It can only last for about a minute … Isn't that too short … A thought flashed through Klein's mind. Without considering anything else, he took two steps and arrived in front of the desk.
He put down Rosell's Travels, held 0-08, and quickly wrote on a piece of paper:
George III plans on using this speech to bait out all the enemies who want to destroy his ritual. But if everything goes smoothly and nothing unexpected happens, he will also take the opportunity to consume the potion and reveal his trump card to attempt the advancement to the level of a deity. After all, there are too many unknowns in the future, and it's similarly not safe. Besides, his present preparations are sufficiently perfect and appropriate.
"This is a very reasonable development."
After finishing the last sentence, before Klein could seriously check if there were any mistakes in the content, the slightly dim quill in his hand silently vanished, as though it had never existed.
And the contents of those few short sentences seemed to drain Klein of all his energy, making him feel a little dizzy. He had no choice but to take a few steps back and sit down on a chair.
That doesn't make sense … I didn't see how exhausted and strenuous Ince Zangwill was back then … Uh, it should be because I forcefully summoned it and didn't dare to let 0-08 weave its own story. When writing, I had to rely on my own spirituality to support me. As for Ince Zangwill, he could obtain 0-08's cooperation, so the expenditure wouldn't be that great … Klein closed his eyes and Cogitated for a while before he finally recovered.
Under normal circumstances, it was impossible for him to summon this Grade 0 Sealed Artifact without any actual contact with 0-08 and having only met it once. However, on the one hand, he had the Snake of Fate personally augmenting him with luck. On the other hand, he had Groselle's Travels. This was an item left behind by the Dragon of Imagination Ankewelt. Inside it hid the City of Miracles, Liveseyd. It had a deep connection with 0-08. If not for the interference of certain high-level existences, the two items would have long met.
Klein didn't know if the connection between fate and characteristics could increase the chances of a successful summoning. He only thought that he wouldn't lose anything by giving it a try, and he really succeeded.
And it was precisely because of this that he didn't dare use Rosell's Travels to carry the contents written by 0-08's projection. He didn't even dare let them approach, afraid that an unavoidable accident would happen.
This was Baekeland, a city with a high population density!
Yes, logically speaking, there shouldn't be any accidents. After all, 0-08 is an image from the Historical Void. It's fake. Rosell's Travels was conjured by the Dragon of Imagination, so it's also fake. A fake with a fake doesn't make it real. It lacks the material foundation of a Beyonder characteristic … I can experiment on an uninhabited reef island later … Klein rubbed his temples, stood up, and returned to his desk to examine the text he had just written.
He didn't directly write that George III's advancement had failed and that he had perished on the spot because he believed that when it came to interfering with a Sequence 1 angel, it was impossible to do it so directly with the projection of 0-08. He had to be more tactful.
Furthermore, there was the Psychological Alchemy and Amon's brother on the other side. If the influence was too obvious, it would definitely be detected and easily used. Klein could only take a roundabout approach to reduce the number of unknowns.
I hope it's useful … After staring at it for a while, Klein folded the piece of paper and stuffed it into his pocket.
Then, he sacrificed Rosell's Travels to the world above the gray fog.
After doing all of this, Klein began to consider another problem. It was when he should go out to buy ice cream for Will Auceptin.
Baekeland has Zaratul, and it's very likely that there's Amon. If I go out too often, I might bump into him. It's a little dangerous … Why don't I summon ice cream from the Historical Void for Will? It'll be very real when I eat it, and it'll disappear after fifteen minutes. I don't have to worry about getting fat at all. It's just too wonderful … Klein couldn't help but mutter inwardly.
In the end, he decided to change his clothes and head out because he had to keep his promises!
…
On Saturday morning, the sky was gray and misty, making people feel depressed for no reason.
This was a common scene in Baekeland in the middle of winter. Although it was not as thick and pungent as last year, the geographical environment and climate determined that such a situation would inevitably exist for a long time. Moreover, the control of air pollution could not be declared a success in a year or two.
Melissa draped a knee-length black coat over her long dress and put on a black gauze hat before walking quickly to the door.
Benson held his top hat and shook his head when he saw this.
"A girl who's not even twenty years old should dress like a girl who's not even twenty years old. That's too mature and old-fashioned, understand? So old-fashioned. "
Melissa glanced at her brother and gave a simple reply.
"Another quarter-penny a pound of bread."
"This price …" Baansen sighed.
He then took out the silver pocket watch covered in vine patterns, opened it, and glanced at it.
"Let's go. There's still a long way to go to the municipal square."
Melissa tersely acknowledged and walked out with her brother to the streets.
"Good morning, Mrs. Daniel." After taking a few steps forward, Baansen saw a neighbor walk out and greeted her with a smile.
He was good at socializing and had long established a good relationship with the neighbors around him.
The lady who was addressed as Mrs. Daniel was dressed in a pure black dress. She was in her forties and had a thin face. Her face was covered by a black gauze that hung down from her hat.
"Good morning, both of you."
She didn't make any small talk and walked away coldly.
Baansen looked at her back and deliberately slowed down his footsteps. Only when there was some distance between them did he turn his head to ask his sister.
"What happened to Mrs. Daniel?
"I've been too busy recently. I haven't visited the neighbors in a long time."
Melissa pursed her lips.
"Mrs. Daniel's eldest son, Larry, has been confirmed to have been killed at the front lines in the Amantha Mountains. That was yesterday's news."
"That tall, shy, but attentive, kind, and sincere lad? When he came back the last time, he said that he was promoted in the army and became a lieutenant … "Baansen asked in surprise.
Melissa nodded.
"I can't imagine Larry dying just like that either …"
Just like how she couldn't imagine a classmate she knew in school dying tragically in front of her.
In just a few short seconds, some people could no longer speak, communicate, or study.
Baansen fell silent for a moment before sighing.
"I've been busy recently. Actually, I've been dealing with the pension issue. Perhaps the list I received didn't include Larry, so I'm not sure.
Some were cheerful and passionate, some were humorous and witty, some were the only son of their parents, some had a determined personality and were the leaders of the soldiers around them, some had just gotten married and didn't have children, some were preparing a gift for their youngest daughter, and some had a love letter on them, planning to send it to the post office after the battle … All of them are dead. "
Melissa and Baansen fell silent at the same time. Neither of them spoke for a long time.
When they were about to reach the intersection, Melissa looked at the road ahead and said softly,
"What do you think His Majesty will be speaking about today?"
"Perhaps it's to mobilize, or perhaps it's to convey the conviction of victory," Baansen replied casually.
Melissa turned her head to glance at her brother.
"This isn't like you, Baansen. Shouldn't you be mocking him?"
"Mocking should be done after listening to the speech and figuring out the specific content. The most basic principle of being a person is not to comment on things you don't know well enough. Otherwise, you're worse than a curly-haired baboon," Baansen said with a smile.
At that moment, he saw another neighbor.
The person had white hair and used a scarf to cover half his face. He wore a thick jacket and held a cloth bag in his hand as he hurriedly walked past the siblings.
"Mr. Thomas is dressed so strangely … Is he doing something else in passing?" Baansen looked at the person's back and asked in puzzlement.
Melissa replied in a very soft voice, "Mrs. Thomas is sick and has spent quite a bit of the family's savings.
"Mrs. Thomas is ill, and has spent a good deal of the family's savings; and the price of food has gone up a great deal lately, and Mr. Thomas's income has not changed much, and he has to queue up at the alms-house every few days for some bread. He is a respectable gentleman, and probably does not wish to be recognized.
"Also, the food at the relief shop is always limited. It's very likely that there won't be any left if he's too late. He has to apply for extra food from the church or the workhouse. The relief shop starts today after His Majesty's speech. Mr. Thomas probably wants to head there directly."
Baansen nodded slowly and asked in concern,
"What's wrong with Mrs. Thomas? I know a few good doctors. "
"An illness caused by worry." Melissa recounted the news she heard. "Mrs. Thomas is very worried about her youngest son who's serving in the army."
"Are you talking about Thomas Jr.?" Baansen frowned slightly.
After getting his sister's confirmation, he fell silent, as if he was thinking about something.
After a while, when they approached the nearest municipal square, Baansen looked ahead and said in a low voice,
"Thomas Jr. is dead …"
Melissa didn't respond. She seemed to be in a daze for a moment.
Once again, they silently walked forward, as if relying on inertia.
More and more people appeared in front of them. These people were either wearing formal suits, holding canes, dressed like gentlemen, or wearing blue, green, yellow, or red skirts. Some wore sweaters, jackets, and trousers, while others wore dark, low-toned dresses.
They came out of their houses and came from the streets they were on. Like splashes of water, they merged together at the intersection and formed a stream.
The stream surged forward, and many streams converged, interweaving into a majestic torrent at the entrance of the square.
The torrent surged forward slowly, drowning the square.
Placed in the sea of people, Melissa felt that she was as insignificant as a drop of water.
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