Chapter 1297 “Forest“ of Miracles
The Red Gloves captain, Eric, shivered involuntarily as he saw Merlin Hermes, who claimed to be a wandering magician, explode behind the telescope.
However, there was no splattering blood or flesh. The shredded limbs disappeared into the air like soap bubbles.
“…” Eric and his team members, who looked over due to the commotion, were stunned. They didn’t understand the reason behind such a sudden sequence of events.
A second later, Eric said in a deep voice, “Retreat!”
He wanted to evacuate his team before the danger truly spread.
At this moment, another figure walked in from the open door of Unit 403. It was none other than Merlin Hermes who had just exploded.
This wandering Magician was wearing a tall hat and a long black robe. As if nothing had happened, he spoke to Eric and his team members:
“The root of the problem really is from that telescope.”
As he spoke, Klein walked to the balcony and tapped the telescope with his right hand.
Another bang rang out as the telescope suddenly shattered into metallic points of light that emitted a foul stench of bluish-black gas.
The moment the grayish-white fog appeared, the stench vanished and the room returned to normal.
…What exactly happened? Eric forced himself to forget about the other party’s death and asked cautiously.
As a captain of the Red Gloves who was rather experienced, he had some guesses about the truth of the matter. The main goal of asking was to seek confirmation.
Klein smiled and said, “Simply put, the telescope mutated for some reason, causing the owner of the room to see something that he shouldn’t have seen.
“If you want to understand more details, you can only search for clues yourself. I’m not too sure either.”
Eric nodded slightly and cast his gaze at his team members, signaling them to continue their investigation.
After a series of work, Eric said to Merlin Hermes, “There aren’t many clues left in the room. We can only confirm a few things:
“One, John is a local resident, and he served in the military during the war. It seems that he had some mental problems as a result. Two, he had been an amateur astronomer. At the end of the war, he joined an academic organization known as the Celestial Research Association, but we didn’t obtain any information about this organization. Three, John was seeking the way to see the true cosmos.”
Upon mentioning the word “cosmos,” Eric paused slightly, as though he had received a warning from the upper echelons of the Church of Evernight.
He joined an organization known as the Celestial Research Association after the war ended… Sought the way to see the true cosmos… Klein combined this knowledge with his “experience” and had a certain level of confidence in the matter. He nodded and said, “You should know that the cosmos means danger. You can’t even try to understand it.”
“We will report this case to the archbishop as soon as possible and classify the Celestial Research Association as a dangerous organization,” Eric said as if speaking to a Nighthawk superior who wasn’t directly in charge of him.
Klein didn’t respond as he walked to the door and sighed.
“Indeed, war really does have an irreversible impact on all aspects…”
After the fall of the God of Combat, the already crumbling barrier set up by the Primordial One lost parts of its support. As for the Evernight Goddess, “She” has yet to fully gain control of the corresponding Uniquenesses. As for becoming a Great Old One, who knows how much longer that will take. Under such circumstances, the intrusion of the Outer Deities into this world would naturally deepen. This has combined with the damage that many ordinary people have suffered from the war.
Klein suspected that, during the subsequent period of rebuilding after the war, many cults that pointed to the different Outer Deities or Cosmos would appear secretly in Loen. If he allowed them to spread their faith and attempt various risky attempts, the apocalypse would definitely be brought forward.
As he sighed, he walked out of Unit 403. His figure blurred, turning transparent until he disappeared.
In a hotel near Priya Street, Klein, who had long since moved in, picked up the coffee in front of him and took a sip.
Taking advantage of the fact that it was still early, he went out once again and took a carriage to the outskirts of the coastal Constant City.
There was a cemetery. The stone tablets stood erect like a short forest.
Klein walked through the cemetery and found a tombstone with the help of his spirituality.
The name on the tombstone wrote:
This was the original Klein’s university schoolmate. As he had bought the Antigonus family’s notebook, he had mysteriously died in Tingen. This had indirectly caused Zhou Mingrui to “transmigrate.”
Welch McGovern’s father was a banker in Constant City. He had spent money to bring his son’s corpse back to his hometown and buried it in this cemetery.
Klein stared at the photo on the tombstone for a few seconds. He bent down and placed the bouquet of white flowers in his hand in front of Welch’s grave.
Just as he was about to turn and leave, he suddenly stopped in his tracks. Twenty to thirty seconds later, an old man with a black cane walked over from another direction.
Klein recognized him and knew that he was Welch’s father. He was the Midseashire County banker who had once invited him and his schoolmates to a sumptuous meal.
However, compared to a few years ago, this gentleman had aged significantly. He was originally a very energetic middle-aged gentleman, but now, his hair was half white. There were many wrinkles on his eyes, mouth, and forehead.
“Who are you?” Welch’s father looked at the stranger in front of the grave. He asked, puzzled and wary.
Klein sighed and said, “Mr. McGovern, I’m Welch’s friend. I just happened to pass by Constant City recently.”
Welch’s father nodded slightly and said in a deep voice, “He’s a very sociable person. I only know a number of his friends.”
His words were an attempt to explain why he hadn’t invited Klein to the funeral and how sorry he was.
Klein didn’t say anything else as he looked around and said, “Is there anything you need help with? Or do you have any wishes that you wish to have fulfilled? I hope I can provide you with some strength.”
Welch’s father looked around and smiled bitterly.
“Can you allow all the dead here to stand up again?”
It’s not impossible, but they will be different from what you have in mind… Klein sighed and shook his head.
“Then can you allow Constant to return to its original state?” Welch’s father asked with a bitter smile.
Without waiting for Klein’s reply, he sighed and continued, “There’s no need to provide any help. I can achieve what is possible myself. If it’s impossible, then I can only pray to the deities.”
As he spoke, the banker went past Klein and walked to his son’s tombstone. He bent down and put down the bouquet of white flowers.
Klein looked at his back and muttered to himself, “I will try my best.”
With that, he turned around and left the cemetery.
Constant City, in a bar with a style that resembled the previous century’s.
A man donning a thick jacket carried his beer and walked to a wooden board beside the bar counter. He tried to find a part-time job on the notices pasted on it.
Suddenly, he saw a strange mission:
“I’m a reporter. I want to gather all kinds of stories from different people. It’s best if you had personally experienced it yourself. The remuneration I can provide is to satisfy your wish to repair and rebuild your house for free. I have sufficient resources in this aspect.
The man subconsciously frowned. He felt that this request was too strange, like it was a prank.
“Can you read the words on it?” A thin man who was sitting beside the wooden board took the opportunity to ask.
Few patrons of this bar were literate. Even if they wanted to find a job, or accept the corresponding commissions, most people were unable to understand the notices on the wooden board, and the bartender could only remember the few with the highest pay.
As a result of this situation, the thin, feeble man relied on the common Loenese terms he learned at the free schools to provide the corresponding interpretation at a quarter-pence.
This was how he made a living.
The man shook his head, indicating that he understood Loenese. He pointed at Merlin Hermes’ request and said, “Is this real?”
“It is. That reporter is sitting by that corner, the one wearing a very tall hat.” The thin, feeble man enthusiastically pointed him in the correct direction.
The reporter had promised him a quarter-pence for every person he introduced.
The man holding the beer fell silent. After hesitating for a full ten seconds, he walked to the corner and found the reporter named Merlin Hermes.
“W-will you really help me rebuild my house?” he asked worriedly.
Klein pointed at the documents on the small round table and said, “We can sign a contract.”
“…There’s no need. Even if you provide some materials, I’ll still be very satisfied.” The man sat opposite Klein and said rather cautiously, “I don’t have a very touching story.”
“As long as it’s real enough.” Klein nodded slightly in encouragement.
The man looked down and stared at the table.
“I’m a Constant native, and I used to have a decent job. I bought a terrace house along Lowtide Street. Later, war broke out. My house was reduced to ruins during one of the bombings. My eldest son, the child who just entered primary school, was buried inside…
“We had no choice but to rent a two-bedroom room until the Feysacians occupied Constant. Th-they dragged my wife away and she never returned…
“Some time ago, someone requested me to identify her corpse. I couldn’t even recognize her. She had rotten so much that you wouldn’t even call it a corpse. However, in the pockets of her clothes, there was still… there was still our old water bill…
“When she was still at the rental apartment, she had always missed our home. It’s the same for my younger daughter. I don’t have much money now and can only barely maintain my life, but I wish to rebuild that house bit by bit.
“To be honest, I don’t like telling others about my misfortune. I’d rather stay silent. But if I can really get help with the rebuilding efforts, then I can…”
Klein held a pen and paper and pretended to jot it down. He nodded gently and said, “Your wish will come true. Wait for me in front of the ruins of that house on Lowtide Street tomorrow.”
At the same time, he pushed a one-soli note over.
“This is for your drinks. My treat.”
The man’s eyes flickered. He seemed to want to refuse it, but in the end, he still picked up the note.
The next day, after sending his younger daughter to the church school, he walked along the familiar path to the familiar Lowtide Street and saw that familiar house.
Its chimney, its windows, its door, and the weeds on its walls hadn’t changed at all. It was so familiar, as if its beautiful female owner would open the door in the next second and walk the two children out to welcome their father.
The man was stunned, unable to believe that this was real.
However, even if it was an illusion, he was willing to embrace it.
After several days, Klein, who had completed a slew of similar wishes, pushed open the window of the hotel and snapped his fingers in the morning light fog.
In an area of the city overlooking Constant, Welch’s father woke up out of habit due to his dreams of his dead son and family. He walked to the balcony to take in the morning air.
Under the light of dawn, he suddenly saw chimneys and blast furnaces that resembled a forest. Alongside them were tall buildings.
The former Constant City had presented itself to him, bathed in the orange light of dawn.