been too busy lately and haven’t visited the neighbors in quite a while.”

Melissa pursed her lips.

“Mrs. Daniel’s eldest son, Larry, has been confirmed dead at the Amanda Mountains front. The news came yesterday.”

“That tall young man with the shy personality, but who was very careful, kind, and sincere? When he last came back, he said he had been promoted in the army and become a lieutenant…” Benson asked in some surprise.

Melissa nodded.

“I also can’t imagine Larry dying just like that…”

Just as she could not imagine students she knew at school dying tragically before her eyes.

In only a few short seconds, some people would never again be able to speak, converse, or read.

Benson fell silent for a moment, then sighed.

“I’ve been busy recently precisely because I’ve been handling matters of pensions and compensation. Perhaps Larry wasn’t included on the portion of the list assigned to me, so I didn’t know.

“That list came with quite a lot of information. Some were cheerful and passionate. Some were humorous and witty. Some were their parents’ only child. Some had determined personalities and were leaders among the soldiers around them. Some had just gotten married and had no children yet. Some were preparing gifts for their little daughters. Some carried love letters in their pockets and planned to post them at the post office once that battle ended… All of them are dead.”

Melissa and Benson both fell silent. For a long while, neither spoke.

Only when they neared an intersection did Melissa look at the road ahead and ask in a low voice, “What do you think His Majesty will speak about today?”

“Perhaps mobilization. Perhaps conveying confidence that we will win.” Benson answered casually.

Melissa turned her head and glanced at her brother.

“That doesn’t sound like you, Benson. Shouldn’t you make a few sarcastic remarks?”

“Even sarcasm should come after I hear the speech and understand the exact contents. One of the most basic principles of being a person is that one should not make reckless judgments about things one doesn’t understand well enough. Otherwise, one would be inferior to a curly-haired baboon.” Benson smiled.

At that moment, he saw another neighbor.

The man’s hair was gray. He had wrapped a scarf around half his face in layer after layer, wore a thick jacket, and carried a cloth bag. In a hurry, he crossed past the siblings.

“Mr. Thomas is dressed so strangely… Does he have something else to do on the way?” Benson looked at the man’s back and asked with some confusion.

Melissa answered in a very low voice, “Mrs. Thomas is ill. They’ve spent a great deal of their savings. Recently, food prices have risen a lot, while Mr. Thomas’s income hasn’t changed much. He has no choice but to line up at the relief point every few days and collect some bread. He is a respectable gentleman. He probably doesn’t want to be recognized.

“Also, there is always only a limited amount of food at the relief point. If one goes too late, there may be none left, and one has to apply separately at churches, poorhouses, and other places. Today, the relief distribution begins after His Majesty’s speech. Mr. Thomas probably plans to go straight there afterward.”

Benson slowly nodded and asked with concern, “What illness does Mrs. Thomas have? I know a few good doctors.”

“An illness caused by anxiety.” Melissa repeated what she had heard. “Mrs. Thomas is extremely worried about her youngest son serving in the army.”

“You mean young Thomas?” Benson’s brow furrowed slightly.

After receiving his sister’s affirmative reply, he fell silent, as if recalling something.

After a while, as they approached the nearest municipal square, Benson looked ahead and said quietly, “Young Thomas has already fallen in battle…”

Melissa did not answer. Her expression went briefly dazed.

They walked forward again in silence, as though relying on inertia alone.

Ahead of them, more and more people appeared. Some wore formal suits and carried canes, dressed like gentlemen. Some wore dresses dominated by blue, green, yellow, and red. Some had sweaters and jackets paired with trousers. Some wore deep black dresses in somber shades.

They emerged from their homes, came from their streets, like droplets of water splashing up and merging at crossroads into streams.

The streams surged forward. Many currents joined, weaving together at the square’s entrance into a majestic flood.

The flood slowly surged and submerged the square.

Amid such a tide of people, Melissa felt as tiny as a drop of water.