Aiur Harson echoed, "Indeed.
It's hard to imagine that Seer's successor would be Clown. According to normal logic, no one would link them together. "
"Is that strange? I remember that many pathways' Sequence potions lack the necessary connection. " The black-haired lady, Lorotta, covered her mouth as she yawned. It was obvious that her injuries were rather serious. Even the Goddess's Gaze was unable to maintain her exuberant energy.
"No, Lorotta. This is completely different. Even if the other Sequence potions lack a connection, we can still find similarities in other aspects. However, Seer and Clown can't. I can't understand it at all." Aiur Harson shook his head and sighed.
When Klein heard their discussion, he laughed and said, "No, there are still similarities.
"No, they still have something in common."
"What is it?" Aiur asked out of curiosity. Dunn's stretching of his arm clearly slowed down.
Klein answered in all seriousness, "Be it Seer or Clown, they can be found in a circus."
"…" Aiur, Dunn, and Lorotta were momentarily stunned.
"Pfft … Not a bad answer. I like young people like you!" The black-haired lady, Lorotta, was the first to snap out of her daze as she laughed.
"Pfft … Not a bad answer. I like young people like you!" The black-haired lady, Lorotta, was the first to snap out of her daze as she laughed.
Aiur revealed a smile as well and shook his head.
"In this day and age, there are fewer and fewer gentlemen with the spirit of self-deprecating. Fortunately, we met one today."
Do you think I like to self-deprecate … It's because I didn't think of any other similarities … Klein lampooned silently before replying with a slightly bitter smile.
"I only wish that this Sequence pathway's potion would not have names like 'Beast Tamer,' 'Acrobat,' or 'Magicians.' That would really form a circus."
Furthermore, it would be a one-man circus …
"Haha." Dunn and company were immediately amused by his words. The carriage was filled with a cheerful atmosphere.
The carriage advanced all the way to Zouteland Street. The uninjured Klein was the first to enter the Blackthorn Security Company.
"Goddess! What happened to you? How did you end up like this? "Roshan took a casual glance and exclaimed.
Klein looked down at his dirty and damaged suit and replied with a pained expression, "That's right.
"There are always accidents like this and that in missions. Fortunately, with the blessing of the goddess, the ending was beautiful."
"Praise the Goddess!" Roshan devoutly drew a crimson moon on her chest.
Without waiting for Klein to speak, she took the initiative to ask,
"Do we need to hide on the third floor again? Is that Sealed Artifact really that dangerous? "
"Trust me, it's more dangerous than you think," Klein replied with lingering fear.
If not for his even more mysterious luck enhancement ritual, he would have perished at 2-049's hands!
"Goddess …" Roshan's lips quivered, as though she had a lot more to say and many questions to ask. But considering that the Captain was waiting downstairs, she finally resisted the urge. She called for Mrs. Orianna and company to head to the third floor — the two floors next to the Blackthorn Security Company. The floors above and below were either properties of the Church, or were occupied by devout priests who were vaguely aware of the situation.
After all the civilian staff had left, Klein didn't rush to the recreation room to inform the other Nighthawks. He immediately returned and helped the Captain and company escort Sealed Artifact 2-049, Monster Bieber's remnant, and the Antigonus family's notebook to the second floor.
Passing through the partition, Dunn pushed open the recreation room's door and said to the two Nighthawks who were playing Gwent,
"Frye, Royale, immediately head to the dock area's Tyrell warehouse and assist Leonard in the aftermath."
"Alright." The raven-haired, cold-looking Royale was the first to stand up.
The black-haired, blue-eyed, pale-skinned Corpse Collector Frye stood up as well.
They put down their Gwent cards and walked out of the recreation room. When they passed through the partition, they paused for a moment.
"Wait." Dunn didn't let everyone down as he shouted.
"Is there anything else?" Sleepless Royale turned her head and asked without a change in expression.
"Remember to inform the police and get them to seal off the road. Before you deal with the scene and move the corpses back, don't let anyone approach," Dunn said as he smacked his forehead.
"Alright." Royale turned around, took two steps forward, and then stopped.
She turned around, blinked her eyes, and coldly confirmed,
She confirmed coldly, "Captain, is there nothing else?"
"No," Dunn answered firmly.
Royale nodded indiscernibly and walked towards the door.
As for Corpse Collector Frye, he maintained his unhurried pace with his cold and gloomy aura.
At that moment, Dunn spoke again.
"Remember to tell Roshan and Mrs. Orianna that they can come down now."
"No problem," Frye replied in a calm, almost emotionless manner.
After watching the two Nighthawks walk out the door and climb up to the third floor, Klein heaved a sigh of relief. He followed the Captain, Aiur, and the rest into the basement. They walked straight and arrived at Chanis Gate.
"Go to the armory and get Old Neil here. We need his ritualistic magic to treat us." Dunn instructed Klein as he gestured for Sleepless Kenley to open Chanis Gate.
As the effects of the potion faded, his mind gradually became sluggish.
"Alright." Klein didn't wait for the Captain's reply as he continued, "I will watch the armory in place of Old Neil. I will also request for at least twenty demon-hunting bullets and wait for the Holy Cathedral's approval. I will hold back my curiosity about the Antigonus family's notebook."
"…" Dunn was momentarily at a loss for words.
"Captain, there's nothing else, right?" Klein asked with a smile after he finished answering.
Dunn shook his head, still unable to speak.
Taking out his cane, Klein turned around and walked towards the armory. He told Old Neil, who was drinking water, what had happened.
"You became a monster that lost control … You even killed a Beyonder?" Old Neil quickly cleared the table. "It's like I'm listening to the script of a play."
He walked around the table and headed straight for the corridor without waiting for Klein's reply.
Klein asked out of curiosity, "What's the matter?
"Mr. Neil, doesn't the Church have any true healing potions? He actually needed the help of ritualistic magic. "
"Potions concocted with ordinary ingredients cannot solidify the healing effect of the ritual for a long time. Extraordinary ingredients are rare, and most of them are not suitable for such things." Old Neil casually explained, "You should know about the 'Goddess's Gaze'. When this potion is first made through the ritual, it's a standard, real healing potion. But every minute after that, the effect will evaporate until there's only a little left."
"I see …" Klein nodded in disappointment.
As a former "keyboard adventurer," he was also a game enthusiast. It was a matter of habit for him to yearn for healing potions.
After watching Old Neil leave, he sat down and felt the peace that he hadn't felt for a long time.
In this peace, he recalled the tragic state of the suited clown before his death. He recalled his cold-blooded shooting, and he recalled the hideous wound and the blood that gushed out.
Klein's body gradually trembled, and his heart was filled with discomfort. He first stood up, then sat down, and then slowly repeated the process. He even paced back and forth.
"Phew …" He exhaled, intending to find something to do so that he wouldn't keep thinking of those unpleasant images.
Klein took off his top hat and suit, took out a handkerchief and brush, and carefully cleaned the dirt and dust from his clothes.
After an unknown period of time, he heard the familiar footsteps of Old Neil. It was a special sound created by the heel landing on the ground first.
"How tiring …" Old Neil grumbled as he walked into the room.
"Tell the others not to come here for an hour. I need some rest." He glanced at Klein and casually instructed.
"Why don't you rest upstairs while I keep watch here?" Klein kindly suggested.
Old Neil shook his head.
"It's too noisy upstairs. Little Roshan is a girl who can't stop talking."
"Alright." Klein didn't insist. He put on his coat and hat, picked up his cane, and returned to the corridor. He then pulled the door of the armory half-closed.
Thud, thud, thud. He slowly walked down the empty hallway and suddenly saw a room that he had never seen before.
"There's a secret door here …" Klein stopped near the corner and looked into the room.
He discovered that Corpse Collector Frye had already returned and was carefully examining a corpse that had been completely stripped naked.
A corpse? Something stirred in Klein's heart. He summoned his courage and approached the room. He knocked on the open door three times.
Knock. Knock.
Frye stopped, turned around, and looked at him with his cold blue eyes.
"Sorry to disturb you. I just want to know if this is the corpse of that Beyonder?" Klein asked in a measured tone.
"Yes." Frye's thin lips opened and closed, but he only spat out a single word.
Klein looked past him and at the corpse. Indeed, he saw the familiar, hideous wound on the forehead.
It's that suited clown … Klein secretly heaved a sigh of relief and said,
"Did you find anything?"
"No," Frye answered in an unusually concise manner.
The atmosphere turned awkward. Klein was about to bid farewell when Frye took the initiative to speak.
"If you feel unwell, you can come in and take a look. You'll find that it's just a corpse."
Are you afraid that I might have a psychological disorder? Klein nodded thoughtfully.
"Alright."
He entered the room and came to the long table covered with a white cloth. He looked at the corpse.
The red, yellow, and white paint on the suited clown's face had all been removed, revealing an unfamiliar face with nothing special. He had black hair, a high nose bridge, and looked to be in his thirties.
At that moment, Frye walked to the square table in the corner and picked up a pencil and a piece of white paper.
He returned to the corpse and placed the piece of white paper down. He picked up the pencil and began drawing.
Klein glanced curiously and realized that Frye was sketching the suited clown's head.
Before long, Frye stopped drawing. There was a lifelike portrait on the white paper. Compared to the corpse, the only difference was that it didn't have any wounds. It only had blue eyes.
What a talent … Klein exclaimed in surprise.
"I didn't expect … I didn't expect your sketch to be so good."
"Before I became a Nighthawk, my dream was to be an artist." Frye's tone was flat.
"Then why don't you fulfill your dream?" Klein asked, puzzled.
Frye put down the pencil and held the suited clown's portrait.
"My father was a priest of the Goddess. He hoped that I would become a priest too. It's a respectable profession."
"You were a priest before?" Klein asked again in surprise.
He found it hard to imagine a person with Frye's personality and temperament as a priest.
"Yes, it wasn't bad." Frye's expression was cold. The corners of his mouth curled up slightly as he replied, "Later, I encountered and experienced some things before I became a Nighthawk."
Klein didn't pry into Frye's privacy in detail.
Instead, he asked, "You were once a priest of the Goddess, so why didn't you choose Sleepless?"
"A personal reason," Frye answered frankly. "Besides, Ma 'am Daly is a good role model."
Klein nodded. Just as he was about to change the topic, he heard Frye say, "Help me look after this place.
I have to hand the portrait to the Captain immediately … It's very troublesome to close the secret door. "
"Alright." Although Klein was a little afraid of facing the corpse alone, he forced himself to agree.
After Frye left, the room became quiet. The corpse lying there weighed heavily on Klein's heart.
He took a deep breath and approached the long table as if he was trying to defeat himself.
The suited clown lay there quietly. His face was pale and his eyes were tightly shut. He had lost all signs of life. Apart from his hideous wounds, he exuded a coldness unique to the dead.
Klein stared at him for a while. His emotions gradually settled down and he seemed to have calmed down.
He swept his gaze and noticed a strange brand on the suited clown's wrist. He mustered his courage and reached out to touch it. He wanted to flip it over to get a better look.
Just as the cold sensation traveled from Klein's fingertips to his brain, the pale, lifeless palm suddenly shot up and grabbed his wrist.
It grabbed his wrist tightly!
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