novellaaa Chapter 81 Full Moon
Chapter 81 Full Moon
Chapter 81 Full Moon
Above the gray fog, inside that magnificent, ancient palace that resembled the dwelling place of giants.
Klein leaned back in the high-backed chair belonging to "The Fool," holding a blackened, eerie ear in his hand, his brow furrowed.
This is what Cyril just sacrificed to him, a "Listener" extraordinary characteristic that has been corrupted by the "True Creator".
"In just a few days, this guy has come into contact with another hidden being, and it's a named evil god."
"Even if one day he tells me that he has come into contact with all the evil gods, hidden beings, and righteous gods, I probably won't be surprised. I might even give him a thumbs up and marvel at his incredible luck."
After muttering a few words of lament, Klein held the sinister ear that had been corrupted by the "True Creator" in one hand and the materialized paper and pen in the other, intending to make a divination.
After a minute or two of silence, at the head of the mottled long table, Klein's body suddenly exploded.
Immediately afterwards, the gray fog in the entire space suddenly surged, like a raging sea, with layers of "giant waves" constantly crashing against everything around it.
It lasted for nearly half a minute before everything finally calmed down.
Klein, his face pale as he reassembled his body, leaned back in the high-backed chair, his expression still strained; he hadn't fully recovered from the pain he had just endured.
"This is terrifying language and pollution; it's even worse than staring directly at the 'Eternal Sun' last time."
"Is it because the 'True Creator' is stronger than the 'Eternal Flame,' or is it because this item contains more contamination?"
As he muttered to himself, he thought of a way to use this item to extract the pollution it contained and make it into a special talisman.
"When danger arises, simply activate the talisman, and everyone, regardless of who they are, must listen to the words from the 'True Creator.'"
"Because I've frequently encountered these kinds of situations, I'm more resistant to the 'true creator's' verbal attacks than most people, and I can recover in a shorter time, allowing me to turn the tables."
The more Klein thought about it, the better the idea seemed. The only problem now was that he didn't know how to extract the contamination from it to make a talisman.
"My knowledge of occultism isn't enough yet. ::"
The next day, after a quick dinner, Sirion arrived at Irving's house before nightfall.
Today is the full moon, and as a descendant of the Abraham family, Owen will inevitably hear the words from "the door." He must keep an eye on the other party to prevent this unlucky fellow from going out of control.
Irving: "I think you have a misunderstanding about my luck. Although some unexpected things did happen before, my luck can't always be that bad."
Cyril ignored him, leisurely leaning back on the sofa, sipping his coffee from Intis, which was said to be Emperor Roselle's favorite.
However, Sirion was skeptical. He felt that Russell, as a remnant of the old order, was unlikely to like coffee that was even more bitter than an Americano. After all, his previous life as a worker was already tough enough, and there was no need for him to suffer any more.
pat!
The sound of a cup hitting the ground suddenly rang out, and the still steaming coffee spilled onto the floor.
Cyril quickly put down the half-finished coffee in his hand, got up and walked over to Owen.
The latter was lying on the ground, clutching his head with both hands, his face contorted in pain, curled up in a ball, not even noticing the cuts his skin had made from the broken glass.
Xi Ruien glanced out the window. The thick fog in the sky, so thick that it was hard to tell whether it was clouds or smog, had dissipated, revealing a crimson full moon.
Crimson moonlight streamed through the glass window and fell onto the floor of the room. Accompanied by Owen's heavy, painful groans, Cyril felt as if she could also hear faint whispers in her ear.
"Wait, can Mr. 'Door's' speech patterns be contagious?" Sirien seemed a little confused.
He tilted his head slightly, listened intently for a moment, and confirmed that he had indeed heard the voice, but he was unsure whether it came from Mr. "Door," and he did not feel uncomfortable.
He listened intently for a while, but couldn't glean anything meaningful from the whispers in his ear.
"Is it because I am not a descendant of the Abraham family?"
He whispered something, and just to be safe, he recited the honorific name of "The Fool":
"A fool who does not belong to this era, a mysterious ruler above the gray fog, the king of yellow and black who holds the reins of good fortune."
"I beg for your gaze, I beg for your protection...:"
Above the gray fog, inside the magnificent and ancient palace, Klein saw Cyril's current state through the lights of prayer.
The crimson moonlight filtering through the window seemed distorted, covering Cyril and the person curled up at his feet. It was as if some high-ranking being had established a connection with them through the moonlight, conveying something to them.
Because of the filtering effect of the gray fog, he couldn't hear the murmurs of Cyril's prayers and could only rely on his own experience to judge that there was indeed a high-ranking being influencing them.
"Just yesterday I heard the words of the 'True Creator,' and tonight another hidden being connected to the Crimson Moon has arrived."
"Is this guy coming into contact with evil gods and hidden beings far too often?"
"Or is it that the evil gods and hidden beings in this world are so numerous that they can be encountered casually?"
After muttering a few words to himself, Klein created an upgraded version of the holy water from the gray mist, following yesterday's method. Then, through the connection of the prayer light, he sprinkled a few drops of the liquid onto Sirion.
In the living room of the Owen family, a gray mist suddenly surged before Sirion's eyes, and then a few shimmering drops of water flew out from the gray mist and dripped onto him.
A pure, silvery-white light, like the dawn, flashed by, and then Cyril found that the indistinct murmur in his ear had disappeared, as if it had been abruptly moved to another place.
He looked down at Owen, who was struggling in agony at his feet. Worm-like things were beginning to grow from Owen's torn flesh, growing wildly into the air.
"Ah...help, help me..."
"It hurts...I..."
Cyril frowned; the full moon's devouring aura around Owen was even more severe than before.
Even if he can hold on today, it will be almost impossible for him to get through next month on his own.
As he pondered, he heard the patient's calm voice:
"He can recite my name."
"OK."
Cyril nodded slightly in response, then reached out and pulled a dark curtain from the air, covering the moonlit window with it.
The moonlight was blocked, but Irving's condition did not improve.
"It just didn't work."
He sighed, half-squatted down, placed one hand on Irving's trembling shoulder, and said softly:
Repeat after me:
From the unknowable sublime...
A gateway to dimensions...
An embodiment of art and fantasy.
Under his guidance, Owen painstakingly repeated the name he had just recited in ancient Hermetic.
Almost at the same time, Cyril heard the faint, layered sounds of prayer in his ears.
He immediately closed his eyes, entered a meditative state, and focused his mind to respond to the echoing prayers in his ears.
He easily established a connection with the echoing prayers in his ears, and then his spirit began to ascend, entering a higher dimension, a dimension that could overlook everything.
Following the sound of prayers in his ears, he easily locked his gaze on Irving, and then tried to reach out and pull him, just like he usually did with the "black screen" trick.
Without a sound, darkness appeared and enveloped Irving.
It's like a drop of ink being poured onto a painting; the content that was originally visible to the naked eye is instantly covered up and replaced.
Owen, who was curled up on the floor groaning in pain, paused. The words that had been echoing in his ears disappeared, and even the pain in his body disappeared, leaving only cold darkness.
He looked around helplessly, trying to stretch his arms and legs, but found that he could no longer feel his body.
"I...I'm not going to die, am I? Is this the underworld?"
"But I am a believer in steam, shouldn't I enter the 'Perfect Land' after death? Is it because I wasn't devout enough?"
As he muttered to himself, a magnificent, layered, extremely cold, and condescending voice suddenly echoed:
"This is the shadow of a dimension, a place beyond reality. Here, you will not hear any sounds."
Despite not being able to feel his own body, Owen felt a distinct stiffness and fear at this moment. He recalled the sacred name he had just recited under the guidance of Sirion.
Although still somewhat confused, he had already realized what was going on:
"You...you are the being I just recited?"
After waiting for a while, the voice from before never rang out again, as if it had been forgotten.
Just like when he casually helps an ant cross a ditch, he immediately forgets about it; things that are too insignificant to be remembered or paid attention to.