Eye of Secret Seer and the Unexpected

After two seconds of silence, Cyril, who seemed to be struggling to digest this unfortunate news, asked in a deep voice:

"May I ask, who are the ones still alive?"

Carlson looked at him and said in a hollow tone, "You, Welch Stams, and Owen Garcia."

"One club president and two vice presidents. I have to say, this is quite a coincidence."

Max Livermore, standing to the side, glanced at his assistant, who wisely shut his mouth.

Cyril lowered his head, making it impossible to see the expression on his face.

He didn't care about the suspicious and scrutinizing language used by the "inspector's" assistant; he knew very well that this seemingly casual conversation was actually the two of them working together to interrogate him.

He controlled the expression on his face as he looked up at Max Livermore. In truth, he didn't really need to control it much; although he had gained most of the original Cyril's memories, he really didn't know about this matter. Otherwise, he wouldn't have held the ritual himself and caused his own death.

Taking a deep breath, he tried to make his tone sound sorrowful while hiding a trace of relief:

"I might know about that evil ritual. It came from Welch Stams's sharing. It is said to help the person presiding over the ritual recognize their spiritual essence, break free from the shackles of the flesh, achieve the sublimation of life, and even obtain extraordinary power."

Max asked with a serious gaze, "According to whom?"

"Welch," Cyril replied without concealment, nor was there any need to hide it.

He paused and added, "I was delayed by some coursework, so I didn't have time to collect materials over the weekend. I found an excuse to take a day off, planning to collect the materials during the day and hold the ritual tonight."

"As it turned out, I really wasn't feeling well today, so it got delayed."

As he spoke, he reached out and tapped his chest three times, tracing the shape of the Triangular Sacred Emblem, and muttered:

"Steam above, it must be that my piety has received the protection of the God."

Across from him, Max and Carlson had different expressions—one serious, one strange—but both very earnestly reached out and tapped their chests three times, performing the standard prayer gesture of the Church of Steam:

"Steam above." x2

"The Lord will protect every believer who piously believes in Him."

After the brief digression, Max continued his questioning: "Owen Garcia didn't hold that evil ritual either. Do you know why?"

Cyril recalled for a moment and said, "Ever since his parents passed away one after another, he began to drift away from the club. Perhaps this is just the growing pains of a young man."

"Although Welch shared the ritual with him this time, I could tell he was very disdainful of this stuff. It's normal for him not to hold the ritual; after all, similar things have happened many times, but they have never succeeded."

Max nodded slightly and asked very politely, "Do you mind if we go upstairs and take a look?"

"Of course."

Cyril nodded gently, gestured for them to proceed, and then led the two upstairs to check every room.

Seeing that the two men's expressions remained unchanged, Cyril breathed a sigh of relief in his heart, while simultaneously thanking Adam. He finally understood why this big shot had helped him restore the room to its original state after leaving.

Oh, wait, Adam might not have left. A Spectator has psychological invisibility; perhaps He was quietly watching this scene from the sofa.

Thinking of this, Cyril felt a chill run down his spine, making his whole body feel uncomfortable.

Returning to the living room on the first floor, Max continued the question he hadn't finished earlier: "What do you know about Welch Stams?"

"Welch?" Cyril carefully recalled the memories in his mind, pondering for a long while before answering:

"The son of a very wealthy and generous tycoon, and also a fanatical occult enthusiast. The World Truth Society was founded at his initiative."

"Right, about three months ago, at a gathering, he told me he had found the true mystery, but it seemed to fizzle out later. Every time I asked him, he would just sigh."

Max nodded slightly without comment: "Good, I understand. If you recall any important details later, you can come here to contact us."

As he spoke, he handed Cyril a business card the size of a playing card. On it was a row of very conspicuous gold-stamped Loen characters: House of Celebration Machinery Shop.

Cyril reached out to take the card and nodded gently: "I understand."

As he was seeing Max and Carlson to the door, Max suddenly turned around and asked, seemingly casually but with a hint of seriousness:

"As far as I know, the coursework for the History Department at Backlund University is not heavy, especially since you are nearing graduation. So, what course delayed your time?"

The expression on Cyril's face froze. After a long while, he sighed and said:

"You should have already investigated me. I have a younger brother, Haven Gray. We are twins. Although we aren't exactly identical, as long as we act, it's hard for outsiders to tell who is who."

"We would occasionally let the other person play ourselves in class when we wanted to skip. Most of the teachers and students at school wouldn't notice. Earlier, I was helping him with an experiment left by a Physics professor."

"You can do physics experiments?"

Carlson, standing to the side, looked at him with a face full of surprise, his eyes showing a bit of recognition and even a trace of admiration.

As an Archaeologist of the Savant pathway at Sequence 8, even with the blessing of Beyonder characteristics, he found knowledge like physics and chemistry to be a headache, having caused explosions in the laboratory more than once.

Therefore, in his eyes, anyone who could become an expert in this field without relying on potions was a true genius.

Cyril shrugged and said casually, "Of course not, but I can at least handle the most basic experimental equipment to fool people. I have attended a few classes, after all."

He paused and continued the previous topic: "At the time, Mr. Horamick Haydn, an honorary professor in the Physics Department at Backlund University, came to inspect the laboratory. He himself was the proposer and nominal head of that experimental project."

"He is also one of the few people who can distinguish between me and Haven under my deliberate disguise, so he can prove the truth of what I just said."

"However, officers, can this matter not be spread? Haven and I still want to graduate from Backlund University smoothly."

Max looked at him deeply, his eyes filled with a helplessness that wanted to retort but didn't know where to start:

"I will seek verification from the Great Mas... Mr. Horamick regarding this matter, but since Mr. Horamick did not expose you, there is no need for us to do anything unnecessary."

"Thank you for your cooperation. I hope you will not see us again."

Having said that, he led his assistant Carlson out the door without the slightest hesitation. Under Cyril's gaze, the two stepped onto a carriage parked at the intersection of the street ahead.

An old man sat on the carriage acting as the driver. In Cyril's field of vision, this old man also possessed spirituality far exceeding that of an ordinary person, though it was slightly inferior to that of Max and Carlson; he was likely a Sequence 9.

Seemingly sensing his gaze, the old man sitting on the carriage's front step suddenly turned his head to look over, and their gazes intertwined across the distance.

The next second, the old man withdrew his gaze in a very hurried, or even rather disheveled, manner.

"Hmm? His eyes... was that a sense of prying just now?"

"He seems to have seen something on me. Damn it, I was careless. I forgot to guard against the Eye of Secret Seer of a Mystery Pryer. How could a formal Heart of Mechanics squad not be equipped with a Mystery Pryer?"

"Could I end up becoming the prime suspect in this case, or even a wanted criminal by the Church of the God of Steam and Machinery, just like that?"

While Cyril was muttering to himself and falling into a state of unease, on the carriage on the other side of the road, Max suddenly looked at the old man driving and asked with a worried tone:

"House, what is wrong?"

The old man called House had a stiff body for a moment before he slowly shook his head: "It's nothing, just an old habit of a Mystery Pryer. I always inadvertently see things I shouldn't, which brings about unexpected and unavoidable harm."

As he spoke, he wiped the blood and tears streaming down his face with one hand, while his other hand reached into his pocket to pull out a bottle of pale green potion, which he gulped down.

In a place where the two behind him could not see, the bloodshot veins in House's exceptionally clear, pale blue eyes faded at a speed visible to the naked eye, replaced by an unconcealable fanaticism.

He had just seen the truth of the world, seen true greatness; that was the goal he needed to pursue and believe in with his entire life and everything he possessed.

That was the true god, not a petty false god like the God of Steam and Machinery.