Lanevus. That name sent a chill down Klein's spine.
It wasn't surprising that Lanevus could produce god's blood. Mr. Devil had mentioned before that Lanevus carried the True Creator's divinity and was set to become a vessel for the True Creator's descent. What truly made his hair stand on end was that Mr. Devil had traded this test tube of god's blood to him.
Since Mr. Devil could obtain this blood, it meant he knew Lanevus's location. Yet, there had been no news of Lanevus being caught. What did that imply? Could he not speak, or did he simply not wish to?
In Klein's perspective, although Mr. Devil possessed many methods and likely had high-level mystical items, his true sequence was still between Sequence 9 and Sequence 8. Facing Lanevus, who was possessed by the True Creator, he clearly lacked the strength to fight back. However, he hadn't attempted to report it or inform The Fool. Did this mean Mr. Devil had been corrupted by the True Creator?
But if he was corrupted, why would he sell the True Creator's blood to him? For a fanatic, such a blasphemous act would be impossible. The more Klein thought, the more confused he became. But just then, he suddenly saw the crimson star representing Mr. Devil begin to expand and contract once more.
'Mr. Devil is having a rather early dinner today.'
With a skeptical expression, Klein extended his spirituality to touch the star. He saw a blurry image of Snow sitting at the dinner table, his hands clasped beneath his chin, softly chanting, "Thank you, Fool, for granting me this dinner."
'He doesn't seem corrupted?' Looking down at Mr. Devil from above, Klein activated Spirit Vision and observed his state using the authority of Sefirah Castle. Aside from the white, mist-like horse still wandering above his head, there was nothing unusual.
Seeing that the tentacles stripped from his body were gradually disappearing, Klein set aside his complex thoughts and began using the knowledge he had gained from glimpsing the True Creator. He extracted the power from the degraded god's blood, mixing it with the distortions and pollution the grey fog had expelled from him to create several unique charms.
Although it was only degraded blood, it still contained a tiny trace of divinity. By the time Klein had drained all the divine power, he held three strange charms that felt like black iron, radiating distortion and malice.
'A single tube of blood produced three charms. This trade was a huge profit... Wait!'
Toying with his new charms, Klein was about to divine their abilities when he froze. He sat back down at the head of the long bronze table, his fingers lightly tapping his throbbing temples, and began to recall his previous conversation with Mr. Devil. Suddenly, his eyes snapped open, and a look of concern flashed across his face.
"'With the power of that existence', 'As long as your enemy isn't the Aurora Order', 'If it's inconvenient for you to pray to that existence for help', 'Even if you use it, it won't attract official Beyonders'..."
Mulling over Mr. Devil's words, Klein began to pick up on new meanings. He frowned and muttered, "The reason he sold me the True Creator's blood at such a low price despite its high value was likely intended as a hint! A hint that he has made some kind of 'contact' with the True Creator!"
Realizing this, Klein immediately felt the urge to descend a "divine oracle" to Mr. Devil. But then, he stopped.
'Mr. Devil can still pray to me, which means he isn't being monitored. But he didn't use his prayer to voice his difficulties. This is likely due to some contract or notarization. Once spoken, it would be sensed by Lanevus or even the True Creator. That's why he gave such a subtle hint to the 'Blessed of The Fool' to attract my attention.'
Klein thought about pulling Mr. Devil up to the grey fog, but the throbbing in his forehead reminded him that he had been on the grey fog for quite some time today. While he could force himself to stay, Klein didn't want to linger here for too long. He took one last look at Mr. Devil, who was enjoying his feast, and muttered to himself, "I still can't be certain if Mr. Devil has truly 'converted.' It's been less than an hour since Sherlock left his house. It would be too fast for The Fool to take action now. Mr. Devil shouldn't be in immediate danger. Tomorrow... I'll test him during the Tarot Club meeting. With the isolation of the grey fog, if he doesn't have any issues, he should speak up!"
...
The bright moon had yet to rise, but Backlund's miserable weather had caused the sky to darken prematurely. Inside a residence in Hillston District, Fors was devouring a lavish meal. The table was spread with delicate desserts, juicy roasts, and a fragrant cream soup.
Xio, sitting opposite her, seemed to have no appetite at all. She watched Fors with a worried gaze. Ordinarily, she would have lectured Fors about eating properly, but today, she found the words hard to say.
"Could you stop looking at me like I'm eating my last meal?" Fors bit into a juicy steak and spoke with a carefree attitude, "I'm only praying to an existence that isn't so dangerous. Didn't you recite His honorific name yourself? It's no big deal!"
"..." Xio remained silent. She wanted to scout the path for Fors, but Fors was right. Whether her prayer succeeded or not, Fors would still be affected by the full moon ravings. Her scouting would do nothing to change the outcome.
Xio hated this feeling of powerlessness, yet she had no solution. At this moment, her desire to advance was incredibly strong. She suddenly made a decision. She should probably accept the invitation from that masked man.
"Hey, why do you look like a 'friend who died so you decided to join the army to avenge her'? I'm not a character in a tragic novel..."
Fors's words were cut short. The fork in her hand suddenly clattered onto the plate, letting out a sharp screech. Immediately, her expression grew contorted. Veins began to bulge on the back of her smooth hands. Although she didn't cry out in pain, anyone could see her agony from the cold sweat beading on her forehead.
"Fors! Fors!" Seeing Fors's expression, Xio immediately realized what was happening. But when she looked out the window, she could only see the dim yellow glow of the streetlamps through the hazy fog.
"Sss..." Listening to the layered murmurs in her ears, the lazy and playful look in Fors's eyes had been entirely replaced by pain. She collapsed from her chair, letting out a low groan of agony.
With her previous experiences, the pain hadn't yet reached her limit of endurance. But once a human had something to rely on, their heart would inevitably grow fragile. With the option of The Fool, Fors's resolve to endure by herself had weakened significantly.
"O Great God of Steam and Machinery..." Retaining a shred of sanity, Fors tried to pray to the god she worshipped. But just like the countless times before, she received no response. Worse, the piercing pain reaching into her very brain grew even more intense.
"Fors, don't force it! Pray!" Seeing Fors's painful state, Xio couldn't help but shout. Fors finally reached her limit, struggling to recite the honorific name with a shaky voice, "The Fool that doesn't belong to this era..."
[Translated and Rewritten by Shika_Kagura]