Sacrificing the Few for the Good of the Many

Once Cyril finished his calm narration, Carlson asked, "Do you know why she attacked you?"

Cyril shook his head: "I don't know. I don't even know who she is."

Carlson frowned and pondered for a moment. He didn't say he agreed with his statement, but he didn't refute it either, instead continuing to ask:

"What does she look like? Can you describe her in detail?"

"I can." Cyril nodded slightly. After a pause, he suggested:

"Do you have paper and a pen? I can draw her. My drawing skills are actually quite good."

"Wait for me."

Carlson turned and left the room, returning shortly with a half-used pencil and a blank register that appeared to be used by doctors in the hospital.

"There's no plain paper, so just use this for now."

Cyril nodded gently and raised his hand, but the movement tugged at the wound on his shoulder, causing him to wince and pull back.

"Hiss, my right hand can't move much. You hold the notebook for me, and I'll draw with my left."

A flash of embarrassment crossed Carlson's face; he had completely forgotten that one of Cyril's injuries was on his shoulder.

He gave a dry laugh and quickly changed the subject: "You have the skill to draw with your left hand?"

"I haven't tried, but it should be fine," Cyril replied uncertainly.

As they spoke, he took the pencil in his left hand and began sketching lines onto the blank register.

His drawing skills came from the power and knowledge he absorbed after destroying the frame that contained the World in the Painting. Beyond being able to create paintings with extraordinary power, he had gained a vast amount of artistic knowledge and technique, allowing him to go from a novice to a master of painting in a single day.

If he wanted to, and provided he had the right materials, he could also create a painting containing a World in the Painting, though it could not exist for long unless he periodically poured power into it.

If he were in that previous state of an "Angel experience card," he would likely be able to create a permanent World in the Painting. After all, the essence of the World in the Painting was the interaction between reality and dimensions, and an Angel of the Door pathway had already touched upon the power of dimensions.

Beyond the World in the Painting, he could also draw other works with extraordinary power:

For instance, making a scroll manifest a certain truth of the world to exert a specific influence on its surroundings, or making false content become a real, existing thing that could walk out of the canvas or paper and wander within a certain range. All such works had a time limit.

Perhaps because this power was something he had intercepted from the World in the Painting, he always felt it was incomplete.

After letting his thoughts wander for a moment, the portrait of Zoila Hernandez was already depicted on the blank register before him.

He then handed the half-pencil to Carlson and said, "It's done. Although I don't think this portrait is of any use; I've seen her disguise, and it was exactly the same as Professor Fells."

Carlson took back the register, glanced at it, and nodded with satisfaction: "Well drawn. It's on par with the level of the professional artists on our team."

"We can't stop making preparations in this regard just because she is good at disguising. Perhaps it will come in handy at some point?"

"Alright, you rest for now. I need to go back and report the information from your side."

"By the way, don't worry about your safety. We have arranged for people to protect you in the shadows."

"Mm, thank you." Cyril nodded "gratefully" to the other party.

After Carlson left, Beth brought Little Thomas back to the ward and chatted with him in fits and starts.

It was mostly Beth doing the talking, with Little Thomas occasionally chiming in. Cyril lay on the hospital bed, smiling and chiming in as well. He could tell that Beth was trying hard to liven up the atmosphere so he could relax, but as someone who always maintained a serious demeanor, she really wasn't suited for this.

Fortunately, just as he was about to lose his smile, Owen, who had gone to pack food for him, returned.

Looking at the food being fed to him, he protested helplessly: "I really can eat by myself. Although my right hand is inconvenient, my left hand is fine."

Beth refused decisively: "No. You have wounds on your body, and the doctor said you can't sit up yet. Lie down properly; I'll feed you."

"Or you can let Little Thomas feed you. You choose one."

Cyril sighed: "Forget it then."

I don't want to eat through my nostrils.

After a pause, he looked at Owen, who was watching the show from the side: "Don't you need to go back to school for class?"

Owen chuckled: "Thanks to you, the entire History Department at Backlund University is on break today."

Cyril: ...

Sacrificing the few for the benefit of the many, are we...

He muttered to himself, then looked down at the wounds on his body: "I don't think I'll need to go back to school before graduation. After all, I'm a severely injured person. Maybe the school will even issue me a diploma directly to comfort me."

Owen: "I don't think so."

"The school should give you a chance to take a make-up exam. Otherwise, if two people skip class but only one has to take an exam, I won't feel balanced."

Cyril smiled lightly: "You can shoot yourself. There happens to be an empty hospital bed right next to me."

Owen: ...

Watching Owen's speechless expression, Cyril felt his mood suddenly improve... Sure enough, smiles don't disappear; they just transfer.

He paused, reined in the smile at the corner of his mouth, and changed the subject:

"Go to the Harvest Cathedral on Daffodil Street for me and find Father Utravsky. He is skilled at concocting potions. I think he's more reliable than the hospital."

"I don't want to be stuck lying in this hospital bed for the next while."

Owen hadn't answered yet, but Beth's expression suddenly turned serious: "Are you planning to convert to the Mother Earth?"

Cyril shook his head immediately: "Of course not, it's just that I happened to get to know that priest due to some accidents before."

"The clergy of the Mother Earth church all possess decent pharmacological knowledge, and that priest is a Blessed, so perhaps I can buy some special medicinal drugs for healing from him."

"I really don't understand how a regular student from Backlund University like you managed to get involved with a priest from the Harvest Cathedral."

Beth shook her head lightly, but she did not continue the topic.

Afterward, the two chatted for a few more moments, and Cyril drifted off to sleep without realizing it.

In his dream, he saw a deep, vast, and enormous wave rushing toward him, dragging him into the depths of the sea.

Before he could even struggle, his surroundings suddenly became bright, and he found that he had appeared, he knew not when, inside a magnificent and enormous ancient cathedral lined with pillars of pitch-black stone.

In front of the cathedral, before a massive cross surrounded by countless bones, Adam, dressed in a very simple white robe, was looking at him with a smile.

Hesitating on the spot for half a second, Cyril stepped forward and nodded naturally to the other party, asking:

"Good afternoon, Mr. Adam."

Adam responded gently: "Good afternoon, Mr. Cyril."

Understanding why Adam was meeting him at this time, Cyril had no intention of beating around the bush and said immediately:

"The information I saw was not comprehensive; that was only a part of His characteristics. Perhaps only after I become an Astrologer will I be able to see more through the connection between Him and me."

"His specific honorific name should be: Lord of Dimensions, the Eye that overlooks the mortal world, the source of all fantasies, the Creator of the World in the Painting."

"The part of the characteristics I saw at that time was related to eyes, or rather, related to observation."

"He can see everything in the world from above the dimensions, and because of the nature of dimensions, His observation causes direct and critical changes to the subsequent development and final outcome of the observed object. This is somewhat similar to how we observe the quantum realm; well, you should understand this better than I do."

"At the moment I made eye contact with Him, this sentence popped into my mind: When I see, the flowers bloom brilliantly; when I do not see, the flowers and the heart fall into silence together."

"This corresponds to the line 'the Eye that overlooks the mortal world' in His honorific name."

"The fact that I was able to see these things just at the right time must have been driven by the script written by the Author, right?"

After speaking, he looked at Adam with burning eyes, waiting for the other party's response.

Adam just smiled gently: "I am not a researcher in the field of physics."

"Furthermore, while you saw Him, He also saw you. The more you peek at Him, the more He understands you."

"After becoming an Astrologer, it is best that you do not make eye contact with Him again. Even with the barrier left behind by the Primordial, it is not that safe."

...So that is why you arranged this scene in the script at this time? To obtain the most effective information at the minimum cost?

Cyril looked straight at Him, not voicing the words in his heart.