Өд

White Feathers?

Looking at the corpseless grave, Klein suddenly thought of a word: "Angel!"

In the canon of the seven major Churches, they were filled with legends of Angels and Saints. The former had one characteristic, a pair of pure white wings on its back, and as many as two, three, or even six pairs of pure white wings.

However, in the blink of an eye, Klein remembered something else

Mr. Azik had once described his dream to him, one that seemed to indicate his different lives.

One of the scenes was inside a dark mausoleum. There were many opened ancient coffins beside him, and in the coffins, there were corpses with white feathers growing from their backs!

Is this a special characteristic of the Death pathway, or a strange phenomenon caused by the Numinous Episcopate? Klein didn’t say a word as he restrained his emotions and calmly looked at the white feathers stained with yellowish oil at the bottom of the grave.

His initial judgment was that the old gentleman wasn’t an angel, as the terrifying Sequence 2, or even Sequence 1 Beyonders, would certainly produce intense effects on their surroundings when they died. For example, the Holy Artifact, the ashes of a Saint which had been stored behind Tingen City’s Chanis Gate, would extend almost invisible thin, black, and cold lines so as to seal the people and things around it.

Of course, it’s also possible that he didn’t actually die... He’s like Mr. Azik? Klein bent down and picked up three white feathers with his black-gloved right hand.

He planned to do some divination above the gray fog when he returned home.

At that moment, Kapusky came to his senses, scrambled to Klein’s side, and looked at the grave with a hint of fear.

"Where’s the body?"

Klein looked at him and said in a low voice, "Maybe he left by himself"

"He left by himself..." Kapusky repeated in horror, now fully aware of how terrible it was for the dead to awaken.

His legs trembled as he muttered to himself, "B-but I didn’t use the resurrection ritual on him."

Klein turned around and looked at him for a few seconds.

"Death is not the end."

"Death is not the end... Death is not the end... " Kapusky was quite frightened by his own beliefs as he blurted out, "W-will he come back?"

Well, the copper whistle had summoned a messenger which probably corresponds to the old gentleman. In other words, by giving the messenger a letter, it is equivalent to sending a letter to the old gentleman, a man who has been dead for almost half a year... Heh, I wonder where he went and what kind of state he’s in... In response to Kapusky’s question, Klein gave him an indifferent reminder.

"Don’t blow that copper whistle again."

"You mean the copper whistle will draw him back?" Kapusky asked in horror.

Before Klein could reply, he asked again, "C-can you help me throw this copper whistle into the Tussock River?

"If you can’t, I-I’ll do it myself."

Weren’t you interested in the philosophy of death? Klein lampooned as he reached out to take Kapusky’s copper whistle.

He was planning on sending the dead man a letter when the conditions were right to see what would happen.

Of course, the prerequisite for all of this was that he was certain that there wasn’t too much danger involved.

After instructing Kapusky to fill up the grave again, Klein had a brief exchange with him about the "Spirit Dance" and the corresponding mysticism knowledge, enriching his own knowledge. He also asked Kapusky in detail about how he laid the old gentleman’s body, facing down, in accordance with his last words.

Under certain special circumstances, using "Spirit Dance" to replace part of the cumbersome setup for ritualistic magic would be more effective and simple... Seeing that he had achieved his goal, Klein warned Kapusky to stop dabbling with the so-called resurrection rituals.

Then, he left the street through the garden and took a long detour via carriage to East Borough.

After changing back into his previous clothes, he returned to Minsk Street and entered his bedroom. After a series of actions, he carried the three white feathers and Kapusky’s copper whistle above the gray fog.

Seated in The Fool’s high back chair, Klein conjured pen and a paper. He wrote a divination statement he had long thought of: "Its origins."

Then, he held the three white feathers and leaned back in his chair.

As he chanted silently, Klein entered a dreamland. It was a blurry grayish-white all around him.

In this world, there was rich darkness without any light. Suddenly, the darkness was dyed with a crimson shade. A thin, pale hand reached out of the yellowish-brown soil.

A figure slowly got up. He didn’t lift the stone slab, but he pierced through the soil directly.

Under the crimson red moonlight, the clothes on the figure’s back were tattered, and white feathers grew out one after another.

The white-haired man tilted his head, revealing the red spots on his face, as well as his blank, emotionless eyes.

It began to walk, struggling through the surrounding fences, heading deeper into the darkness until it disappeared far away.

The dream shattered and Klein woke up.

White feathers sprouted from the back of the corpse... Its state resembles Miss Sharron’s, but it’s clearly different as well. It gave off a very heavy and corporeal feeling... It seemed to be phasing between a human’s body and a spirit’s body in a semi-natural and incomplete transformation? An envoy that’s connected to the real world and the spirit underworld? Klein tapped the edge of the long table and thought for quite a while.

Then, he divined whether there was any danger in using the copper whistle he received from Kapusky at that very moment and received a positive answer. Furthermore, the spirit pendulum moved with great amplitude and high frequencies.

It’s a pity that I can’t directly use the copper whistle above the gray fog. The messenger wouldn’t be able to enter at all; otherwise, there wouldn’t be any danger... After muttering to himself, Klein descended through the gray fog and returned to the real world.

...

Early morning, in the relatively refreshing woods in Empress Borough.

The Apothecary, with a round face who was in his thirties, appeared in a secluded corner and stored the herbs that he had secretly planted into a leather bag that he carried around with him.

After completing the mission for the day, he straightened his back, and he began to stretch his body. He mumbled to himself in great satisfaction, "Sure enough, my physical constitution has improved. I’m no longer like what I was before where I was relatively resistant to poisonous elements.

"However... Why is my Sequence 8 Beast Tamer? What does this have to do with Apothecary?

"Well, an Apothecary tames and uses plants and parts of animals that have lost their lives, while a Beast Tamer tames and uses living animals. Does it include Beyonder creatures?

"Then, will my Sequence 7 be able to tame and use humans?

"The old geezer didn’t even tell me the name of Sequence 7, nor did he give me the formula. When I stabilize, I’ll have to try contacting him."

The Apothecary began punching and kicking to get used to his strengthened body. He only stopped when he was utterly exhausted.

Whoosh... While panting, he began to consider a serious problem: How should a Beast Tamer act?

"Beast Tamer... how should it be done? Look for animals and tame them?" As the Apothecary was mumbling to himself, he suddenly sensed something and looked towards the artificial lake.

There was a huge golden retriever running happily.

The large golden retriever seemed to notice his gaze as it suddenly turned its head to look at him.

As their gazes met in midair, the large golden retriever froze for a moment. Then, it nimbly turned around and ran away, disappearing without a trace.

...

In the Hall family’s luxurious villa.

Susie returned to a piano room and sat beside Audrey’s feet, her tongue hanging out as she panted heavily.

It waited until the blonde girl finished playing a song before it said in fear, "Audrey, I met a scary guy.

"His eyes were scary!"

"Is that so? What did he want to do to you?" Audrey asked, curious and concerned.

Susie thought for a moment and said, "I don’t know either. In short, he’s very dangerous. That was my intuition."

"What does he look like?" Audrey considered letting the guards and attendants warn the man.

"I didn’t see him clearly. I feel that he is my natural enemy!" Susie replied in all seriousness.

Your natural enemy? A dog-type nemesis? Audrey gave a reserved smile.

"Susie, don’t go into those woods for now."

"Woof, Audrey, were you in a bad mood? I could tell from your piano music," Susie asked.

Audrey nodded gently and said, "Yea... I just received word from Glaint that Fors and Xio wanted to inform me that this evening’s gathering has been canceled. I was originally planning to exchange some Beyonder ingredients for you."

And also attempt to come into contact with people from the Psychology Alchemists...she added silently in her heart.

"Why?" Susie asked, puzzled.

Audrey thought for a moment before replying, "It’s said to be a result of the serial murders."

...

On Saturday morning, Backlund’s air was as bad as usual.

Klein was trying to make a noodle dish which he loved to eat as a child. For this, he bought higher quality flour, added water and sugar, and mixed it to form a pot of thin "paste."

Then, he poured oil into the pot and moistened the surface.

After the oil heated up, he scooped up some of the flour paste with his soup spoon and poured it to the side of the pot, spreading it thin.

Amidst the sizzling sounds, he spread out several flat pieces of bread, and the fragrance of the flour gradually emanated.

When he was almost done, he removed the soft flat pieces of bread, one by one, and put them on the plate. Then, he added water and turned the remaining materials into batter.

As soon as he returned to the dining room with the flat bread and "paste," Klein impatiently tore off a piece and stuffed it into his mouth.

The flat piece of bread only had a rich fragrance of wheat and a sweet taste that whetted his appetite. It was simple and plain, but it was exceptionally delicious.

It’s the taste from my memories... Klein quickly ate, occasionally drinking a mouthful of the paste.

As he was almost done eating and started to slow down, the doorbell suddenly rang.

A new commission? Klein took off his napkin, wiped his hands, and got up to go to the door.

Before he touched the handle, the image of a visitor appeared in his mind.

It was a middle-aged gentleman with white sideburns, a thin face, and an outstanding temperament.

It was the private detective, Isengard Stanton, who could get an invitation from the police!

Why is he here? Klein opened the door in puzzlement and asked with a smile, "Good morning, Mr. Stanton. Is there something?"

Isengard took off his half top hat and smiled.

"Good morning, Mr. Moriarty. I wish to work with you. I believe you’re an excellent detective. After all, you previously managed to lead your investigations all the way to East Balam Dock and the Dock Union all by yourself."

"Cooperate?" Klein didn’t hide his surprise.

Isengard tapped his black cane and replied in a deep voice, "To find the serial killer behind the recent chain of serial murders.

"The police has already offered a reward of 2,000 pounds."