Fabrication

Because the gunshot wound on his body hadn't been treated, leading to excessive blood loss, Cyril, who was hovering on the verge of fainting, suddenly heard footsteps approaching him.

He controlled his body and expression, subconsciously tensing up as he turned his head, but due to the dizziness caused by the blood loss, it took several dazed seconds for him to clearly see the person who had arrived.

It was an elderly man who looked very gentle and kind, dressed in a white priest's robe and wearing a cleric's soft cap, with a steam-powered backpack on his back that looked severely out of place with the rest of his attire.

On the chest of that white priest's robe was a Triangular Sacred Emblem embroidered with gold thread, filled with symbols of steam, gears, and levers.

After seeing the man's appearance clearly, a sense of relaxation surfaced on his face, and his eyes grew smaller and smaller, looking as if he would faint at any moment.

Before he truly lost consciousness, he saw the old man walk up to him, squat down, and gently place his right hand on the wound on his shoulder, soothing him with a kind and gentle voice:

"Child, relax, you will be fine."

Cyril parted his lips slightly, and before he could make a sound, he drifted into unconsciousness.

He really couldn't hold on any longer; after being injured, he had been chased for a while, and after resolving the problem, he hadn't treated his own wounds to avoid suspicion. Now, he felt as if all the blood in his body had nearly drained away.

If he hadn't fainted yet, the thing he would most want to say right now would be: Don't just comfort me, give me some healing!

When he woke up again, Cyril found himself lying in a hospital bed, with several familiar figures in the ward.

Beth was holding Little Thomas by the bedside with red-rimmed eyes, Owen was standing by the window holding a crystal pendant while lost in thought, and Carlson, a member of the Heart of Mechanics whom he had met once, was guarding the door.

He moved his body, then lay back down with a grimace.

"Hiss~"

"Why do I feel like my wounds are even worse?"

The movement he made instantly drew the attention of everyone in the room, and suddenly, they all crowded around.

"Uncle is awake, Uncle is awake!"

Little Thomas tugged at Beth's hand, and the latter subconsciously tightened her grip on the boy, looking very nervous. It was the first time Cyril had heard his mature sister speak in such a choked-up tone:

"Cyril, you're finally awake."

"Don't move yet, the doctor just stitched up your wounds. It will hurt a bit, but it will be better in a couple of days."

"Is there any part of you that feels uncomfortable?"

"Are you thirsty? I'll feed you some water."

As she spoke, she placed Little Thomas at her feet and reached out to grab the water glass on the cabinet nearby.

She tested the water temperature herself first, then carefully brought the glass to Cyril's lips.

Although he wasn't very thirsty, Cyril obediently took a sip. The temperature was just right; it seemed it had been kept ready for him all along.

After drinking the water, he smiled at Beth: "Don't worry, I'm fine."

Beth opened her mouth, wanting to retort, but the words that came out turned into compliance and comfort:

"Yes, you're fine. We'll be able to go home soon."

Carlson, who had been guarding the door, walked up at this moment. He first looked at Cyril with a complex gaze, then turned his head to look at Beth:

"Ma'am, may I have a private word with Mr. Cyril? For the sake of the investigation, this is a necessary procedure."

Beth frowned with dissatisfaction: "Can't you wait until he recovers a bit more?"

Cyril smiled to comfort his sister, who was slightly losing her composure: "It's fine, it's just a few words. I'm not that fragile."

He then looked at Owen: "I should be able to eat now, right? Could I trouble you to pack some food for me? I feel a bit hungry."

Owen nodded gently: "Alright, would you like something to drink?"

Before Cyril could speak, Beth hurriedly interjected: "He can't have stimulating food or alcohol right now. Buy him some light fish and a salad, and maybe some jam."

"Understood." Owen nodded slightly and looked at Cyril with sympathy. He knew the other man's dietary habits well enough to know that these were all foods he wouldn't even touch under normal circumstances.

After everyone else in the room had left, Carlson sat down on the chair by the bed without ceremony, his light blue eyes scanning Cyril repeatedly.

A moment later, he suddenly chuckled: "You must have witnessed extraordinary power, right?"

"There were strong traces of extraordinary power residue in that office, and you are the only survivor at the scene."

Cyril gave a bitter smile and didn't refute the man's words, instead saying: "I thought you would ask me what happened at that time first."

Carlson sat on the chair and nodded slightly: "Normally, that would be the case, but given your condition, I thought I should offer some comfort first."

"Besides, telling you a bit about the extraordinary realm can also help you avoid unnecessary omissions when describing the situation."

Cyril nodded slightly, acknowledging the man's point, and then asked: "Can you tell me the current situation at the school?"

Carlson looked at Cyril with an expression that suggested he was quite lucky: "Archbishop Horamick arrived just in time to scare off the Beyonder who was causing destruction there, and he promptly sent you to the hospital."

"In this incident, one professor died, along with one student, and you were shot and seriously injured."

Cyril asked curiously: "Who was the student that died?"

Carlson didn't answer, but instead asked: "Why didn't you ask who the professor that died was?"

Cyril pursed his lips with a bitter expression: "Old Fells died right in front of me. The flesh on his body fell off piece by piece, like a building that had lost its load-bearing pillars, and soon there was nothing left but a blood-stained skeleton."

Following his description, a sanity-draining image inexplicably appeared in Carlson's mind, and his body shivered:

"How do you remember it so clearly?"

Cyril looked at the other man, sighing with a helpless expression: "Unless you pass out on the spot, it's hard not to have a vivid memory of a scene like that, right?"

Carlson shook his head: "No, what I mean is, why are you able to recount such a scene so calmly?"

The expression on Cyril's face stiffened, looking somewhat helpless.

A Trickmaster really couldn't compare to a Magician, who had Clown as a prerequisite sequence, when it came to performance.

Sighing inwardly, he shook his head slightly: "I suppose I'm just naturally calm, and as an excellent occult enthusiast, isn't staying composed a basic requirement?"

Carlson really wanted to say it wasn't, but facing Cyril's inexplicably earnest gaze, he nodded subconsciously.

With a strange look on his face, he immediately changed the subject: "It seems you don't need my condolences, so let's get straight to the point."

"Recount your encounter at Backlund University today from beginning to end, and don't leave out any details."

"Mm." Cyril nodded gently, and after a brief moment of recollection, he began to narrate his experience today, trimming away the unnecessary parts:

"I arrived at the university in the afternoon. As soon as I got to the classroom, I heard a classmate say that Professor Fells was looking for me, so I went straight to Professor Fells' office."

"The afternoon?" Carlson looked at Cyril with suspicion.

The latter shrugged his shoulders, looking slightly embarrassed: "I skipped class."

"That sounds like something you would do." Carlson sighed inexplicably, then nodded at him: "Continue."

Cyril lowered his eyes; it was clear the Heart of Mechanics had already investigated him beforehand. He recalled whether he had revealed any flaws in his daily life before continuing with the previous topic:

"At the time, only Professor Fells was in the office. He said he had prepared a gift for me. I was a bit surprised and tried to refuse, as I felt that given my relationship with the professor, it hadn't reached the point where he would suddenly give me a gift."

"Professor Fells didn't care about my refusal; he brought the gift right in front of me. It was a painting."

"The moment I saw that painting, I was sucked into the world inside it. Then, Professor Fells appeared in the painting as well, but he quickly turned into a woman and started hunting me down. The injuries on my body were sustained at that time."

"I was about to die under that woman's gun when the painting suddenly shattered. I fell out and returned to the office, just in time to see the scene where Professor Fells turned into a skeleton."

"I wanted to run, but I was suddenly shrouded in a shadow. I couldn't see anything and couldn't hear anything, right up until Professor Horamick appeared. After that, I passed out."