"The children stagger out of the darkness and grow up under the blessing of the stars. After they understand everything in the world, they will eventually return to the darkness and return to the embrace of the goddess."
...
Klein, wearing a double-breasted coat, stood piously in the corner of the cemetery. Most of his figure was obscured by the tall tree trunks in front of him, almost buried in the surrounding environment. Only deep voices recited eulogies.
The branches have begun to wither, but under the still dense canopy, there is only an old corpse covered in white single clothes lying quietly in a slightly closed hole, next to new mud with a hint of moisture.
After performing the most basic prayer last night, Klein picked up the chain-blade cane placed at his feet, and bit by bit, with some effort, buried the small earth bag next to the simple grave pit back.
In the past, the pastor of the church was responsible for this kind of thing. At most, I heard Fry talk about the general process, and then I observed my own funeral on the gray fog. There should be no wrong steps...yesterday
In the last step of the night, he collected the various ritual items scattered on the floor and put on the "substitute" gloves that were temporarily in his pocket.
Although 12 hours have passed since the time of death and the remaining spirit bodies on the corpse have dissipated, Klein still used the power of gray mist to restore part of the truth.
During the dream divination, he saw figures with distorted movements, dancing like epilepsy, and a more blurry, all-black pyramid hanging upside down.
In occultism these are standard characteristics of Death followers.
That kind of alternative epileptic dance should be the so-called spiritual dance of the Spiritual Cult and Death God believers. As expected, it has a certain effect on the surrounding corpses... After tidying up his clothes, Klein looked at the half-marked body he had marked.
A big withered tree, with his right hand stroking a small metal pipe, his thoughts wandered.
This was originally a container that held spiritual dew. Now only under the light, a few strands of hair can be faintly seen.
"Isn't this really a trap? What kind of extraordinary person would be so brainless as to leave his own hair on a corpse he accidentally awakened?" Klein looked at the metal tube in his hand in confusion, frowning slightly, and connected it to form
A straight line.
To be honest, he seemed to smell a strong smell of arrangements now and was very scared.
I came to this cemetery today on a whim, in order to determine the extent to which Azik's copper whistle could affect the dead bodies.
Then, without any warning of spiritual intuition, he was discovered by the tombkeeper patrolling in the middle of the night, and was almost "attacked" by a corpse.
In the end, there was still hair on the body that was suspected to have been lost during the ceremony by members of the Spiritual Religion Group.
This doesn't look like a mere coincidence!
The cemetery at midnight was extremely quiet, with crows flying faintly, and only a brief flutter of wings. Klein climbed out of the cemetery border wall to look for the hired carriage, but he could not calm down in his heart.
"Ever since we killed Rosago with Miss Sharon, 'Mystery' has never spoken to me through the so-called connection between the two bodies. I didn't see him this time when I boarded the gray fog."
"It seems that the strange things that happened to him before hurt him a lot, and he still hasn't recovered yet?"
After struggling for a long time, Klein vaguely saw the bright lights hanging in front of the carriage and breathed a sigh of relief. He raised his free left hand and ended the storm in his mind.
The main focus recently is still on Lanerwus, and then there are the underground ruins of the Pound family's old mansion, and Capping, who Mike and I didn't confirm today, the Crazy Ripper, the rotting male corpse, and
have......
He kept recalling the things that needed attention recently, as if this was the only way he could move forward and maintain his current life.
Also, what else is coming?
Klein slowly boarded the carriage, rubbing his temples, and the previously forgotten memories gradually came to mind.
In the darkness outside the window, a graceful figure clad in white gauze slowly emerged from the shadows. Her face was blurred, but she only vaguely revealed a sweet and seductive aura.
Bang!
The heavy chain-blade cane suddenly slipped from Klein's hand without any warning.
............
In the quiet night, it was almost early in the morning, and the full red moon was hanging high in the dark night sky. The strange light red moonlight overshadowed other stars.
In an unmanned factory building of a garment factory in St. George District, in a carefully cleaned open space, nearly ten mysterious people in black robes sat around, looking solemn.
In the center of them, a dark, heavy coffin was half-submerged in the earth. Scarlet lines spread like vines on the khaki ground, and the light light jumped regularly, like a beating heart.
There are many gold ornaments with traces of soil placed around them. Candles with pale flames swaying condense the spirituality in the air. The skulls arranged neatly and stacked into peaks make it extremely strange.
Some of these skulls are from humans, but most of them are from various common animals around Backlund, but most of them have deformities.
Directly in front of the hill of skulls, a tall middle-aged man, also wearing a robe, but not pulling up the robe, stood upright, with his arms raised in the air, and his right hand tightly holding a red-faced man who kept kicking
A fat man holding his feet and struggling hard.
Magath, who was wearing a messy burgundy pajamas and beads of sweat, kept breaking the fingers tightly around her neck with her fat hands. Her wide-open eyes were so bloodshot that they almost jumped out of their sockets.
"Patrick Blaine!"
He knew this man who broke into his office for no apparent reason and abducted him like a ghost.
He is just the owner of several garment factories. When did he have such ability?
Patrick, who had profound features, black hair and brown eyes, a slender face, and a rather cold temperament, stared at the sacrifice in his hand indifferently, with a deep voice.
"The blasphemous thief should have sacrificed his life to the great God of Death to make amends. If you want to hate, hate your own greed."
His clenched right hand kept exerting force, and with a click, Magath, who was still struggling a second ago, instantly lost his life, and his fat body hung in the air, like a broken puppet.
Patrick, with an indifferent expression, was thrown forward, and his body wrapped in crimson pajamas fell heavily to the ground, landing squarely in front of the hill of stacked white skulls.
Along with a burst of pale flames, Magath's body decomposed rapidly. In just a few seconds, it seemed as if it had been dead for a long time, leaving only the hair scattered on the ground and the white bones lying on the filthy liquid.
"If you hadn't distrusted the doctors at the hospital, this ceremony could have been held earlier..." Patrick said indifferently. He threw his left hand that had been hanging by his side, and the sculpture of authority made of human bones was suspended in the air.
, defying gravity, it rose slowly and floated above the Bone Peak.
Ever since he accidentally learned at a banquet that the new president of the "Daily Observer" had collected a large number of antiques from the Southern Continent, which even included ritual items once used to worship the God of Death, he had been planning to sell this abominable
Blasphemers are sacrificed to the underworld.
He looked around at the believers who bowed their heads devoutly in prayer, and slowly recited passages of obscure words of the dead, with a rhythm that was ups and downs.
If he hadn't taken action personally this time, this hateful blasphemer might still not have been punished as he deserved.
These subordinates were so stupid. They were asked to investigate the hospital where Magath often went, and they would kidnap and take him away if they had the opportunity. As a result, they carried out three operations until they were targeted by the Church of Storms, and they never kidnapped him properly!
Patrick, who was often praised by his teachers for his ability and ability, had a headache. When he thought of the skinny old man who had been kidnapped recently, he had the urge to turn these believers into slaves of the undead.
I don’t know where the body of the old man I asked them to dispose of was transported to...
"You are the essence of death."
"Lord of the Dead."
"The final destination of all living things."
As Patrick began to recite the name that symbolizes the god of death, the hooded believers around him invariably performed a slightly twitching, rather epileptic, rhythmic dance.
They used spiritual dance to communicate the relationship between their spirituality and the ritual. In the empty warehouse that was arranged as an altar, waves of coldness emerged from the air, pale colors infected the surroundings, and the flames on the candles expanded with excitement.
The dance became more and more intense, and the coffin in the center of the ceremony shook violently with the rhythm of the dance. The scarlet veins spreading on the ground returned to dimness at this moment, leaving only a piece of charred black.
Finally, the coffin in the center could no longer support the power of the altar's feedback. The rather heavy coffin exploded instantly, and the flying dark black fragments hovered in the air, as if blocked by invisible hands and unable to spread.
Under the blessing of the pale flames that rose up and spread without warning, the fragments of the exploded coffin reorganized in the air, quickly forming a huge door where illusion and reality intermingled.
Within the door frame composed of wooden thorns and pitch black, the mottled bronze door was hazy and unreal. With an extremely heavy sound, it slowly opened, revealing the nothingness behind it.
The believers who were dancing crazily fell to the ground one after another, assuming the role of bishop. Patrick, who was presiding over the ceremony, suddenly felt a huge pressure, and his body trembled involuntarily, as if he had encountered intrinsic pressure.
In the colorful nothingness, the upside-down pyramid is looming, and the sound of rushing water can be heard from time to time.
A pale gray mist spread from the door, gradually infiltrating reality, and an unreal arm slowly stretched out with the power of this strange mist.
It raised its hand casually, and the pale skulls piled up in the open space flew up together with Magath's recently deceased body, and turned into powder in an instant.
Pure spiritual power attached to the sculpture of authority that Patrick had just thrown, like a sharp carving knife, changing its image.
This short ceremonial staff became gradually slender under the transformation of external forces, just like the pillars supporting the dome in the palace, with harmonious proportions.
It flew upside down into the door and flew into the unreal arm.
"Hahahahaha..."
At some point, Patrick was lying on the ground with his forehead pressed against the ground, his body trembling as he listened to the harsh laughter.
boom!
The door where illusion and reality blended shut with a bang, and Patrick, who was crawling on the ground, quickly got up, spreading his spirituality.
In the darkness in the distance, the trembling spirit body, still affected by the alien phase just now, was approaching quickly.
They were all dressed in illusory dress-like clothes, hanging next to each unconscious member. After confirming that no one was dead, they took their place.
"Just now, could it be that God has further revived?" Patrick's lips were slightly opened, but he found that his voice was extremely dry.
He felt his own condition. Under his tall and energetic appearance, his powerful spirit body was already showing signs of deterioration.
In just a few short seconds of the ceremony, he seemed to have made a lot of progress in the long life of the "immortal", feeling an aging coming from the essence of his soul.
Woo!
A gust of cold wind blew by, and the hoods of the believers lying on the ground were blown away, and their hair was all gray.
Patrick, who couldn't help but feel throbbing in his heart, did not dare to delay, and decisively opened his wrist, and bright red blood gushes out, filling in the missing spiritual materials in the ceremony.
The surrounding undead slaves cooperated with his actions, their bodies could not help but tremble, and they danced a spiritual dance.
The honorable name symbolizing a "Death Archon" was spit out from Patrick's mouth quickly, and the blood dripping on the ground changed accordingly, forming symbols unique to the underworld.
"The sect has lost a 'ferryman' and has stopped exerting influence on God's awakening?" Patrick, who was wearing a black robe, froze on the spot, his eyes that originally revealed the meaning of peace at night filled with fear.
............
"Dear Mr. Fool, I have prepared the information on the ruined nobles of Loen requested by Mr. World, and now I ask you to forward it to me."
Klein, who had already taken off his human skin mask and was packing his luggage to make preparations for moving tomorrow, stopped what he was doing, turned his head and listened to the illusory sounds in his ears, and muttered to himself.
"It's so fast. Didn't Miss Justice say three or four days?"
He put down the clothes in his hands, walked into the bathroom familiarly, walked four steps backward, and arrived above the gray mist.
Klein, who was sitting at the top, looked around habitually, but still found no trace of "secret" activities.
Although if He doesn't want to see me, it's impossible for me to find Him, but I still feel uneasy when I can't see anyone... Klein is unusually worried about his body.
He shook his head and raised his hand slightly, because the sacrificial door of Miss Justice's sacrificial ceremony was opened, and a neat stack of papers flew out and fell steadily into his hand.
Immediately afterwards, he showed the appearance of "The World" praying devoutly, and conveyed this scene into the crimson star symbolizing Miss "Justice".
Alas, if "Secret" is awake, he should be happy to help me handle these tasks... Sitting in a relaxed position, Klein's mind wandered around and imagined unlikely scenarios, and he looked through "Miss Justice"
information sent.
He has no intention of bringing this to reality.
Secretly hiding so much information about the ruined nobles, once it is exposed, Sherlock Moriarty's name will be on the desk of MI9.
When the time comes, the first person to deal with him will be Mr. Aigron downstairs!