Chapter 248: Handling Hidden Dangers

Chapter 248: Handling Hidden Dangers

On the mountain outside Bayam, an entire forest had lost all vitality, and more than half of it had been buried by a collapsed cliffside.

A tall, burly middle-aged man with thick, deep-blue hair, wearing the robes of a Storm priest, stood in midair, overlooking the area below. Obvious anger burned in his eyes.

He was the Cardinal of the Church of Storms, Archbishop of the Rorsted Archipelago, senior deacon of the Mandated Punishers: Sea King Jahn Kottman.

At that moment, the battle scenes from just now still lingered in Kottman’s mind. He remembered how each participant had exited:

The angel from the Rose School of Thought had used some method to transmit power from extremely far away. After His goal failed, He had rather easily taken away His gravely injured companion. No one was willing to keep Him behind except that strange monster that had appeared out of nowhere. Jahn Kottman remembered clearly that when that angel retracted His arm, sparse white feathers had grown across the black, sticky surface—emerging from the tops of skull heads, from three-dimensional eyes, and from all sorts of places no one could have imagined. And all of that came only because the Rose School of Thought angel had avoided the glove carrying the aura of the True Creator and used a little power to shatter a copper whistle that had looked completely ordinary.

The evil, strange spirit world creature had entangled the angel for some time before voluntarily retreating into the depths of the spirit world, leaving Jahn Kottman unable to pursue.

The Aurora Order Saint who had opened a Door of Teleportation to arrive did not truly participate much in the battle. After watching in confusion for a while, he picked up the glove carrying the True Creator’s aura and, before the battle ended, opened another Door and left.

The bizarre monster summoned by the copper whistle had no fixed form. It was like an evolution of death itself. It resembled mist, filling the surroundings, yet bore many white feathers stained with faint-yellow grease. Its target was very clear: the Rose School of Thought angel. After the other party fled, it also disappeared from the scene, seemingly in pursuit. Even so, Jahn Kottman, who had already flown to the area from the city carrying a Sealed Artifact, still instinctively felt unwell, as though he had suddenly advanced a long distance along the lengthy journey toward death.

As for the only one without divinity, he had escaped from the area before Jahn Kottman arrived and could not be found afterward.

However, Jahn Kottman recognized him.

An adventurer capable of killing a Sequence 5 Apostle of Desire qualified to have his materials placed upon Sea King’s desk!

Although those materials were of the relatively unimportant sort, Jahn Kottman, having once experienced the Navigator Sequence, still remembered the relevant contents.

His gaze turned toward the cliff, then toward the waves constantly striking the island below. In a low voice, he spoke a name:

“Gehrman Sparrow!”

…

On an uninhabited island in some unknown sea, Klein and Azik’s figures rapidly outlined themselves at the edge of the beach.

Klein was just about to speak when Azik, wearing formal clothes and a top hat, his complexion bronze, suddenly had his brown eyes turn deep, as though they had connected to a silent, dark, deathly world.

He reached into empty air with his right hand. The undeveloped white feathers on Klein’s body all flew out, twisted into a ball, and fell into Azik’s palm.

Azik merely clenched his hand lightly, and those strange feathers vanished. They seemed to have become food for that deathly world inside his eyes.

“Mr. Azik, this was brought by that Numinous Episcopate copper whistle!” Klein first pointed out the fact, then explained in detail, “At the time, the situation was somewhat critical. In order to make everything even more chaotic, I blew that copper whistle, gave the corresponding feather to the messenger, and then a feeling like the Underworld descending appeared. I didn’t stay and left the scene very quickly, but these feathers still grew on me.”

Azik’s soft features inclined gently as he nodded.

“I sensed it from very far away.

“It should not be a normal High-Sequence Beyonder. I suspect it is a byproduct of the Numinous Episcopate’s artificial Death plan.”

So that’s how it is… So it successfully held back that Rose School of Thought angel? Klein thought, feeling somewhat relieved.

Azik glanced left and right before continuing, “I still have matters I must attend to. They can help me awaken more memories.

“When all of that is finished, I will come find you again to retrieve the ring left behind by the ancient Death. My premonition tells me it may send me to the Berserk Sea, or perhaps the Southern Continent.

“Next, you had best go to a great metropolis like Backlund or Trier. In those places, the Rose School of Thought can mobilize only very limited forces and does not dare act wantonly. Of course, the best choices would be headquarters of the major Churches such as Pasu Island, but that would bring other dangers.”

At the end, Azik made a joke, just like an ordinary Loen gentleman. This life seemed to have left the deepest imprint on him. No matter how much of his memory had recovered, obvious traces remained.

If memories are retained, decades probably cannot exert too much influence against more than a thousand years. But starting from a state of remembering nothing, twenty or thirty years is enough to reshape a person… After Mr. Azik fully recovers his memories, will those lives with completely different experiences cause different personalities to emerge? What a profound question. I should have Miss Justice think it over later and “consult” the Psychology Alchemists… While Klein’s thoughts wandered, he saw that Mr. Azik did not probe into what conflict he had with the Rose School of Thought. Secretly relieved, he changed the subject and asked, “Mr. Azik, what do you know about the Mother Tree of Desire?”

Azik shook his head.

“Before seeing the letter you sent, I did not even know of Her existence.”

He doesn’t know the Mother Tree of Desire? Klein was startled for a moment, then asked, “Then what about the Chained God?”

Azik shook his head again, sighing with a smile.

“In ancient times, He—or They—may have had another name.”

True. Mr. Azik had already begun his cycle of losing and recovering memories at the end of the Fourth Epoch, and he has always “wandered” across the Northern Continent. Meanwhile, the Rose School of Thought was born on the Southern Continent during the early Fifth Epoch… Klein nodded and asked no more questions. Azik still had matters to attend to, and after offering several more reminders, he once again took Klein through the spirit world, all the way to some location on the eastern coast of the Northern Continent, where he left him by the sea.

After watching Mr. Azik depart, Klein looked for several seconds at the seawater continuously surging toward the shore. He did not rush to a nearby city. Instead, he directly found an unoccupied cave, arranged a simple ritual, created a wall of spirituality, and sacrificed Creeping Hunger, the Death Knell revolver, Azik’s copper whistle, Travels of Groselle, and the soil stained with Senor’s blood above the gray fog.

Then he walked four steps counterclockwise and entered that mysterious space. Sitting in the seat belonging to The Fool, he summoned over the small metal vial from earlier.

Because it had been stored above the gray fog, the remaining blood in the vial had not coagulated. Klein put on his glove, tucked away the other items, poured out several drops, and smeared them over the dark-brown cover of Travels of Groselle.

Huh… After a new character joined, why didn’t it start a new story from the beginning… Klein looked at the book whose title had not changed and suddenly had a question.

Before he could think about it, what he saw blurred. It was as though countless transparent creatures were hidden in the surroundings.

Everything soon became clear. Klein discovered that he was sitting on a long wooden bench by the street.

It was where he had left earlier.

“So this has a save-and-load function?” Klein joked inwardly. He took out the soil stained with Senor’s blood, casually broke off a branch, and attempted divination.

Following the result he obtained, he went all the way out of the city and into the nearby mountains and forests. At the edge of a stream, he found Blood Admiral, who was still unconscious.

At that moment, only a dozen or so minutes had passed since the battle earlier!

The exaggerated wounds at Senor’s neck and across his chest and abdomen had already contracted visibly, looking much more recovered. Such vitality did not seem human at all.

In another fifteen to thirty minutes, this Blood Admiral should wake. In another one or two hours, he would be able to move normally.

This is a Zombie. This is a Wraith!

Originally, you had a chance to be rescued by your organization’s angel and demigod. In the end, your blood happened to splatter onto Travels of Groselle and made you this book’s “prisoner,” giving me the time to calmly deal with you… Of course, that also helped you avoid the aftershocks of a demigod battle, so you didn’t die on the spot. I don’t know whether that counts as lucky or unlucky… As Klein muttered inwardly and observed, one hand tightly gripped Death Knell while the other reached toward Senor’s neck and removed the pure-silver necklace there.

The necklace had a pendant of the same color shaped like an ancient coin. Both sides were covered with mysterious patterns and symbolic markings. Inscribed upon it was a line of ancient Hermes:

“How lucky you are now is how unlucky you will be afterward.”

This is Blood Admiral’s mystical item that increases luck? What a pity. Even a demigod couldn’t make me more fortunate, so this probably can’t either… I’ll sell it for money later, or ask Miss Messenger whether I can use it to pay my debt… Klein did not immediately put the necklace away. He placed it directly on a nearby rock.

He was afraid it might have an unknown negative effect that would influence his next operation.

Then Klein focused all his attention on manipulating Blood Admiral’s Spirit Body Threads.

He wanted to make his first long-term marionette, so he could summarize the acting principles of a Marionettist.

And no marionette could be more convenient to carry around than a Wraith!

One second. Two seconds. Three seconds. In only about ten seconds, Klein completed initial control.

Senor’s spiritual intuition produced a dangerous premonition, and his body began to struggle noticeably. However, because he was gravely injured and sluggish, he still could not wake.

Time passed second by second. By the fourth minute, Klein exhaled without hiding it.

At that moment, Blood Admiral Senor opened his eyes, stood up, faced him, and placed a hand over his chest in a coordinated bow.

“Good morning, sir. How may I be of service?”