On a mountain outside Bayam City, in a forest that had lost all its vitality because it was buried by a half-collapsed cliff.
A tall, stocky middle-aged man with deep blue hair was wearing a Storm priest robe as he stood in the air and overlooked the area. There was a clear burning rage in his eyes.
He was none other than the Church of Storms Cardinal, Archbishop of the Rorsted Sea, high-ranking deacon of the Mandated Punishers, Sea King Jahn Kottman.
At that moment, the battle from before was still fresh in Kottman’s mind. He remembered how every participant in the battle retreated.
The angel from the Rose School of Thought had used a particular method to transfer “His” powers over from a great distance. After “He” failed to achieve “His” objectives, “He” rather easily brought away “His” heavily injured partner, and no one wanted “Him” to stay, aside from the strange monster that appeared out of nowhere. Jahn Kottman remembered very vividly that when the angel retracted “His” arm, it had sparse white feathers on the black, sticky arm. From the top of the skull and from inside the erected eye, they grew from unimaginable spots. And all of this was because the Rose School of Thought’s angel was dodging the glove with the True Creator’s aura while using some of “His” strength to shatter what seemed like an ordinary copper whistle.
Shortly after the sinister and strange spirit world creature engaged in battle with the angel, it voluntarily retreated into the depths of the spirit world, preventing Jahn Kottman from pursuing it.
The Aurora Order saint who had opened a Door of Teleportation didn’t participate in the battle. After observing the situation in puzzlement, he picked up the glove with the True Creator’s aura, and he opened the door to leave before the battle ended.
The strange monster that was summoned because of the copper whistle didn’t have a fixed form. “He” was like the manifestation of death itself. “He” was like a mist that filled the surroundings but had many feathers with yellowish marks on it. “His” target was obvious—the angel of the Rose School of Thought. Before the latter escaped, “He” had also vanished from the area as though it were in pursuit of “His” target. But even so, Jahn Kottman, who had taken a Sealed Artifact from the city and rushed here, still felt uneasy. It felt like suddenly jumping forward while on his long journey towards death.
The only person without any godhood had fled the scene before Jahn Kottman arrived, and he was nowhere to be found.
However, Jahn Kottman recognized him.
He was an adventurer who had killed a Sequence 5 Desire Apostle, making him qualified to have his information placed on Sea King’s desk!
Although this wasn’t something that he needed to pay great attention to, Jahn Kottman, who had experienced the Seafarer Sequence, still remembered the relevant information.
He cast his gaze towards the cliff and looked down at the crashing waves as he muttered a name: “Gehrman Sparrow!”
…
On an island in unknown waters, Klein and Azik’s figures were rapidly outlined on the shore.
Klein was just about to speak when the hat-wearing, bronze-skinned Azik’s eyes suddenly turned dark, as though it was connected to a silent and dark world.
He grabbed the air with his right hand, and all the undeveloped white feathers flew out and curled into a bundle, landing in his palm.
With a gentle squeeze, all the strange feathers vanished as though they had turned into food for the silent world in his eyes.
“Mr. Azik, this was brought about by that Numinous Episcopate whistle.” Klein first pointed out the matter before explaining in detail. “The situation was somewhat pressing, and to make the situation even more chaotic, I blew that copper whistle and gave that feather to the messenger. Then, a similar feeling from the Underworld descended. I didn’t stay, and I immediately left the area, but I still had these feathers on my body.”
Azik, with his soft facial features, nodded gently and said, “I sensed it from afar.
“It shouldn’t be an ordinary High-Sequence Beyonder. I suspect that it’s a byproduct of the Numinous Episcopate’s Artificial Death Project.”
Azik looked around and continued, “I still have matters that require my attention. This might awaken more of my memories.
“When all of that is done, I’ll look for you again to claim that ring left behind by ancient Death. I have a feeling that I might need to make a trip to the Berserk Sea or the Southern Continent.
“It’s best if you head over to large cities like Backlund or Trier. In those places, the forces the Rose School of Thought can deploy are very limited. They wouldn’t dare to act rashly. Of course, it’s best that you choose places like Pasu Island where major Churches have their headquarters, but this will bring about another type of danger.”
Azik’s last sentence was a joke, just like an ordinary Loen gentleman. The experiences of his present life seemed to leave a deep impression on him. Regardless of the portion of memories that he had recovered, he still showed clear signs of his old self.
Azik shook his head.
“I didn’t even know of ‘Her’ existence before you sent me the letter.”
Azik shook his head again as he said with a smiling sigh, “In ancient times, ‘She’ or ‘They’ might have had other names.”
With Mr. Azik gone, Klein looked at the seawater that kept surging towards the shore for a few seconds. He wasn’t in a rush to head for the nearby city; instead, he found an uninhabited cave, set up a simple ritual, and created a wall of spirituality. He sacrificed Creeping Hunger, Death Knell, Azik’s copper whistle, Groselle’s Travels, and the soil with Senor’s blood to the mysterious space above the gray fog.
Then, he walked four steps counterclockwise and entered the mysterious space. He took the seat which belonged to The Fool, and he summoned a metal bottle.
As it was stored above the gray fog, the remnant blood in the tiny bottle didn’t coagulate. After wearing his glove and stuffing the other items, Klein poured a few drops and smeared it over Groselle’s Travels’s dark brown cover.
Before he had the time to think, his vision turned into a blur, as though there were countless translucent creatures hidden around him.
Everything soon turned clear, and Klein found himself sitting on a long wooden chair along the street.
This was where he had departed from previously.
Following the results he received, he walked out of the city, entered a nearby forest, and found the unconscious Admiral of Blood beside a small stream.
At this moment, only about ten minutes had passed since the battle.
The exaggerated wounds, on Senor’s neck, chest, and abdomen, were contracting and appeared to have recovered significantly. Such a level of vitality was completely different from a human’s.
In another fifteen to thirty minutes, Admiral of Blood would likely wake up, and in another one to two hours, his mobility would be restored.
This was a Zombie, a Wraith!
The necklace had a pendant of the same color which resembled an ancient coin. Both sides were filled with mysterious patterns and relevant symbols, as well as words carved in ancient Hermes: “You will be as unlucky as you are lucky now.”
He was afraid that there were unknown side effects that might affect the things he was about to do.
Then, Klein focused as he controlled Admiral of Blood’s Spirit Body Threads.
He wanted to make his first marionette which he would use for an extended period of time, so as to conclude the principles of a Marionettist.
Furthermore, no marionette was more convenient to bring around than a Wraith!
One second, two seconds, three seconds… In just ten seconds, Klein achieved initial control.
Senor’s spiritual intuition sensed the danger as his body showed obvious signs of struggling, but he was unable to wake up due to his heavy injuries and sluggish thoughts.
Time ticked by, and by the fourth minute, Klein didn’t hide his sigh of relief.
At that moment, Admiral of Blood Senor opened his eyes, rolled to his feet, and faced him. With a harmonious series of actions, he pressed his chest and bowed.
“Good morning, sir. How may I be of service?”
