He stood there dumbly, watching dust rise from the road in the distance.
A monster he had just seen was speeding toward them from ahead, followed by dozens—perhaps hundreds—of other monsters.
Looking closely, the one in front was holding a stack of papers, while those chasing her were actually trying to snatch the papers from her hands.
What kind of papers could make these Transcendent monsters fight so desperately to seize them?
Galahad shuddered. They were probably covered in twisted, blasphemous words.
No, that was not important. What mattered was—why were there so many Transcendent beings here?
How many had there been just now? A hundred? At least several dozen, surely?
How many Transcendents were there in the entire Holy See? Even if there were more than what he saw before him, there could not be that many more.
Could so many Transcendent beings truly gather on this remote island?
Had he gone mad, or had the world gone mad?
Galahad felt as though hallucinations were forming before his eyes, while inexplicable whispers arose beside his ears, a maddening cacophony.
This was bad. His cognition was beginning to drift, and he was slowly falling into the Sea of Unconsciousness.
Calm down, calm down. He had to stay calm. Do not look at those monsters—look at normal things instead.
Galahad tried his best to steady himself as he looked around. Sparse pedestrians and enormous distant tentacles coexisted in his view. His situation was troublesome, but not yet terribly dangerous. As long as he gradually stabilized his cognition, everything would be fine.
Hallucinations were easy enough to identify. Those inexplicable tentacles in the distance were an excellent reference point. How could something so bizarre possibly exist on the island?
He kept telling himself that they were hallucinations, trying to calm down, yet