He had no way of guaranteeing whether, in the face of powerful strength, he would lose his humanity and degenerate into an evil god recorded in universal histories.
Early the next morning, Joey finished washing up.
He rarely put on his Sheriff's uniform-this was the first time wearing it since his leave.
Passing by Naomi's doorstep, he suddenly paused, staring at that paint-peeling wooden door, and stood there just like that, quietly.
As if the next second, Naomi would pull open the door with a smile and offer a greeting, "Good morning, Mr. Keliwei."
In Senegal without a sun, darkness was an inescapable undertone; the value of life appeared utterly insignificant here.
No one would notice that a passionate landlady had once lived here; there was no funeral, no greeting, as if this person had never existed at all.
Perhaps only at some aristocratic gathering would someone casually mention that there used to be a curly-haired, voluptuous lady.
He gently placed his hand on his left chest, bowed slightly, reined in his complex emotions, and took a step downstairs.
The street was an absolute mess. Just a few miles away from the Imperial Dynasty, there were arson, robbery, and murder. On the ground, there were even many patches of un-dried red traces.
The events that befell Naomi were spreading in the form of a plague.
Joey gripped his Revolver tightly, his gaze scanning his surroundings vigilantly. As long as anyone made a close move, he would raise his gun for a warning without the slightest hesitation.
An outburst in suppression, madness in paranoia.
The Color Out of Space was bit by bit, in an eroding manner, stirring up the darkest sides deep within human nature.
At this moment, the uniform on his body appeared so glaring.
He could even see a Sheriff dressed just like him stepping on the back of a woman, his face distorted, shouting into the mouth: "Damn woman, ordering me around? I'm a man, your master, you better kneel down and lick my toes for me!"
Quite a coincidence-he knew this person, whose image all along had been that of a good family man who cherished his wife.
There was something even more exaggerated: a dog holding a leash in its mouth, with the other end of the rope tied to a man. The roles of the two were swapped, with the dog becoming the master while the man, covered in injuries, crawled forward slowly on his hands and knees.
A cluster of colorful mist fell onto Joey's head, and immediately, a comforting sensation spread throughout his entire body.
The mist enveloped Joey's body, and after spinning around in a circle, seeming unable to find a breakthrough point, it swayed towards somewhere else, searching for the next target.
"Compared to the gibberish of the Endless Sea, you're far from enough," he sneered, watching the gradually drifting mist.
With black eyes, he gazed into the distance. The color of the Great Fog had grown a bit denser; according to Helena's description, once the colorful hues of the fog thickened to a certain node, It would begin harvesting.
"Old man, tell me, what is the meaning of living?"
In the past, his dreams were very small, so small that they only required three meals a day.
Back then, Joey believed that as long as he could live a stable life with the old man, it was better than everything else.
Standing in the sunlight, facing the vast sea-in the sunless Senegal, it once made him want to seek death at one point.
Mutated food that made him sick to his stomach, day-in-day-out work without seeing the light of day, and the constant need for vigilance out of fear of being snatched away one day to serve as a blood bank.
It was Tony Crevi who pulled him out of that abyss.
Until now, those words Tony said before dying still seemed to echo by his ear: Don't let hatred blind your eyes; don't take revenge.
He was no saint and could not manage such selflessness.
Joey considered himself nothing more than a petty, vengeful man, and for this, he would spare no cost to find Wayne, and not even Katrin Winter did he want to let go.
Looking at the fog shrouding the top of his head, it was as if everything had been covered with a layer of barrier.
Confusion, pain, entanglement, and chaotic emotions flooded his mind in an instant.
He thought of Tony Crevi who didn't even have a grave, thought of Captain Wade Wisker who went berserk in the Earl's mansion, and all sorts of people flashed through his mind.
In the Forsaken Land of the Gods, dead corpses could only be cremated, otherwise, the mutated soil would turn the deceased into monsters.
Killing Wayne, so what? The old man couldn't come back to life.
Continuing to live in a place filled with dark undertones, waiting for a day when his blood would mutate and then everything would be burned away by a fire.
What meaning could such a life have?
He had already tried his utmost to make himself adapt to this world, as if fate loved to toy with people.
Just when he was prepared to settle down into a stable life, Tony died.
When he was prepared to play the role of a proper Sheriff, a royal coup broke out, and the country was split into two.
Having finally found a backer, he turned around and got himself involved with the Necromancer Sect.
Looking at the Sheriff's Office close at hand, Joey let out a deep breath.
Not long ago, he had still walked in here with a look of anticipation and awe.
Yet in a flash, this place was deserted. He tore off the seal above, stepped forward, and pushed open that door.
On the wall, Captain Wade Wisker's photo hung there. He wore the Sheriff's special uniform with a solemn expression; at that time, he did not yet have a full face of sideburns.
A passage was written beneath the photo:
"Even if we dwell in darkness, our hearts must yearn toward the light."
A gust of wind poured in from the window, kicking up a ground full of dust.
Clearly, this place had only been sealed for a few days, yet it felt as if it had been sealed away for a long time. The silent, empty atmosphere made Joey's mood heavy.
Because of Wade Wisker's disappearance, this Sheriff's Office was completely sealed off.
Walking deeper for a distance, there was an iron door. Joey pushed it open gently and instantly wore a look of astonishment.
This room was the armory, filled with special firearms and bullets. Strangely enough, the weapons had not been confiscated by the higher-ups.
Joey's gaze paused for a split second.
"Has the situation already become this severe?" While speaking, he began stuffing ammunition into his bosom.
The distribution of ammunition at the Sheriff's Office required applying to the Church every week, so there was no such thing as having a large stock.
Regarding the control of resources, Emperor Eng had always been very attentive.
It was also because of this that an uncrossable chasm between commoners and nobles was created.
The strong grew stronger while the weak grew weaker, able only to be continuously exploited and oppressed.
"A country like this perhaps shouldn't exist in the first place, but rather perish along with the sun."
In his past life, as a good citizen of the new century, slave-owning nobles of the old era and feudal society could only be seen through film and television dramas; situated in peace, it was hard to empathize.
Just like now, he couldn't understand why such a deformed social system had formed in Senegal.
If the nobles didn't monopolize resources, would more newborns emerge, strengthening the tribe's power and jointly pioneering new territories instead of shrinking away in a corner?
"Perhaps a new regime can bring a different Senegal."
Joey took a few boxes of ammunition and then walked toward the basement, which was the storage room for Supernatural Artifacts.
Although he guessed there would be no harvest, upon seeing the empty shelves, he still inevitably felt a trace of disappointment.
In the deep darkness, that door stood quietly, as if it were the fulcrum of this world, propping up the intersection of the void and reality. It was both a material entity and a non-material existence, and a unique magic overflowed from within this door, causing the space around it to warp slightly.
The eye on the door snapped open after Joey appeared.
The material of the door was peculiar, blending steel and bronze, and seemed to also mingle some unknown element. They fused with one another, forming an indescribable beauty.
Complex totoms were carved on the surface, and every detail was filled with the vicissitudes of history and ancient power.
The aura made one's heart pound with fear. It carried a sense of deep stillness and profound antiquity, resembling the ruins of an ancient civilization or the roar of a Sealed Artifact. It was low and powerful, echoing like ancient bells and arousing ripples in time.
The aura emanating from the door carried the formidable power of a Sealed Artifact, yet it was restricted within the frame of the door, causing this power to be constrained and suppressed.
Approaching this door, one would feel a deep chill, like the cold wind of a winter night or the shadow of a dark night.
This chill seemed capable of piercing through one's clothing, freezing one's skin, and making one's heartbeat slow and heavy. However, this was not a feeling of fear or shrinking back, but rather a deep sense of reverence and respect.
This was the replica of 0-09. It was both a key that could open the gateway to an unknown world, and a barrier that could protect the world from the invasion of unknown forces.
What should have been the position of the door knocker was replaced by two eyeballs.
It was staring at Joey with big eyeballs. Although it didn't speak, the joy mixed within could be clearly felt.
Joey knew that although this was only a replica, because of the special nature of 0-09, this door possessed a trace of its divinity.
The door panels opened, pitch-black inside, resembling an endless abyss.
Soon, a line of text emerged within the open door panels.
It was as if an invisible hand were writing out of thin air.
"Very glad to see you again."
"You seem to know me?" Joey looked at this line of text and asked in surprise.
He was testing whether 0-09 possessed interoperability.
"We just met yesterday, didn't we?"
Sure enough, the authority of the Gate of All Doors allowed it to possess interoperability, just like having countless avatars.
Joey thought for a moment and directly asked pointedly:
"What are you planning to do in Senegal?"
0-09 remained silent for quite a while before a line of text surfaced again:
"It's not that I want to do anything, nor can I do anything."
Joey had a sudden realization; indeed, it was he who had overthought it.
A Sealed Artifact was, when all was said and done, merely a tool, and its purpose depended on the user.
He glanced up, weighed his phrasing, and then continued asking:
"Perhaps I should ask, what is your ability?"
Traveler of the starry skies?
Or the Guardian of life and death?
As the door panels of 0-09 closed once more, Joey walked out of the basement storage room.
He did not obtain a definitive answer, but there was one point Joey could be certain of: someone had found the true body of 0-09 and attempted to use it to achieve a certain goal.
Sealed Artifacts followed their own law of conservation, much like 0-013's "ask and you shall answer."
The law of conservation for 0-09 was that it required the nourishment of living human blood, which was also the prerequisite condition for it to unleash its ability.
Joey was silent for a moment, then abruptly let out a breath of stale air.
How did that saying go?
"When the boat reaches the bridgehead, it will naturally straighten out."
Near noon, Joey was preparing lunch.
No matter how chaotic the outside world was, all of this seemed to have nothing to do with him.
To reiterate, no matter who took power, they wouldn't lay a hand on commoners.
The only thing he could do now was to ensure the safety of his own little life before the coup subsided.
Milk, bread, and a bowl of dry-mixed noodles.
Looking at these items, he inevitably thought of Naomi again.
Perhaps the Naomi constructed by Maimaiti was the real her-dare to love and hate, passionate like fire.
That paranoid and crazy Naomi was merely a pitiful person being fooled.
The Color Out of Space was like a manipulator who loved to toy with human nature.
It wantonly altered the surroundings, turning everything into the shape it desired.
As for the life or death of the manipulated, it wouldn't care at all.
He raised his head to look out the window, where the colors of the thick fog had grown a bit more vivid.
At this moment, a knock suddenly sounded on the door:
"Clive, are you in?"
"Huh?" Joey stood up, his face full of surprise. At a time like this, would someone actually come looking for him?
Pulling the door open, standing outside was a straight-backed soldier whose armor indicated his identity: a Guardian Knight from the Elder Council.
Unlike the Knights Templar, they did not meddle in the security of the Imperial City; the objects they served were solely the Elder Council.
"Come with me."
Beneath the Guardian Knight's helmet, his resolute face bore no expression, and his voice was low, resembling rumbling thunder.
Joey's heart tightened all at once.
People from the Elder Council-what would a Guardian Knight want with me?
Although it wasn't his first time coming to the forbidden area of the Imperial City, Joey had to put on the appearance of a newcomer on the surface.
There was no help for it; according to convention, the memory of coming here last time to see that big figure should have been in an erased state by now.
All sorts of guesses indicated that the old fellow he saw last time was the head of the Elder Council, the demigod Ramses. He was a demigod of the Giant Pathway and possessed unrivaled power in Senegal.
The Guardian Knight led Joey in front of a tall tower, then said coldly, "Go in."
With a sinking heart, he pushed open that door.
What came into view were countless transparent crystal balls, resembling large and small eyeballs.
Against the backdrop of the gas lamp was a spirited old man. His waist and back were hunched, exuding an aura of decay and ruin.
Yet his eyes were filled with the light of wisdom; those were the eyes of an old man who had been through many battles, having experienced trials and hardships and witnessed all kinds of human fickleness.
A full head of white hair contrasted sharply with his black robe.
The black robe was embroidered with complex silver runes, and the collar portion of the robe was pinned with an ancient badge carved with his faith and totem.
His wrinkled skin was filled with the vicissitudes of history.
He walked step by step toward Joey. Although his pace was slow, it carried a powerful aura that made one unable to look him in the eye.
He always appeared in the image of a wise man-calm and rational, making it impossible for anyone to perceive his true emotions.
Although his voice was low, it was filled with majesty and power.
"Joey Crevi, do you still remember me?"