Although the voices coming from the telegraph office were nothing unusual, just slightly intermittent and lacking obvious intonation, which wouldn't normally evoke fear, a surge of overwhelming terror suddenly welled up inside Verdue.
It was as if a bullet with a trail of flame had entered an armory and accurately hit a barrel of easily ignited gunpowder, instantly detonating the fear that Verdue had accumulated and forcibly suppressed.
The terror that swept over every corner of his body was like a hand that gripped Verdue's heart, whitened his brain, and made him turn around abruptly and frantically flee towards the dilapidated dock where the pirate ship was located.
During this process, Verdue completely forgot to think, unaware that he was wearing a classical robe that could " Teleportation," and simply stumbled and fell through the ruins on his own two feet, sometimes tripping over debris and falling heavily, and sometimes having his face turn purple from being constricted by the clothing, forcing him to stop and gasp for breath.
However, whenever things calmed down a little, Verdue would get up and continue running wildly, as if he had lost his mind and was driven only by pure instinct.
Without his support, the wooden door lost its balance, slid along the collapsed and broken wall for a short distance, and then fell with a thud onto the brick-covered ground.
The grayish-white fog and the houses faintly visible within it vanished.
Five or six minutes later, Verdue ran back to the dock under the dark clouds of the downpour.
His eyes were fixed on him, filled with panic and disorientation, completely unaware that a figure stood on the deck of the pirate ship, silently watching him.
This is the young man with a stern face, wearing a top silk hat, a long black trench coat, and a cold expression.
Without a second thought, Verdue immediately used the gangway to return to the pirate ship, rushed into his cabin, ran up to the second floor, and into his own room.
Bang!
He slammed the door shut, shrank into the narrow bed, wrapped himself tightly in the blanket, and shivered.
When another rib broke, excruciating pain assaulted his mind, and Verdue finally began to recover. He found his limbs weak, his body burning, and each breath like thunder.
He struggled and tried, finally managing to take off the classical robe, and collapsed back onto the bed, feeling dizzy, nauseous, and unable to breathe.
Outside the cabin, the stern-faced man suddenly raised his hand, took a human skin glove out of thin air, and put it on his left palm.
Suddenly, the man vanished into thin air and reappeared in a corner of the ruins, next to the ordinary wooden door.
He then bent down, pulled up the wooden door, and placed it back in front of a wall that was mostly broken.
Immediately afterwards, the man in the black trench coat imitated Verdue's action, reached out and grasped the handle, and turned it downwards.
Then, he pushed the wooden door forward, causing it to lean back against the wall.
Almost simultaneously, he saw a grayish-white mist, and through the mist, he could vaguely see streets and houses.
Among the buildings, the most prominent and clearest is the Bansy Harbor Telegraph Office; the others are more or less blurry.
At that moment, the calm voice from inside the telegraph office spoke through the door:
"Who are you?"
"I am, Gehrman, Sparrow," the young man in the top silk hat replied in the same halting voice.
Inside the Bansy Harbor Telegraph Office, a sudden silence fell, as if someone were silently walking towards the door.
Just then, Gehrman Sparrow turned his head to look in the other direction.
From the depths of that shadowy long street, a figure approached. He wore a straw hat, had a towel around his neck, and was bending over, pulling something.
As the figure drew closer, the outlines of the objects behind him gradually came into view.
It was a small black car with two wheels and a roof to shield it from the Sun and rain.
A lady wearing a fitted long dress and carrying a round fan painted with flowers and birds sat in the cart.
She and the cart puller were both obscured by a relatively thick fog, making it impossible to see their specific appearances.
By the time they passed in front of Gehrman Sparrow, the latter could barely make out a few details through the fog.
The man bending over to pull the cart had a face that was rotting to the bone, oozing pale yellow pus; the woman's skin, not covered by the flower-and-bird fan, clothing, and jewelry, was swollen and shiny, studded with numerous bluish-black patches.
With a ding, a bell rang, and a blue train with only two carriages sped out in front of Gehrman Sparrow.
It was only then that Gehrman Sparrow noticed the black iron tracks paving the street, with long lines running above them.
On the top of the train's engine, a somewhat complex metal support extends out, sliding along the long lines.
Through the train's glass window, Gehrman Sparrow could see the passengers inside.
They were all facing the street, but only their heads remained, each head dragging a bloodstained spine.
Gehrman Sparrow's pupils dilated slightly as he watched the scene silently, remaining motionless for a long time.
Nearly a minute passed before he took a step forward, attempting to enter the blurry street shrouded in gray mist.
However, the fog blocked his way, and no matter what method he used, he could not get through it.
Fifteen minutes later, Gehrman Sparrow stopped trying, closed the wooden door to dispel the fog, and then Teleportation the door directly to the pirate ship, without any concern about encountering the curse.
He then placed the wooden door on the deck and reached out his left hand again to grasp the doorknob.
Suddenly, a cracking sound came from Gehrman Sparrow's neck, as if his head had been lifted up by an invisible hand, dragging out his bloody spine.
Without a change in expression, Gehrman Sparrow coldly raised his right hand and pressed it heavily onto his head, forcing it back into place.
Immediately afterwards, seemingly unaffected, he turned the handle and pushed the wooden door open again, letting it rest against the ship's side.
But this time, there was no gray fog, nor were there any shadowy streets, houses, or trains; it was completely normal.
The next second, the wooden door rotted rapidly, turning into a puddle of mud, as if trying to escape its Fate of being experimented on.
Gehrman Sparrow did not stop him, but instead took out a gold ring inlaid with a ruby from thin air and wore it for nearly ten seconds.
After the ring disappeared, Gehrman Sparrow reached out with his right hand and dragged the ordinary wooden door out of thin air, continuing his various attempts.
Once he confirmed that the wooden door would lose its effect once it left Bansy, Gehrman Sparrow casually flicked it away, causing it to disappear into thin air.
Two hours later, the dark clouds in the sky gradually dissipated, and the long-brewing storm ultimately did not arrive.
Once the pirate ship was far away from Bansy Harbor, Verdue, having treated his injuries, took a potion to quickly fall asleep and recover his mental state.
In the hazy dream world, he ran through the desolate wilderness, frantically searching for something, but to no avail.
Suddenly, Verdue heard a series of slightly intermittent sounds coming from the depths of the wilderness:
"Great, God of War..."
"A symbol of iron and blood..."
"The master of turmoil and strife..."
These words were repeated over and over, but they did not disturb Verdue or pull him out of his dream.
After an unknown amount of time, Verdue naturally woke up and opened his eyes.
At that moment, the Dawn shone into the cabin through the window, bringing a slightly hazy glow.
Verdue slowly sat up and discovered that he could recall the three-part honorific name he had heard in his dream without the aid of the " Astrologer's" abilities.
His considerable knowledge of occultism told him that this pointed to a Hidden Existence at the level of a deity.
Was it caused by the broken symbols and emblems around the altar, or by what I witnessed of the street shrouded in gray mist? Verdue frowned slightly, lost in thought.
He didn't rashly try to recite the name, because he knew how quickly and tragically people who had done similar things died.
The God of War... Verdue vaguely remembered seeing this god's name in one of his family's ancient texts, and decided to do some research before considering how to proceed.
Bansy Harbor, on a collapsed seaside mountain.
Flames, some crimson, some blazing white, and some orange, emerged from the cracks in the rubble, forming a human figure.
The figure wore black, blood-stained armor and had medium-length, fiery red hair; he was young and handsome.
With a banner-like blood-red mark between his brows and faint signs of decay on his face, he was none other than the " Red Angel," the Evil Spirit Sauron Einhorn Medici.
"If it weren't for the fact that He has the characteristics of ' Sefirah Castle ' and ' Attendant of Mysteries ', which allow Him to let the Marionette run around the world without considering distance limitations, I wouldn't need to go through all this trouble." The " Red Angel " Evil Spirit clicked its tongue, seemingly speaking to someone.
In mid-air, a crow landed and perched on top of a boulder.
It had a white ring around its right eye, and it made human-like sounds from its mouth.
"You actually used 'He' instead of 'He,' that's not like you."
The Evil Spirit, the " Red Angel," chuckled.
"Because He wants others to call him, not 'He'."
As he spoke, Sauron Einhorn Medici glanced at the raven:
"You're cuter like this than you are in real life, aren't you, little crow?"
The white-rimmed crow responded without any anger:
"Your sarcasm, like you, is stuck in the last era."
The Evil Spirit " Red Angel," chuckled and said:
"Things are progressing fairly smoothly, and we've managed to deceive Him. However, I think even if He finds out, He will probably pretend not to see it. If you want to become the Great Old One, the 'door' must return. The hypocritical Him is probably still hesitating about whether to do it, because this could inadvertently bring about a huge disaster. Haha, I love disasters."
"Little raven, when are you going to pay me? I can't gain the trust of that brainless idiot in the Abraham Family without sufficient strength."
"When he prays to you," said the white-eyed raven, "If you're worried that this state won't last long, I can Parasitism a ' Worm of Time ' into your body to help you maintain it. No need to thank me."
As they spoke, the crow took flight and disappeared into the vast night sky.
The " Red Angel " Evil Spirit turned its head and, taking advantage of the terrain, looked down at the ruins of Bansy with a slightly somber expression.
P. S.: Bonus chapter for February's monthly votes! Please vote for me in the last three and a half days of March!