Sharon opened her eyes, startled awake from her sleep.
Crimson moonlight filtered through the gauze curtains, casting shadows that danced gracefully around them. In a daze, the night seemed to awaken a sense of humanity, standing tall on the horizon and at the foot of the earth, silently overlooking the sleeping city.
This was the scene that greeted Sharon's eyes. A cold wind brushed her face, and her mind was just beginning to clear after leaving the warm bed. Sharon's azure pupils immediately narrowed to needles. The enhanced night vision after her slight "werewolf transformation" allowed her to see every tiny movement in every corner of the room.
The fireplace had gone out at some point, and the once warm and peaceful room was now eerily cold, just like a corner of a dream she had glimpsed in her hazy state.
Sharon had never had such a vivid dream before, and even after waking up, she could still recall a great deal of detail.
She pushed aside the blankets hanging on her chest and was about to get off the bed when she noticed that the faint candlelight seeping in through the crack in the door was suddenly flickering.
There was no need to open the door to look; Sharon's spiritual intuition had already sketched out the complete image of that shadow in her mind.
"Sherlock?"
Although she had known Mr. V's real name for a long time, Sharon continued to use the pseudonym that Klein Moretti had used when he temporarily resided in Backlund, for some reason.
After a long while, a muffled voice, not very clear, came from behind the door.
"Excuse me, I sensed something unusual just now."
After a two-second pause, the voice became real, and the swaying shadow became completely still, but the feeling of being restrained due to the dullness and hesitation became even stronger.
"Mr. A is inspecting the shrine, and Jerry Zarathustra has gone to the military headquarters. We suspect that the unusual activity just now was not accidental."
"It's a curse," Sharon asserted.
She didn't care about Klein's reason for bothering her in the middle of the night, just as she casually opened the door, letting more candlelight into her bedroom, amplifying the "trickster's" momentary unease through the shadows, reflecting it on the bedroom wall and into her eyes.
The sudden eye contact caught the young demigod off guard, and he even forgot the urgent matter at hand. His absent-mindedness was misunderstood by the girl, who was not good at expressing or interpreting things, and so the rambling conversation continued.
"The body is a prison of the mind, and the world is a prison of the body." Sharon avoided the young man's blank, unintentionally empty gaze. "This is the original doctrine of the 'Rose School,' and also the key to playing the role."
"However, just as every path has two sides, our dogma can also be distorted and exploited by those who pursue unbridled heresy."
"The widespread mass hysteria and hallucinations are very likely a curse from an angel."
Sharon's insight lingered in the air, and Klein paused for another second before quickly picking it up.
He gathered Sharon's sharing, forced himself to focus on important matters, and urgently drew upon more obscure and extraordinary knowledge from the depths of his memory, combining it with the content of the sharing to stabilize his mind.
A curse from an "alien" angel?
Here, at the foot of the "Red Angels'" temporary military headquarters?
No, that's not right. Unless the "Bound God" of the "Rose School" comes in person, any unrestrained angel who dares to lay a finger on Morphala will only face death...
The Creator's sword would not tolerate such blatant offense. They value honor more than anyone else, and even the most irrational "indulgence" would not be foolish enough to provoke the "Red Angel" and His Legion...
Klein's thin, angular face was temporarily hidden in the darkness, and he glanced around with the help of the eyes of the scattered puppets before whispering his guess.
"Could it be a mistake? The Ministry of Military Affairs only sent bailiffs to appease the crowd. No one mutated without cause, and no civilians died silently after their spirits were drained. They believe this is at most a disturbance, not a premeditated attack."
"perhaps..."
Sharon nodded slowly, not in agreement.
However, since there is no concrete evidence at the moment, and no one has actually died as a result of the strange event, she doesn't know how to get others to take it seriously.
Furthermore... the doll lady, who keeps her heart closed off, uses her years of silence to hone her skills, listening to the faint breaths in the air to judge other people's thoughts.
Yes, in a few hours, they would be leaving Moorefall in the early morning. Whatever happened here after that would be irrelevant to them at this moment... Sharon was convinced that Klein had similar thoughts, and her desire to investigate gradually sank. Her bare feet, which were on the floor, silently turned away, and her hands rested on the edge of the door.
"By the way, what did you see in your dream?"
"I've heard that everyone's dreams are different, and the bailiffs are collecting these dreams, which may help in investigating their origins."
Sharon lowered her hand from the door panel, pressed her feet together again, and the hesitation on her face didn't seem fake to Klein.
What did you dream about?
It's quite rare, Miss Sharon actually took the initiative to ask a question during the conversation... After a moment of recollection, Klein recounted without reservation.
"A moon, a moon... enveloped in a blood-red ocean, with a surface that looks viscous... disgusting."
"Only the moon?"
"No, there are others, but I can't identify what many of them represent, such as giant thorny vines, exaggerated towering trees, black frozen oceans, burning crystals, wastelands covered with huge rocks, and craters covered with scorched earth. I don't quite understand what they symbolize..."
Klein had never wished he had long hair so he could completely cover his face and eyes with it, without having to strain to activate the Joker's abilities for fear of revealing even the slightest hint of unease.
He didn't understand all the imagery, but there was a part that he couldn't bring himself to pretend to be stupid about, even if he wanted to deceive himself.
As far as he knew, apart from the most outstanding demigods and angels among the apprentices of the Abraham family in the Fourth Age, no one else in this world had ever reached the atmosphere.
Russell may have tried, but he left no clear record, and at least Klein has not seen it.
Moreover, no study in astronomy or astrology has specifically described the surface of the red moon... The red moon is the domain of the goddess of the night, but his intuition told him that the red moon that appeared in his dream was definitely not the crimson moon he was familiar with.Although his time as the "Night Watcher" was short, he had read the "Revelation of the Night" in detail and would not make the low-level mistake of attributing the illusions created by the evil god to the goddess of night.
Craters, wilderness... these are all landscapes on the moon's surface. The black, icy oceans and burning crystals likely represent the "abyss," as for the thorny vines and towering trees...
Not long ago, Klein had destroyed a "Tree of Flesh and Blood," and he could never forget what that thing looked like.
It really is a curse!
Could it be that a new "Tree of Flesh and Blood" has appeared?
Star Plateau is the stronghold of the "Rose School." The "Rose School" hates the people of the Northern Continent, but they also hate the people of Trensost. They do not want either side to win. Coupled with the incomprehensible thinking of the "Indulgence Faction," they might indeed do something like summoning an evil god for a suicide attack to prevent either side from gaining the high ground...
"It's the 'Primordial Moon' and the 'Mother Tree of Desire'," Sharon said, uttering the two forbidden names for Klein.
Somewhat disappointed, she shifted her gaze to the other side, avoiding Klein's possible notice, while also concealing the doubt in her eyes.
The fact that Mr. V, the divine messenger, led everyone in the archipelago to thwart the "Rose School's" conspiracy and destroyed a blasphemous plant that had not yet taken shape was no secret within the Empire, and Sharon had naturally heard about it.
The fading crimson outside the window hung quietly in a corner of the sky, casting its color evenly across every inch of the world. Its light filtered through the swaying gauze curtains, forming wispy, scattered lines that weaved through the shadows and darkness of the room, yet tacitly bypassed the two people standing together.
Sharon knew that Klein was not entirely ignorant of the symbols in the dream. The two people, so close to each other, were separated by an unimaginable barrier, neither daring to step forward and test the strength of the barrier, only cowardly allowing the barrier to remain there for the time being.
After a brief pause, without dwelling on what the craters, icy seas, and giant trees represented, Sharon began to recount what she had seen in her hallucinations.
"I dreamt of the day the highlands fell."
"I dreamt that my teacher was beheaded by the 'Angel of War.' His soul didn't fall into the spirit world, nor was it taken by the 'underworld' and the 'Grim Reaper' as the Byron people claimed. Instead, it fell into the hands of the 'Mother Tree of Desire,' just like our god, pierced by thorns formed from a vicious curse, tormented by an invisible, twisted pollution, forever and ever…"
"I saw Him being tormented and heard His cries for help."
Sharon rarely spoke so much in one breath. Klein wanted to comfort her, but didn't know where to begin.
He gave a somewhat bitter smile, and could only try to distract Sharon.
"You witnessed the 'Princess of the Highlands'..."
Klein ultimately couldn't bring himself to say "death," even though the word wasn't complicated to pronounce, consisting of only two syllables.
"I didn't," Sharon said calmly, in her usual doll-like indifference.
"Friedrich Zarathustra… my grandfather covered my eyes, and when my teacher was shot down by the 'Angel of War' and walked up to Him, I could see nothing."
"When He released His hand from my body, the teacher's body had already disappeared."
"After that, the army of Trensost and the legion of the 'War Angels' withdrew from the highlands, leaving my homeland to the Northern Continent people who were waiting around, eyeing me covetously. I was also taken to Intis by my grandfather and never returned."
In other words, Miss Sharon did not witness the "Highland Princess" being killed... Considering what the "Red Angel" had deliberately shown him the day before, about the fate of Einhorn and the ancestors of the Soren family, Klein suspected that the "Highland Princess" was also not completely dead.
He was likely sealed in a crystal by the "Red Angels" using some kind of secret technique that ordinary people could not understand, just like the two "Hunter" pathway angels of the Fourth Age, or perhaps he was imprisoned somewhere.
The Creator dislikes indiscriminate killing. Except for a few ancient gods, either because of the necessity of recycling or to destroy the beliefs of other races, the Creator rarely exterminates a race or belief.
Just as the title "Father of All Beings" was given to the Creator by the vampires and the Church of the Earth Mother, this legendary deity, even after being betrayed and tormented by pain and depravity, did not show a tyrannical side.
His madness was always confined within the framework He set for Himself while He still possessed reason, as can be seen from the encounters with dragons, giants, and elves; the "Queen of Calamity" and the "Angel of Justice" are the best evidence of this.
It is very likely that the "Highland Princess" was spared her life by the "Red Angel" for this reason, waiting for the right opportunity to be brought out to replace the "Bound God" who was to be executed, in order to win over the rebellious hearts of the Highlanders and finally help the Creator take over another piece of land.
For so many years, the "Archangel" has never told Miss Sharon about this possibility, preferring to endure Miss Sharon's resentment and estrangement rather than reveal the truth. It seems that the "Highland Princess" is probably involved in a key part of the Creator's plan... Klein also chose to remain silent.
He suddenly remembered the letter lying quietly in his trench coat pocket.
Before resting today, Mr. Azik's messenger delivered a reply. His teacher emphasized several locations and names in the letter, hoping that Klein could pass this information on to the "Red Angel" as a pledge of loyalty.
In addition, Azik extended an invitation in the letter, hoping that Klein would join him.
His personal affairs seemed to be unresolved, but his plan to gain control of a portion of the Bairan people and further take over the entire West Bairan was imminent, forcing him to temporarily put aside his personal feelings and devote all his energy to more important work.
However, out of personal reasons, Azik did not completely abandon that private matter, and that is why he wanted to invite his students to get more help.
If my guess is correct, Mr. Azik's experience is quite similar to that of the "Highland Princess"... Grasping the common point, Klein decided that he could not continue this dangerous topic. Pretending to hesitate, he was still struggling with what to say when he suddenly heard a crisp sound coming from the direction of the living room behind him, followed by a muffled thud as the door hit the door frame.
Klein paused for a moment, then raised his head slightly, nodded a little, and said seriously.
"Jerry is back."
...
A dozen or so dragons swooped down in unison, but what was even more terrifying than their breath was the roar of the cannons firing in unison.
After a few short minutes of bombardment, once the dragons' shadows disappeared into the sky, the taxi drivers who had barely survived, hiding behind the hills, shakily got up. They checked again and again to make sure that the ferocious beasts soaring in the sky had really left before crawling out of the trenches to collect the bodies of their comrades who had been blasted apart by artillery fire.
As for extraordinary individuals like Leonard, they have other tasks.
"Old man, this is even more powerful than you said. Are you sure you're not mistaken?"
While comforting the poor soldier whose mind was being tormented to the point of collapse by the dragon's "mind breath," Leonard asked in a low voice.
Before he could complain any further, the "cohabitant's" aged voice rang out, full of impatience.
"Ha, I'm not senile yet."
The old angel observed his surroundings through Leonard's eyes. He did not look at the carnage on the Rune army's position, but instead cast his gaze to a more distant area, traversing a long distance to peer at a target that ordinary people could not see.
The two positions were 15 kilometers apart. The army of Terensust did not intend to set up another visual barrier supported by illusion. The entire camp was openly exposed on the plain, with only scattered sentries around it preventing spying.
This gave Palez Zoroaster the opportunity to find out more details.
"However, I didn't expect that their style would still be so wild, unchanged for hundreds of years, but the speed of their progress would exceed my imagination."
When Pales caught a glimpse of a giant maintenance crew carrying a large-caliber cannon rushing through the Trensost camp, and a spider-shaped turret being repaired by a "craftsman" under a sunshade, the corner of the well-traveled angel's eye twitched involuntarily.
He shared part of his vision with Leonard, and the "Requiem Master," who was about to continue his rant, fell silent upon seeing this.
It took Leonard a long time to recover.
"Old man," he said quietly, "you told me that at most we would encounter Wind Chosen Ones or Ocean Singers with flintlock pistols, but the situation has completely exceeded our expectations."
"It also surpasses Augustus's," Pales silently added.
For over a thousand years, for various reasons, He had never dared to set foot on the land of the Southern Continent. When the Northern and Southern Continents clashed last time, He went to take a look and was only surprised to find that years of technological blockade had not restricted the technological development of Ternsost, which left Him with a wrong impression.
The royal family and church of the Northern Continent have long maintained a policy of blockade, so even if there are some frictions between the two sides, they are mostly skirmishes between scattered forces, and not much can be seen.
The separation between North and South has lasted too long, so long that the people of the North, who have deliberately closed themselves off, have completely accepted their own imagined scenarios and are unwilling to accept facts and the truth. This is one of the root causes of their defeat in the war.
"Old man, what do you think will happen in the end?"
Having been in the Southern Continent for some time now, Leonard is no longer naively doubting the outcome of the war. His focus has gradually shifted from the victory and defeat, which are similar to right and wrong, to the profound question of the future direction of the post-war world.
"You know the answer yourself," Pales replied casually, showing little interest in explaining to his "cohabitant."
He was already exhausted just dealing with the "Amon" that could emerge from the shadows at any moment and was growing exponentially, so he had no energy left to care about the outcome of a small war.
In His view, this war was nothing more than a contest among the gods over the division of anchors and the allocation of benefits, ultimately remaining a game on the chessboard, a view differing from that of many demigods.
It's not that His vision was limited to this, but rather that He lived for such a long time that He saw things more clearly than others.
Everything that happened on the Starry Plateau was just the prelude; the real showdown was yet to come.
Thinking of this, Pales withdrew his gaze, and all the spiritual energy that had spread out returned to Leonard's body.
In fact, He already had this idea when the news of the supposed death of the "General of Hell" came out.
Azik Eggers reappeared, killing the "Cult of the Spirits'" henchmen at sea. The news of the disappearance of the "Black Tulip" was deliberately released by the Church of the God of Knowledge and Wisdom. They also subtly hinted to other forces that were interested in Ludwell's death that the shadow of the Ternsost was hidden in it.
If all the reports are true, then it can only mean one thing.
Unlike his father, the son of "Emperor of the Underworld" Salinger was not mad. He had a clear understanding of the situation and was well aware of Byron's predicament. He intended to seek refuge with the true Creator with whom there was no way to confront him.
Would the true Creator accept such a surrender? The answer is yes.
Compared to the dangerous signals ignited by Azik Eggers, the fighting on the Star Plateau was utterly insignificant in Pales's eyes.course, the possibility of clues about the ownership of the "Grim Reaper's" legacy was not something Pales would take too seriously. What truly aroused his tension was what he and Leonard had seen and heard during the ten days of war.
The military creations that perfectly combine alchemy and mechanics show that the people of Ternsost are not only not lagging behind, but in some areas they have even surpassed the technological level of the northern continent's countries. The protective gear and weapons designed for non-human races... all of this reminded Pales of a name that had become blurred and could no longer be mentioned, otherwise it would attract attention.
As a witness to the history of conflict in the Fourth Age, He was aware of most of the love and hatred among the gods and angels, if not all of them. After analyzing the situation, He found that this being, who could no longer be addressed by name, had no old grudges with the true Creator, and even had few conflicts of interest with Him. On the contrary, the two had a brief period of cooperation.
Perhaps, their collaboration, which appeared brief to the world, was never truly over?
Pales dared not continue his reverie. He gathered his thoughts, his consciousness carefully hiding behind Leonard's beautiful emerald green eyes, watching the entire sky return to darkness from dawn, as the deeper night silently pressed down.
In the distance from the Rune's position, several dragons that had flown back to linger and perform observation and surveillance duties were casually crushed by invisible tentacles in the darkness. Their blood and blood exploded into smoke, rapidly dissolving into nothingness in the pure blackness.
The Lord of Night's representative walks barefoot on the sand littered with bullet casings and steel fragments, receiving the worship of the living.
Leonard glanced at the figure from afar. He was quite far from the center of the position and assumed it was another archbishop sent to provide support. He couldn't help but look up, and as soon as he saw the figure's tattered, simple robe and waist-length black hair, another will within him forced him to twist his spine like most of the people around him, slamming his head hard to the ground.
"Old man, what are you doing?"
Leonard gritted his teeth and asked in a low voice.
After a long time, until the night departed, until the sun, which had somehow climbed into the east, cast its first rays of sunlight, and until all the patients who had been driven mad by the dragon's breath earlier had returned to peace, Pales's aged voice slowly uttered a name.
"Yes, Ariana."
"He has come."