Chapter 11: Countdown

Chapter 11: Countdown

You did well… Faced with Amon’s “praise,” Klein forced out a smile and answered politely, “Thank you.”

To be honest, compared to praise, he would rather hear curses. That would at least mean he was already very close to success.

Of course, Klein suspected that even if he truly escaped, Amon would not fly into a rage. Judging from the personality this God of Mischief had displayed, He would very likely find it extremely interesting and exciting on the one hand, while unavoidably feeling a little frustrated and disappointed on the other—eager to begin the next round as soon as possible.

“Thinking to use Door to interfere with me is a very great improvement.” Amon smiled, not caring at all. “But do you not think that when I am opening a Door, I will be in a comparatively vigilant state, and that it is actually not so easy for an accident to affect me?”

Klein thought for a moment and answered seriously, “That was what I thought at first. But later, I felt that you would grasp this state of mind in me and believe that I wouldn’t dare act while you were opening a Door. At such a moment, making an attempt might produce an unexpected effect.”

Actually doing something when others believed one would not was also a strategy.

In his previous life, Klein had encountered similar levels of mind-game reasoning and had been wound around until his head hurt.

“What if I also thought of that layer?” Amon smiled and pushed the lower edge of His monocle with His knuckle.

At the same time, the surviving marionettes belonging to Klein successively pulled crystal monocles out of their bodies or from the void and placed them over their right eyes, all looking neatly toward Klein.

The sight made Klein’s scalp faintly tingle. He discovered that his connection with the marionettes had been instantly severed.

“Although you have made progress, failure always requires some punishment.” Amon smiled, turned, and walked toward the church.

With each step He took, those marionettes revealed smiles one after another and stiffly collapsed. This caused Klein’s soul to be torn again and again. The blood vessels at his temples visibly swelled and contracted.

Enduring the pain, Klein stood in place and took a good while before barely recovering.

During this process, although he had remained in the depths of darkness, he neither encountered attacks from terrifying monsters nor transformed into a Concealed state.

Amon stole the hidden divine power inside this city-state at some unknown point? If I try to kill myself, even the thought would definitely be stolen… I still didn’t prepare enough. I don’t understand Amon well enough. I failed to take the things He had previously stolen into account… I truly didn’t expect Him to release the “daylight” He stole from the Ruins of the Battle of Gods… What else has He stolen and stored inside Himself in the past? I have no way of knowing, and cannot make targeted preparations… Is that monocle the container storing stolen things, and also a part of Amon Himself? Is that why every time He parasitizes someone, He can take out a monocle… Klein rubbed his temples, walked back into the church, looked at Amon standing before the door of light, and asked seemingly casually, “Why do you have so many monocles? Where do you usually keep them?”

Amon stroked the monocle over His right eye and laughed indifferently.

“Why do you not ask me why each avatar has eyes, and where I usually keep them?”

“…I understand.” Klein nodded in realization.

Amon turned His gaze back to the door of light, where the vortex had not yet calmed. In a conversational tone, He said, “I keep feeling that the essence of this attempt of yours was a large-scale preparation, not an actual try.

“What little actions did you carry out during that process?”

Klein considered briefly, then answered with his smile unchanged, “Guess.”

“I do have some guesses. Do you think I guessed correctly?” Amon pinched the upper and lower edges of the monocle and asked back with great interest.

“Perhaps you did, perhaps you didn’t.” Klein gave no clear answer at all. Cooperatively, he walked to Amon’s side and watched as He again reached out and pressed His hand against that pale white door of light.

Ripples once more spread across the door of light, growing increasingly violent and increasingly exaggerated.

After a dozen or so seconds, the ripples dyed the surroundings, causing the door of light to swell to twice its original size.

Amon glanced at Klein, signaling him to step forward.

Klein instinctively looked back, sweeping his gaze around the church.

Outside the area illuminated by the leather lantern, some Beyonder characteristics left behind by the mutated monsters were faintly glowing. Not all of them had been Beyonders while alive. After ordinary people transformed into monsters, much of their power came from darkness, from depravity, and did not belong to themselves, so no characteristics separated from them.

“I nearly forgot.” Amon, who followed his gaze and looked around, suddenly shook His head and smiled.

As soon as He finished speaking, clusters of Beyonder characteristics floated up and entered His body on their own, merging with Him, leaving only a small number still in place.

“Most of those who voluntarily transformed into monsters were Beyonders of the Apprentice pathway who could enter the city-state’s dark side, as well as their families,” Amon said casually, withdrawing His gaze.

Even if they are Beyonder characteristics from a neighboring pathway, directly “eating” them like this should cause problems, shouldn’t it? Isn’t one supposed to jump only to a higher Sequence of a neighboring pathway? It can still be downward compatible? Klein was rather stunned by what he saw and asked in confusion, “Won’t that accumulate madness?”

This was not merely an issue of accumulating madness. Klein suspected that if he tried the same thing, there was a significant chance he would become half-mad on the spot.

“Others would.” Amon smiled. “I will not.”

What a Bug… Klein could not help sighing inwardly.

Then the distance between him and the door of light disappeared.

By instinct, he forgot the remaining Beyonder characteristics of the Death pathway and entered the mutated door of light together with Amon.

Endless, profound darkness and writhing linear lights twisted and mixed together, giving Klein the feeling of plummeting weightlessly.

After a dozen or so seconds, he discovered that he and Amon had appeared in a plaza. The dim yellow light of the leather lantern seemed blocked by an invisible force and could illuminate only half its previous range.

Lightning flashed high above, brightening the surroundings all at once.

With the help of that lightning, Klein saw incomplete statues standing around the plaza. Some had their hands bound behind their backs. Some had their bodies wrapped in thorny roses. Some resembled mummies. All of them gave the direct impression of “restraint.”

“This was originally a city-state that believed in the King of Mutants.” Amon acted like a qualified tour guide, introducing the scenic spot to Klein. “They were quite interesting. Usually, they practiced temperance and silence, almost like ascetics. But once they encountered prey or a specific moment, a desire for bloodshed and slaughter would erupt. You may imagine that, on the night of the full moon, this was a city of werewolves walking everywhere.”

So the original philosophy of the mutants also included temperance… Later, all of them were led astray by the Mother Tree of Desire… Klein used the next flash of lightning to look around a little more, then asked thoughtfully, “Was the King of Mutants’ image close to that of a mummy?”

“No. Though He was an ugly, twisted male, He liked to wrap Himself in thorns and roses with barbs.” Amon sneered.

…Klein seized the chance to ask, “What kind of statue would your believers worship?

“In mysticism, is your symbol a clock plus Worms of Time?”

Amon scratched His chin.

“Theoretically speaking, all my believers are myself. There is no need to go through the trouble of erecting statues.”

All my believers are myself… Good thing I now have Danitz as a blessed… Klein suddenly discovered that he and Amon were rather similar in certain aspects.

Of course, when I say “my believers are myself,” it belongs to a comedy. When Amon says “all my believers are myself,” it is a horror story. The styles are still quite different… Klein finally mocked himself inwardly.

As Amon walked forward, He continued, “However, in my father’s era, quite a few people would follow and believe in me. Some started from the name Angel of Time and used clock-related symbols to shape my idol. Some followed the title God of Mischief and used a crow covered in mysterious patterns as my image. Others combined the two.”

At this point, Amon, wearing the monocle, suddenly turned His head, glanced at Klein, and curved His lips.

“We are less than three days’ travel from the final destination.”

In other words, I have only three days left… Klein nearly inhaled sharply. The psychological pressure abruptly increased, making him feel as if his nerves were about to snap.

He had still not judged what Amon’s true purpose was in playing this game, nor had he discovered any sign of the other party driving him to do something. That meant he could not grasp the key and could not find a genuine opportunity to escape.

The performance of Amon’s avatar just now had made him understand that without truly preparing, he might not last even ten seconds before Him.

Amid rapidly flashing thoughts, Klein fell silent and followed Amon out of the plaza filled with traces of destruction.

…

In Pritz Harbor, where the streets were sparsely populated, pedestrians came and went hurriedly, and many houses were covered in scorch marks, the Queen of Mysteries Bernadette, her chestnut hair tied up, placed the newspaper in her hands onto the table.

The front page of the Tasok Newspaper carried the heavy news of the king’s assassination and declared that the assassins came from Feysac or Intis.

“This did not prevent disaster, nor did it intensify it…” Bernadette murmured, her expression somewhat grave.

After thinking for a while, she lifted the tablecloth spread across the table, wrapped it up, then released her fingers and let it unfold on its own.

This time, the coffee cup, pen holder, newspaper, and other items inside the tablecloth vanished. In their place appeared ritual-related objects such as silver candles.

Bernadette immediately held a ritual to summon Gehrman Sparrow’s messenger.

As a collaborator, she believed it was necessary to ask about the other party’s condition and see whether there was still anything that required her help.

No sooner had the ritual ended than, from the swelling candlelight, Reinette Tinekerr walked out, wearing a gloomy, complicated long dress, carrying four blond-haired, red-eyed heads, and with nothing above her neck.

Bernadette’s eyelid twitched imperceptibly. She then picked up the letter and gold coin she had prepared long ago and handed them to the messenger.

One of Reinette Tinekerr’s heads bit down on the letter and gold coin, while the other heads examined the Queen of Mysteries for several seconds.

She withdrew her gaze and walked into the void. But just as Bernadette was about to put away the tablecloth, this Miss Messenger suddenly appeared again.

Two of her blond-haired, red-eyed heads spoke one after another:

“He…” “has disappeared…”