Al Hasson chimed in:
"Indeed, it's hard to imagine that the sequel to ' The Seer ' would be ' The Clown.' Logically, no one would connect the two."
"Is this strange? I remember many Sequence Potion lacking necessary connections between them." The black-haired woman, Lolota, covered her mouth and yawned. It was clear that her injuries were quite serious, to the point that even " Goddess's Gaze " could no longer keep her full of energy.
"No, Lolota, it's completely different. Even if other Sequence Potion lack connections, we can find some common ground in other aspects, but not ' The Seer ' and ' The Clown.' I simply can't understand it," Al Hasson shook his head and sighed.
Klein listened to their discussion and chuckled, saying:
"No, there are still things in common."
"What is it?" Al asked curiously, Dunn's movements of bending and stretching his arms also slowed down noticeably.
Klein answered in a very serious tone:
"Whether you're a ' Seer ' or a ' Clown,' you can find them in the circus."
"..." Al, Dunn, and Lolota were stunned.
"Pfft... Not bad, I like young people like you!" The black-haired woman Lolota, was the first to recover and laughed.
Al smiled and shook his head, saying:
"In this day and age, gentlemen with a self-deprecating spirit are becoming increasingly rare, and fortunately, we have met one today."
You think I enjoy self-deprecation...? I just couldn't think of any other common ground either... Klein muttered to himself, his smile slightly bitter as he replied:
"I just hope that Potion from this Sequence Pathway don't have names like ' Beast Tamer,' 'Acrobat,' or ' Magician ' anymore, or it'll really become a circus."
And it's a one-person group...
"Haha." Dunn and the others were immediately amused by his words, and the carriage was filled with a cheerful atmosphere.
The carriage moved forward and arrived at Zouteland Street. Klein, who was not seriously injured, was the first to enter the Blackthorn Security Company.
"Goddess! What happened to you? How did you become like this?" Rozanne glanced at her casually and exclaimed in astonishment.
Klein glanced down at his dirty and tattered suit, still feeling a pang of heartache as he replied:
"There are always unexpected events in missions, but thankfully, with the goddess's blessing, the ending is beautiful."
"Praise be to the goddess!" Rozanne devoutly drew a " Crimson Moon " on her chest.
Before Klein could speak, she asked:
"Do we need to go back to the third floor to hide? Is that Sealed Artifact really that dangerous?"
"Believe me, it's more dangerous than you think," Klein replied, still shaken.
If it weren't for my even more mysterious " Luck Enhancement Ritual," I would have perished at "2-049" today!
"Goddess..." Rozanne's lips moved, as if she had so much to say and so many questions to ask, but considering that the captain was waiting downstairs, she finally restrained her impulse and beckoned Mrs. Orianna and the others to the third floor—the two floors next to the Blackthorn Security Company. The upper and lower floors were either church properties or inhabited by devout priests who vaguely knew the situation.
Once all the civilian staff had evacuated, Klein didn't rush to the recreation room to inform the other Nighthawks. Instead, he immediately returned to assist the captain and others in escorting the Sealed Artifact "2-049," the remnants of the Monster Bieber, and the Antigonus Family Notebook to the second floor.
Through the partition, Dunn pushed open the door to the recreation room and addressed the two Nighthawks who were playing Gwent:
" Frye, Loyao, you two go to the Tilley Warehouse in the Dock Borough immediately to assist Leonard in handling the aftermath."
"Okay." Loyao, a woman with jet-black hair and a cold expression, was the first to stand up.
Frye, the " Corpse Collector " with black hair, Blue Eyes, and pale skin, stood up straight.
They put down their Gwent, walked out of the recreation room, and paused noticeably as they passed through the partition.
"Wait!" Dunn called out, living up to everyone's expectations.
"Is there anything else?" Loyao, the " Sleepless," asked, turning his head without changing his expression.
"Remember to notify the police and have them block the road. Don't let anyone near the scene until you've cleared the area and brought the body back," Dunn said, patting his forehead.
"Okay." Loyao turned around, took two steps forward, and then stopped again.
She turned around, blinked, and confirmed in a cold, indifferent tone:
"Captain, is there anything else?"
"No," Dunn replied firmly.
Loyao nodded almost imperceptibly and walked towards the door first.
Meanwhile, the cold and sinister " Corpse Collector " Frye maintained his unhurried pace.
Just then, Dunn spoke again:
"Remember, remember to tell Rozanne and Mrs. Orianna that they can come down now."
"No problem," Frye replied calmly, almost without any emotional fluctuation.
Watching the two Nighthawks walk out the door and climb to the third floor, Klein quietly breathed a sigh of relief. He followed the captain and Al and the others into the underground, proceeding straight until they reached the double-opening Chanis Gate.
"Go to the armory and fetch Old Neil. We need his Ritualistic Magic to heal us," Dunn instructed Klein, gesturing for the " Sleepless " Kenley to open the Chanis Gate.
As the effects of the medicine wore off, his spirits gradually waned.
"Okay." Klein didn't wait for the captain to add anything and continued, "I will take over guarding the armory from Old Neil, and I will also request at least twenty more Demon Hunting Bullets, while awaiting the Holy Cathedral's approval. I will suppress my curiosity about the Antigonus Family Notebook."
"..." Dunn was momentarily at a loss for words.
"Captain, is there anything else?" Klein asked with a smile after answering the question first.
Dunn shook his head, still unable to utter a word.
Klein took out his cane, turned around, walked a short distance, then headed towards the armory, where he told Old Neil, who was drinking water, the general outline of what had happened.
"You turned into a runaway Monster... and you even killed an Beyonder?" Old Neil quickly tidied the table. "I feel like I'm listening to a play script."
He muttered something as he walked around the table, heading straight for the corridor, without waiting for Klein's reply.
Klein, however, asked with considerable curiosity:
"Mr. Neil, doesn't the church have any real healing potions? Why do they need the help of Ritualistic Magic?"
"Potions made from ordinary materials cannot solidify the healing effects from the ritual for long, and extraordinary materials are extremely rare, and most are unsuitable for this kind of thing," Old Neil casually explained. "You should know about ' The Goddess's Gaze,' right? When this potion is first created through the ritual, it's a standard, genuine healing potion, but every minute afterward, its effects evaporate until only a tiny amount remains."
"I see..." Klein nodded, slightly disappointed.
As a former "keyboard adventurer" and a game enthusiast, my longing for healing potions is simply a matter of habit.
After watching Old Neil leave, he sat down and felt a peace he hadn't experienced in a long time.
In this tranquility, he recalled the Clown in the tuxedo's gruesome death, his own cold-blooded shooting, and the gruesome wound and gushing blood.
Klein's body began to tremble, and he felt a growing unease. He first stood up, then sat down, and then slowly repeated the process, interspersed with pacing back and forth.
"Phew..." He let out a breath, intending to find something to do to avoid constantly thinking about those unpleasant images.
Klein took off his top hat and suit, then took out a handkerchief and brush, and began to carefully clean the mud and dust off his clothes.
He didn't know how much time had passed when he heard the familiar footsteps of Old Neil —a distinctive sound made by his heels landing first.
"This is exhausting..." Old Neil grumbled as he walked into the room.
"Tell the rest of you not to come here for at least an hour. I need some rest," he said casually, glancing at Klein.
"Why don't you go upstairs to rest, and I'll keep watch here?" Klein kindly suggested.
Old Neil shook his head:
"It's too noisy upstairs; Rozanne is a girl who can't stop talking."
"Alright." Klein didn't insist any further. He put on his coat, hat, picked up his cane, returned to the corridor, and half-closed the armory door.
Tap, tap, tap, he walked slowly down the empty corridor, and suddenly saw a room next to him that he had never seen before.
"There's a secret door here..." Klein stopped near the corner and looked towards the room.
He discovered that " Corpse Collector " Frye had returned and was inside, examining a completely naked corpse in detail.
A corpse? Klein's heart skipped a beat. He mustered his courage, approached the room, and knocked three times on the open door.
Thump, thump, thump.
Frye stopped what he was doing, turned around, and looked at him with his cold, azure eyes.
"Sorry to bother you, I just wanted to know if this is the corpse of that Beyonder?" Klein asked carefully, choosing his words.
"Yes." Frye's thin lips parted, but he only uttered one word.
Klein's gaze passed over him and landed on the corpse, where he indeed found that familiar, gruesome wound on the forehead.
It was that Clown in the tuxedo... Klein sighed inwardly.
"Any discoveries?"
"No," Frye replied with unusual succinctness.
The atmosphere suddenly became awkward. Just as Klein was about to take his leave, Frye spoke up first:
"If you feel uncomfortable, you can come in and take a look. You'll find that it's just a corpse."
"Are you worried I have psychological issues?" Klein nodded thoughtfully.
"OK."
He entered the room, went to the long table covered with a white cloth, and looked at the corpse.
The Clown in the tuxedo had all the red, yellow, and white paint on his face removed, revealing a rather unremarkable, unfamiliar face with black hair, a high nose, and an age of around thirty.
At that moment, Frye walked to the square table in the corner and picked up a pencil and a piece of white paper.
He returned to the vicinity of the body, placed a piece of white paper there, picked up a pencil, and began to draw.
Klein glanced over curiously and discovered that Frye was actually sketching the head of the tuxedo Clown.
Before long, Frye put down his pencil, and a lifelike portrait appeared on the white paper. Compared to the corpse, it was only lacking in wounds and had blue eyes.
"What a talent..." Klein exclaimed in surprise.
"I never expected your sketches to be so good."
"Before becoming Nighthawks, my dream was to be a painter." Frye's tone was completely flat.
"Then why not pursue your dreams?" Klein asked, puzzled.
Frye put down his pencil, holding the portrait of the Clown in a tuxedo, and said:
"My father is a priest of the goddess, and he hopes I will become a priest too; it's a respectable profession."
"You were a pastor?" Klein asked again, surprised.
He found it hard to imagine someone with Frye's personality and temperament becoming a pastor.
"Hmm, not bad." Frye replied with a cold expression and a slight upturn at the corners of his mouth. "Later, I encountered some things and experienced some things, and then I became Nighthawks."
Klein didn't pry into other people's privacy, but instead asked:
"You were once the goddess's priest, so why not choose the ' Sleepless '?"
"A personal reason," Frye replied frankly, "And Ms. Daly is a good role model."
Klein nodded, about to change the subject, when he heard Frye say:
"Keep an eye on this place for me. I need to get the portrait to the captain immediately... Closing the secret door is a hassle."
"Okay." Although Klein was a little afraid of facing the corpse alone, he still forced himself to agree.
With Frye gone, the room fell silent, the body lying there weighing heavily on Klein's heart.
He took a breath and approached the long table as if trying to overcome himself.
The Clown in the tuxedo lay still, his face pale, his eyes closed, lifeless. Apart from the gruesome wounds, he exuded the unique chill of the dead.
Klein gazed at it for a while, his mood gradually calming down, and he seemed to have found peace.
His gaze swept across the wrist and he noticed a strange brand on the Clown's wrist. So, he mustered his courage and reached out to touch it, wanting to turn it over so he could see it more clearly.
The icy sensation had just traveled from Klein's fingertips to his brain when the pale, lifeless hand suddenly sprang up and grabbed his wrist.
She gripped his wrist tightly!
PS: June 7th, first update, please vote!