Chapter 266: An Inexplicable Smile

Chapter 266: An Inexplicable Smile

In the barren fields of the suburbs, the old butler Finkel was fleeing at top speed.

He had lost his hat. His graying hair, once combed with meticulous precision, hung messily down, and his clothes were covered in mud.

Huff, huff… He paused briefly, gasping as he looked behind him. Seeing no one there, he felt slightly reassured.

But when he turned his head, preparing to change direction, he discovered that at some unknown point, a figure had appeared before him.

The figure wore a hooded classical robe. Black eyes were hidden in shadow, and the face was blank and expressionless.

Finkel’s pupils shrank. He opened his mouth at once, attempting to recite a word in ancient Hermes, only to discover in shock that his nose was disappearing, and his voice was gone.

Despair immediately appeared in his expression. Then his entire person became like a stain in the void, wiped clean by a cloth, leaving not the slightest remnant behind.

…

Achoo! Achoo! Cough! Cough!

Facing Mr. A’s imminent lethal attack, Klein had been infected with disease. His head hurt, his body burned, and it was difficult for him to manipulate flames for a jump.

At that moment, he could not even create an air bullet.

Fear of the unknown result occupied his heart. The danger premonition from his Clown abilities allowed him to “see” himself abruptly splitting apart and disintegrating into the smallest motes of light, perhaps leaving him without even a chance to resurrect.

In an instant, Klein reached into his pocket and grasped an item.

This was the response plan he had considered in advance for the most dangerous situation!

No matter how rushed things were, a Magician still made certain preparations and would not panic helplessly in battle.

Klein took out Azik’s copper whistle, brought it to his lips, and, amid sneezing and coughing, blew it with difficulty!

Without any preceding movement, he saw through spirit vision white bones surge out like a fountain, swiftly forming the enormous messenger whose eye sockets burned with black flames.

At that moment, the book before Mr. A also stopped flipping, and the distant voice abruptly ceased.

A burst of greenish light surged out. The nearly four-meter-tall skeletal messenger split apart at once, cracking into countless pure motes of light.

Behind it, the force that had kept Klein spinning in place collapsed first, and the figure in the black double-breasted formal coat was immediately enveloped, turning into a statue seemingly cast from yellow sand before being blown away by the wind.

But what scattered were white specks, like paper torn to its absolute limit.

Klein’s figure appeared on another side, half kneeling on the ground, coughing loudly beyond his control.

Had the skeletal messenger not blocked the blow first, he would not have had time to briefly suppress the disease and use paper figurine substitution!

And after this sequence of exertion, his illness had worsened, leaving him almost without the ability to resist.

Just then, Mr. A, whose lethal strike had failed, suddenly began coughing too—and more violently than Klein.

He painfully prostrated himself on the ground, bloody foam pouring from the corners of his mouth.

Cough, cough, cough!

He coughed up a heap of shattered organs and writhing flesh, then opened his mouth with difficulty, attempting to lick them back in and forcibly eat them down.

What’s happening? Klein was momentarily stunned.

But that did not stop him from suppressing his cough, raising his right hand, and aiming his revolver at Mr. A’s head.

In that instant, he vaguely gained some understanding: Mr. A’s physical injuries could be treated and maintained through flesh magic, but the shock and backlash inflicted upon his mind and spirituality could not be repaired that way.

Mr. A should have switched to another Beyonder ability and slowly healed the injuries to his spirit body. But he had been driven by hatred, forcefully suppressed them, and chased after Klein. After continuous expenditure and repeated use of Beyonder abilities beyond his own burden, his condition had worsened and erupted all at once.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Klein fired all the bullets inside his revolver. Brass, pale-gold, silver-white, and other streams of light swiftly crossed the short distance between them.

To his regret, during the process, he could not restrain his sneezing and coughing. Not all the bullets struck. Only two hit Mr. A: one drilled into his forehead, and one into his torso.

Sizzle!

A burning sound rang out. But Mr. A’s head seemed to have no bones, only a combination of rotten flesh. The pale-gold bullet sank deep inside and soon stopped, unable to inflict fatal damage, and could only bloom with sunlight-like golden radiance.

Mr. A lifted his neck slightly. Inside the hole in his head, flesh was writhing madly.

He was not dead. He had not even suffered a heavy blow.

He had once been a Rose Bishop with tenacious vitality!

Seeing this, Klein made a decisive choice. He turned and ran, no longer attempting to attack, while Mr. A breathed hoarsely and lowered his head again, licking the scraps of flesh and organs he had coughed up.

Sneezing and coughing alternated. Klein staggered as he ran, sometimes tumbling to the ground.

Finally, he reached the outermost edge of the area. It was a cliff more than fifty meters high.

Beneath the cliff, the somewhat murky Tasok River surged onward, broad yet calm.

Klein did not hesitate. He pushed off with his feet and jumped out.

He fell rapidly, feeling the intense weightlessness brought by free fall.

His body tore through the air as he tried to adjust his posture midair into a standard diving position.

Cough! Achoo!

The disease interrupted his tucked three-and-a-half somersault halfway. The opening of his body and the adjustment of his palms also failed to fall into place.

With a slap, he struck the surface of the water and became a thin sheet of white paper.

The paper figurine quickly grew wet, half sinking and half floating.

Not far away beneath the water, Klein’s figure took shape, trembling slightly.

His clothes were already soaked. The remaining paper inside them, along with the banknotes in his wallet, were the same.

After putting distance between myself and Mr. A, the disease eased… Klein thought with lingering fear.

Had his coughing and sneezing not calmed somewhat at the last moment, he would not even have had time to use paper figurine substitution. He would have smashed into the water hard enough for his organs to bleed and died on the spot. Of course, if that had been the cause of death, he felt he would likely be able to resurrect.

As he kicked through the water, Klein created an invisible hollow tube in his mouth, extending it above the surface to bring himself fresh air.

This was the Magician’s “underwater breathing” performance!

Klein inhaled through his mouth and exhaled through his nose, preventing foul air from polluting the tube and instead sending it straight into the water.

At the same time, he quietly swam toward the bank, hoping to avoid Mr. A’s pursuit this way.

Unfortunately, this isn’t a city. The Faceless’s abilities can’t be used effectively. Otherwise, once I got away, Mr. A definitely wouldn’t be able to find me again… As he swam, that thought instinctively flashed through Klein’s mind.

And from that thought, he suddenly remembered a problem: Mr. A had previously used Beyonder abilities related to wind control.

Generally speaking, that belonged to the Lord of Storms pathway… And the characteristics of that pathway, aside from wind, also include water, especially proficiency in underwater activity… underwater activity… Shepherds are too comprehensive, too terrifying! As his thoughts flickered, Klein’s heart almost stopped.

He abruptly swam upward, no longer trying to conceal himself!

The moment he emerged from the water and neared the shore, he saw Mr. A’s beautiful, almost demonic face. It was covered with fish-like scales, and gill slits had opened in it.

Floating on the water in his bright-red robe, Mr. A’s lips curved upward. His eyes were filled with hatred that seemed almost tangible.

Fight! I can only fight! I have to hold out until the Churches’ reinforcements arrive, or until Mr. Azik escapes his predicament! With the disease easing, Klein lifted his right hand without hesitation, preparing to snap his fingers.

At that moment, both of them looked into the air at the same time, almost by instinct.

There, a figure with feminine softness was rapidly outlined.

The figure wore a hood and a dark robe, gazing blankly at Mr. A.

Then Klein saw Mr. A seem to turn into a pencil sketch, quickly erased by a rubber. He was utterly unable to resist, leaving only a gaze of confusion mixed with unwillingness, madness hiding despair, carved into the mind of the only spectator present.

This… What kind of level is this! What kind of strength! The thought had only just formed in Klein’s mind when he discovered that the figure had turned her head and was looking at him.

It was a beautiful face, yet it held not the slightest expression. The black eyes were dark and deep, but lacked spirituality.

Just as Klein’s heart pounded wildly and he thought he too would silently vanish, with no telling whether he would have a chance to resurrect, the woman’s lips slowly moved. They curled upward, revealing a smile.

A smile? Klein was stunned, suspecting he was dreaming.

Before he could recover, the figure quickly faded and disappeared from where she had been. The sounds of water flowed quietly around him.

Bewildered and confused, Klein swam to the bank and climbed up. He looked around and discovered that this place was exceptionally remote. There were no roads and no living people, only the somewhat murky river flowing on without change.

It ended just like that? Mr. A died just like that? Who was that lady just now, so powerful that Mr. A didn’t even have time to scream… And she even smiled at me… smiled… Could that have been Her? But among the three Churches, aside from figures at the level of the Pope, where would there be angels walking upon the earth? And figures at the Pope’s level clearly wouldn’t be in Backlund… Klein could not believe he had escaped danger just like this.

After sinking his mind down, he finally found a measure of reality:

“She should be a powerhouse dispatched by the Church. She arrived in time and successfully saved me.

“If I hadn’t informed Miss Justice in advance, they might not have had time to act, and I very likely would have died at Mr. A’s hands today, with no telling whether resurrection would have been possible…

“Mm. There is also the factor that I held on and dragged the battle out until now.

“Not bad…”

Klein breathed out in relief, coughed twice, and began searching for a way out.

…

“Exile!”

The man wearing a golden mask pointed at Azik Eggers and threw his figure into the void, banishing him to no one knew where.

Immediately afterward, he turned to face Ince Zangwill, who was frowning at him.

“There’s no time. We have no way to resolve him that quickly! We have to hide this place as soon as possible. Exile was the only option! Or do you want the Church people to discover our secrets?” the golden-masked man said angrily in a low voice.

Ince Zangwill put away his doubts and nodded. He turned and came beside 0-08, which had stopped writing, and grabbed it.

His figure was somewhat unsteady. Around his feet lay the trousers that had nearly been torn apart during the battle.

…

Inside Red Rose Manor, Prince Edessak sat beside the floor-to-ceiling window, his eyes exceptionally hollow.

“Your Highness, please hurry,” a voice sounded beside him.

Edessak’s eyes came alive again. He drew a breath, picked up the revolver from the table, and pressed it against his temple. Inside it was a bullet capable of annihilating spirit bodies.

He turned his head and gazed longingly at the golf course outside, and at the horses walking there.

Bang!

He pulled the trigger.