Chapter 214: A Gift, or a Curse

Chapter 214: A Gift, or a Curse

The cold potion slid down his throat, bringing Klein a hint of numbness—a numbness that pierced all the way into the depths of his soul.

His dance steps had already stopped. His spirit inexplicably rose, and his entire being seemed to arrive high in the sky, overlooking the ruined Resurrection Square, overlooking Kukwa City thrown into panic by repeated lightning strikes.

At that moment, his emotions inexplicably grew restless. He felt as though every passerby below had an invisible thread connected to his hand. Following his direction, they expressed joy or anger, sorrow or delight, acting out all kinds of behavior.

Over this period, Klein had often experienced similar sensations. He understood this was the “director’s” perspective: viewing all the participants in an event as marionettes, as actors, trying to manipulate or guide them into performing a grand drama.

Grasping that familiar feeling, Klein hurriedly adjusted his state of mind, completely detaching his emotions. With the cold detachment of a bystander, he watched everything without being affected by the feelings within the play.

As a “director,” one ought to follow the script, refer to reality, analyze rationally, make choices, and keep the accumulation of emotion, the progress of events, and the deployment of clues all within one’s own control.

Once his state of mind stabilized, Klein’s spirit immediately settled. Then he felt the potion’s power spread through his body like a net woven from sharp threads.

All at once, Klein felt his spirit body and his flesh being divided into countless tiny parts. Unable to endure it any longer, he let out a scream from the depths of his soul:

“No!”

His thoughts were then split apart as well, becoming fragment after fragment, each combining with different flesh and developing its own consciousness.

Here was Klein in pain. Here was arrogant Klein. Here was cold Klein. Here was gentle Klein. Here was Klein entertaining himself. Here too was Zhou Mingrui, Sherlock Moriarty, Gehrman Sparrow, and Dwayne Dantès.

His entire spirit body seemed to have been thrown into a shredder.

Not far away, tears sliding unconsciously down his cheeks, Leonard first saw the Captain, Dunn, who had been embracing Daly Simone, turn back into Klein Moretti. Immediately after, he noticed pale flesh buds protruding one after another from Klein’s face, neck, the backs of his hands, and other exposed areas. As if possessing life of their own, they constantly grew outward and transformed into transparent worms. Beneath his clothing, similar wriggling traces rose and fell.

Leonard had the feeling that, in the next instant, the other party would disintegrate into a mass of transparent worms, each rushing toward a different place.

He was about to do something when his head suddenly spun. By instinct, he closed his eyes, not daring to look any longer.

Under the sunlight, the transparent worms growing out of Klein’s body shone with one three-dimensional, layered mystical symbol after another. They connected to higher levels, linked to the laws at the bottom of reality, and directly expressed abstract concepts such as strangeness, madness, change, power, and knowledge.

Amid the cold wind, one illusory black thread after another appeared around Klein. They tangled together, forming strange “tentacles.”

As those tentacles spread, Klein’s spirit body, astral body, mind body, and ether body all shattered into pieces, each merging into different worms. His many thoughts became noisy, chaotic, and contradictory. Floating lightly upward, they seemed to be flying toward an infinitely high place, where countless phantoms surrounded enormous, distorted buildings, blowing instruments, delivering speeches, roaring, and murmuring.

In Klein’s countless scattered senses, everything around him overlapped in layers, as though turning into the spirit world, yet there were still living people moving about and a star shining overhead.

At that moment, the same memories surfaced within fragment after fragment of thought—vivid memories.

It was the scene of the King of Angels, Adam, closing His eyes in prayer and making a shocking entrance.

It was the scene of using Death Knell to press against Ince Zangwill and firing, blowing his head apart.

It was the scene of revealing a Clown’s smile and saying in a low voice, “That shot was the Captain’s.”

It was the scene of Adam, the Audience, watching the end of the drama with clear and innocent eyes.

It was the scene of becoming Dunn Smith and inviting Daly Simone to dance the closing dance.

They were so vivid. Especially the Audience’s gaze—it seemed to possess tangible feedback, tangible attraction, allowing Klein to gradually recover his self-awareness.

I…

Who am I?

Klein had already answered this question back during the Faceless stage. He did not need to think too much and swiftly understood his own identity:

A person from Earth, reshaped to a certain degree by Klein’s memory fragments.

A person profoundly influenced by the experience of being a Nighthawk.

A person who cherished his life and feared danger, yet could give everything for what he insisted upon.

A guardian. A poor wretch.

An extraordinary sense that did not originate from the spirit body or mind body slowly peeled away from the divided fragments and gathered into Klein’s new thoughts: detached, calm, observant, overlooking thoughts—thoughts capable of seeing the truth of the world from more angles and more sides.

He understood that this might be divinity. He did not resist it. Instead, he used it to string his original spirit body fragments together one by one with black threads, slowly turning himself back into a whole.

Only now did he understand the function of the advancement ritual.

It was a brand, and also an anchor. Compared to other pathways, a Bizarro Sorcerer, whose spirit body would split apart, needed an anchor at an earlier stage!

However, this did not yet require the support of faith. On the contrary, faith was too complicated, too chaotic, too filled with individual emotions. During the ritual’s divided state, it could easily erase the humanity of an advancer whose essence was temporarily still only Sequence 5, leaving only divinity behind.

A magnificent, profound drama, and the gazes of many spectators, were enough to become the anchor.

Although there had been few spectators at the scene this time, Adam, as the existence standing at the very peak of the Audience pathway, could alone equal thousands upon thousands of ordinary spectators. He could even envision an entire theater of spectators to create the effect.

At last, the whole was formed. All kinds of knowledge surged out from the depths of Klein’s half-human, half-divine spirit body, sweeping through his mind and bringing an indescribable impact, as though his head were about to explode.

Yet Klein, who had already begun to possess divinity and had many previous experiences, passed through this stage relatively easily with the posture of an observing bystander.

The transparent worms on his face, hands, neck, and beneath his clothes withdrew into his body. Once again, he became Klein Moretti, with black hair and brown eyes.

Glancing at Daly Simone, whose body in his arms was gradually cooling, Klein picked her up and walked step by step to Leonard Mitchell. Solemnly, he bent and placed her on the ground.

At this moment, Daly no longer had black scales or white fuzz. She had returned to her original appearance. Her eyes were gently closed, and the corners of her mouth lifted slightly, as if she were having the deepest, sweetest dream.

Klein straightened and looked at Leonard, who had reopened his eyes. In a low voice, he said,

“She has returned to the Goddess’s kingdom, just like the Captain.”

Just now, he had used “marionettization” to stop and reverse Daly’s mutation, allowing her to pass away like a human being before releasing his control.

“Mm.” Leonard tried to force a smile, but tears fell without his control.

Klein nodded lightly.

“For her, this might not be too bad an ending. In the form of a human, she returned to the embrace of the deity she believed in. And there, the Captain and the others are waiting.”

As he spoke, almost unconsciously and with sincere feeling, he raised his right hand and tapped four times clockwise over his chest.

Leonard instinctively followed and drew the crimson moon. Then he froze, his expression turning rather strange.

Klein looked around and said,

“Take Madam Daly back to East Balam. Say that she died in Ince Zangwill’s attack and that she made outstanding contributions to Ince Zangwill’s death.

“Don’t worry. No one will investigate you. Of course, you can also take this chance to leave the Red Gloves.”

“I… I’m used to being with the Church.” After a moment of silence, Leonard said.

Klein then removed his silk top hat and gave him a farewell bow.

Holding the hat, he turned and walked toward Ince Zangwill’s body. From it, he retrieved a card—one depicting a chariot and a crimson priest.

The face of that crimson priest was unmistakably Roselle Gustav.

Leonard’s lips moved. Suddenly, he said,

“You… You’re not returning to the Church?”

Klein did not turn around. He put the silk top hat back on and walked toward another exit of the square.

After taking a few steps, he paused slightly. With his back to Leonard, he answered,

“I can’t go back anymore…”

Can’t go back anymore… Leonard stared blankly at that familiar back as it walked farther and farther away, gradually disappearing.

Some time later, several Beyonders flew into Resurrection Square. Among them was one wearing the ordinary clerical robe of the Church of Evernight, with beautiful black hair and a delicate face.

No one could tell her age, because no one cared about that. They would only notice her deep, dark eyes, which seemed to conceal countless stars.

This lady hovered in midair and quietly gazed upon the square. Ince Zangwill’s remains were almost unrecognizable, and his shattered head was covered by an ordinary Tarot card.

It was The Star.

…

Above the gray fog, Klein placed the Red Priest card on his left side and closed his eyes to rest for a while.

He already had a preliminary understanding and grasp of a Bizarro Sorcerer’s abilities.

On one hand, he could transform into animals whose size difference from his own was not too great. In spirit body state, he could ignore this restriction. He could transfer his own wounds and diseases, or those of others, onto substitute paper figurines, and his Flame Jump range had increased to nearly a kilometer. The power of his Air Bullets had also risen to the level of cannon shells.

On the other hand, he could complete initial control of Spirit Body Threads in three seconds and completely transform a target into a marionette within fifteen seconds. His control range was 150 meters. At the same time, by using interlinked Spirit Body Threads, he could have his marionettes use all of his Beyonder abilities, and within an effective range of one kilometer, he could freely switch places with his marionettes.

Based on this, along with the worms split from his own mythical creature form and the disguises placed upon Spirit Body Threads, Klein could use substitutes at an even higher level. In other words, as long as even one marionette remained alive, a Bizarro Sorcerer would not die!

Enemies would find it difficult to know whether what they had killed was the Bizarro Sorcerer himself or one of his marionettes. The false and the true, the real and the unreal, would become impossible to judge.

After confirming his state and resting briefly, Klein immediately walked into the depths of the mysterious space above the gray fog, toward the staircase of light that seemed to lead to heaven.

As he expected, another step had appeared there—a step condensed from light.

This time, Klein was certain he could use this giant-like, six-step staircase to climb onto the gathered gray clouds.

One step, two steps, three steps… He reached the end, leapt, and landed on the cloud formed from gray fog.

What entered his sight was a brilliant door of light stained with a little bluish-black. It was formed from countless overlapping balls of light, each one itself a heap of twisted worms embracing one another in clusters. Some were transparent; some were semi-transparent.

This was the image Klein had once seen through Winner Enzo, though the real thing before him was very blurred, as if something were obstructing his vision.

In addition, from above the door of light hung one black thread after another, and suspended from them were nearly transparent “cocoons.”

Those “cocoons” swayed gently. Each wrapped a different soul body. Some were dark-skinned. Some were yellow. Some were white. Some wore jeans. Some held phones. Some had brightly colored clothing. Some had beautiful features. All had the aura of life, yet all had their eyes tightly closed.

Klein’s gaze froze at once, as though he had returned to Earth and was walking down a street where all races were present.

Then he noticed that three “cocoons” had already split open. Inside, there was nothing. They swayed in the wind.

Klein raised his head and silently stared at everything.

Quietly, he stared.

(End of Book 4)