Heart of Mechanics Squad

After struggling for a while, Klein decided to listen to this sudden, somewhat bizarre prayer directed at "The Fool."

He still had some confidence in this place above the gray fog. Last night, when he divined the origin of the mutated Sun Sacred Emblem, he had stared directly at the "Eternal Blazing Sun" and ended up scorched, but the final result was merely a period of mental exhaustion.

He did not believe that the "Fool" worshipped by the other party possessed power exceeding that of the "Eternal Blazing Sun."

Otherwise, there would be eight orthodox deities in this world instead of seven.

Thinking this, he extended his spirituality, reaching out to the crimson star that was constantly contracting and expanding above the boundless gray fog.

In an instant, the crimson light surged, condensing into a somewhat dim scene within the ancient palace above the gray fog.

He saw a figure covered in blood sitting on a floor littered with mirror shards, their expression twisted in agony as they prayed to "The Fool."

Klein's gaze slid from this "bloodied man" to his surroundings; he saw flickering candles, strange symbols drawn with unknown pigments, and silver daggers, crystals, and herbs commonly used in rituals.

He instantly reconstructed the sequence of events in his mind... another young occult enthusiast courting death, performing the wrong ritual in the wrong way, and inviting unknown danger.

It was a pity, but some time had already passed since the prayer began, and even if he wanted to save them, it was too late.

Moreover, he could only maintain his mystery above this gray fog; he might not actually be able to save the other party. After all, who would have thought that the mysterious and powerful Mr. Fool was, in reality, just a Sequence 9 "Seer"?

Just as he finished lamenting, Klein suddenly froze. He saw the "bloodied man" in the prayer scene, having finished praying to him, move on to the next target without the slightest hesitation or pause.

"Higher than the starry sky, more eternal than eternity, Goddess of Night, you are the Lord of the Crimson, the Mother of Concealment..."

Stunned for a moment, Klein immediately reacted, complaining from the bottom of his heart:

"This guy is definitely not a serious believer, or even a sane person. Who mixes the honorific names of orthodox deities and evil gods while praying without even a pause? Are they in a hurry to die?"

"This is likely not a trap. God knows how many orthodox deities, evil gods, correct, and incorrect honorific names this guy recited before coincidentally reciting the honorific name of 'The Fool'."

Just as he finished complaining, a surprising change occurred in the prayer scene.

He saw that the "bloodied man" who had been praying haphazardly had actually received a response.

He heard a gentle voice, like a warm spring breeze that could soothe the heart, coming from the prayer scene:

"I am here."

Klein: (@[]@!!)

"This is unscientific!"

At the same time, a simple and gentle priest with a warm smile on his face and wearing a plain white robe appeared abruptly in the prayer scene.

He had a thick, light-gold beard that covered the lower half of his face, clear and innocent golden eyes like those of an infant, and a silver cross pendant hanging on his chest, looking like the most ordinary of priests.

But Klein knew him—or rather, Him—and He was definitely not ordinary.

Being able to respond to a prayer and appearing so promptly, He was definitely a high-sequence Beyonder.

More importantly, Klein clearly saw and heard that after the other party finished reciting the honorific name of the "Goddess of Night," he only said two words: Adam!

"If it wasn't for some existence deliberately delaying the response, then this golden-haired priest must have been responding to those last two words. In any case, it couldn't be the Goddess, and it certainly couldn't be me."

"Adam—is this His name, or part of His honorific name?"

As these thoughts flickered, he found the prayer scene becoming hazy, as if covered by a layer of water vapor, making it difficult to see clearly.

Clearly, this existence who responded to the prayer did not wish for anyone to spy on Him, or perhaps His level was simply too high, and His mere presence caused the surroundings to become unobservable.

Until the prayer scene ended, Klein did not see any other useful information, but the crimson star above the boundless gray fog had stabilized. As long as Klein wished, he could establish a connection with the other party at any time.

Klein leaned back in his high-backed chair, rubbing his forehead and sighing:

"What an inexplicable and absurd prayer. The mysterious world is still too dangerous for ordinary people."

"Judging from the room's decor and his accent, this guy who treats the honorific names of gods like catchphrases should be a Loenese. I can ask Miss Justice and The Hanged Man to investigate during the next Tarot Club gathering."

He paused and materialized his usual Citrine Pendant. This matter was full of coincidences; although it didn't seem dangerous, he decided to perform a divination just to be safe.

At the same time, Backlund, 93 Weldi Street, South Bridge District.

Cyril was in the living room, being questioned by two members of a Heart of Mechanics squad disguised as sheriffs.

"Hello, I am Max Livermore, an inspector from the South Bridge District Police Department, and this is my assistant, Carlson. We are investigating a serious case involving cultists and hope for your cooperation."

The speaker was a middle-aged man who looked somewhat seasoned, with regular features, a high hairline, and graying temples.

The black double-breasted frock coat he wore was bulging in various places; it seemed that besides standard-issue firearms, this inspector was equipped with a lot of extra gear.

Standing half a step behind him, Carlson was a young man in his twenties, just over 1.8 meters tall, somewhat lean, but quite handsome, with a maturity in his light blue eyes that far exceeded his peers.

He also carried extra equipment besides his sidearm—mechanical equipment, standard-issue gear.

They did not hide their mechanical equipment too much; it seemed that in their common sense, this was just normal, everyday gear.

Cyril withdrew his scrutinizing gaze and nodded slightly at the two Heart of Mechanics members disguised as sheriffs.

The reason he could recognize them as members of the Heart of Mechanics was simple: compared to ordinary sheriffs, their equipment was a bit too luxurious.

Except for the Church of the God of Steam and Machinery, the world's largest arms dealer, it was difficult for other forces to arm even an ordinary member to the teeth.

Of course, more importantly, he could see the thick, almost exaggerated spirituality on the two men. This seemed to be a special ability brought about by his own extremely high status. He wasn't sure if this was Spirit Vision, but he figured it was close enough; in any case, he was very sensitive to changes and fluctuations in spirituality.

Although he hadn't met many Beyonders, he intuitively felt that the level of spirituality on the two men belonged to the Sequence 8 to Sequence 7 range, which fit the configuration of an official Beyonder squad perfectly.

Suppressing the restless thoughts in his mind, he sat on the sofa behind him and looked at the two disguised "Sheriffs," saying in a very calm tone:

"Officers, I don't believe I have ever had contact with any cultists, at least not to my own knowledge."

"I am not sure what you two wish to ask, but as long as it is something I know, I will certainly try my best to recall it and answer earnestly."

Max Livermore nodded with a gentle expression: "There is no need to be nervous; we are just conducting a routine inquiry."

"Are you aware of the World Truth Society? A club established by students within Backlund University who pursue the occult."

Cyril nodded without hesitation: "I am aware of it; I am one of its members."

And a founding member at that!

The expressions on the faces of Max Livermore and Carlson did not change, clearly indicating they had already known this; the previous question was merely to open the conversation or perhaps a bit of probing.

After a brief silence, Carlson continued the topic from before: "Last weekend, within two days, three people lost their lives due to performing evil rituals. The common thread among them is that they were all members of the World Truth Society, and specifically, members from the very first batch."

Cyril was stunned for a moment. The news shared by these two members of the Heart of Mechanics was completely beyond his expectations, and images of familiar faces surfaced and vanished in his mind.

They were all founding members of the World Truth Society. Including him, there were six of them in total, all students of Backlund University who had gathered together due to shared interests and established the World Truth Society under the promotion of a wealthy man's son.

No, there were only six of us in total; we just went through a weekend and half of them are already dead?

Wait, no, it's more than half. If it weren't for me, this unexpected variable, the original Cyril would have died tonight as well.