Backlund, East Borough, 7 Pinster Street-
After a busy day, Leonard finally had the chance to ask his questions:
"Old man, what is Sefirah Castle?"
The slightly-aged voice in his mind fell silent for a few seconds. He chuckled and said, "The place where you meet every Monday is most likely Sefirah Castle."
Leonard never expected to hear such an answer. His mind went blank for a moment. He was surprised, shocked, and confused, mixed together with the thoughts of it being impossible for to pop out of nowhere and the poignant feelings of how complicated things were.
After a while, he pressed in a low voice, "What kind of place is Sefirah Castle?"
As though sighing and laughing self-deprecatingly, Pallez Zoroast said, "Actually, I'm not too sure. I've only heard some rumors.
"It's different from the creation myth you know. Rumor has it that the original Creator left behind nine different entities. They were kingdoms, cities, rivers, oceans, and keys. Sefirah Castle was one of them.
"It might not actually be a castle, but something else. As for what its exact form is, you might know it better than me.
"The reason why I'm certain of its existence is because I sensed it when I became an angel, but I was unable to see it and establish a connection with it.
"My great-grandfather mentioned a theory that the nine entities might have something to do with the sefirot of the second Blasphemy slate. Unfortunately, because of various reasons, ‘He' was unable to decipher the details related to the sefirot."
Leonard calmed down. Leaning back against the sofa, he asked thoughtfully, "Old Man, do you suspect that Mr. Fool is the embodiment of sefirot?"
Based on what he had seen and heard from the Tarot Club and Old Man's occasional lecture, he had a certain understanding of matters regarding the deities.
After a long silence, Pallez Zoroast replied, "Perhaps..."
Under the strict curfew at night, there were almost no pedestrians on the streets of Backlund. Occasionally, there would be carriages passing by, carrying people of status.
After arriving at the agreed-upon house, Klein wasn't in a hurry to enter. He half-closed his eyes, raised his right hand, and grabbed at something in front of him. He pulled out another Sherlock Moriarty wearing a black double-breasted frock coat and a silk half top hat while holding a gold-inlaid cane.
This was the image of him from the Historical Void when he left his residence earlier.
As Klein was right in front of him, this image appeared stiff, like a prop on-stage.
According to his previous experiments, Klein knew that this was the mysticism principle of "a unique shared consciousness in time." To put it simply, everyone was essentially unique. If one's true body remained sentient, the projection wouldn't remain sentient.
It was the same when summoning projections of the deceased from the Historical Void, a result Klein suspected to be attributed to his insufficient level. In short, his projections could only engage in more mechanical and instinctive battles. Something that was unknown to the Scholars of Yore had prevented them from giving a corresponding answer even if they experienced it for themselves.
This confirmed one of Klein's guesses. Those fragments a Scholar of Yore could see in the historical fog was something he had learned in real life and had studied. Simply put, the fog needed a Scholar of Yore to light it up, bit by bit.
Of course, Klein also suspected that if the historical fragments of the same matter had been mostly lit up, the rest would very likely be presented naturally.
At least the corresponding ability won't be lost just because I don't understand it well enough. As long as there's a projection in the Historical Void, that state will be a complete snapshot... That's enough... Klein looked at the projection that could only act on instinct. His body suddenly vanished and entered the grayish-white fog.
Since Hounds of Fulgrim, who weren't full Scholars of Yore, could live in the Historical Void, there was no reason that a true Scholar of Yore couldn't. The only problem was that there was a time limit. In addition, if time dragged on, the marionettes in the real world would definitely die. However, this was only changing the form of companionship it had with a Scholar of Yore.
As Klein's body entered the grayish-white fog, his consciousness suddenly came alive in the projection.
He raised his hand and pressed down on his top hat. Wearing the face of Sherlock Moretti, he came outside of the house. Following their agreement, he took out the Master Key and placed it against the door, turning it gently.
His figure appeared in the room, and under the crimson moonlight, he quickly surveyed his surroundings.
The sofas, cupboards, high-back chairs, coffee tables, and other furniture were evidently old. They seemed to come from the previous century.
In the dark environment, in a gothic regal dress and a matching bonnet, Sharron suddenly appeared on a high-back chair.
"Good evening," this Puppet lady nodded slightly and greeted him.
If she hadn't spoken, she would be a classic and most exquisite doll.
At the same time, Marie, who was wearing a white shirt and black vest, also phased into existence on the sofa.
...Sir, it's already winter. Aren't you cold wearing just this? Ah right, you're "dead," one who isn't afraid of the cold... After lampooning inwardly, Klein took off his hat and bowed at the blonde, blue-eyed, pale-faced Sharron.
"Good evening, Miss Sharron."
He then turned around and said to Marie, "Good evening."
To this Wraith who was formerly a Zombie, the deepest impression Klein had of him was his card game with the zombies he controlled.
We should play cards when we have the time... He sighed silently.
The reason why he suddenly thought of playing cards was because he had previously analyzed the combat styles of Scholar of Yore, and he realized that if he were to encounter Zaratul, both sides would very likely end up playing a card game.
You throw a Consul Roselle card, I'll throw an Emperor Roselle card. You throw a Bernadette card, I'll throw a Benoit. If you throw The Half-Fool card, I'll match it with Amon...
I didn't expect that the battle between a Seer would one day become "playing cards." It's a realistic, abnormally harrowing "game of cards"... Sigh, but Zaratul is a Sequence 1 angel, and he wouldn't give me a chance to play cards. Besides, my success rate at summoning the important figures in the Historical Void is rather low... Klein retracted his gaze and took the initiative to say to Sharron, "I've recently needed to do something. It's rather difficult and dangerous. One of the steps is to collect Beyonder blood from the twenty-two different pathways. As for the Wraith pathway, the only person I can ask for help is you and Marie. You should be skilled at hexes, and you should have a way to remove the connection between your blood and yourself."
In fact, he could've attempted to summon Admiral of Blood Senor on the spot and mix his blood into the porcelain jar. However, he didn't know if it would be effective, nor could he divine it. After all, this involved a level that exceeded Sequence 1, and he lacked information. The only thing he could confirm was that drawing that symbol didn't bring him and the suppliers any danger.
Due to the fact that a Scholar of Yore had many means at their disposal, he had even tried to summon the former Witch Trissy. He easily subdued her and smeared her blood onto Groselle's Travels.
However, it was useless.
After some thought, Klein believed that a logical contradiction on the timeline had happened, preventing him from success. That blood was formerly provided by Trissy of the past. The person Groselle's Travels pulled in would undoubtedly be the former Trissy, so it was equivalent to changing history.
Since history couldn't be changed, the experiment failed.
After listening to Sherlock Moriarty's request quietly, Sharron said without any change in expression, "Okay.
"How much do you want?"
Miss Sharron's reaction is exactly as I imagined... Klein took out a glass tube.
"One tube would suffice."
Dressed in a gothic regal dress, Sharron raised her right hand slightly. The glass tube seemed to possess a life of its own as it left Klein's palm and flew over.
Right on the heels of that, the doll-like lady's right hand landed on her left wrist. Her nails suddenly grew long and became unusually sharp.
With just a light stroke, a wound opened up at her wrist. Blood seeped out, but it didn't drip down. Instead, it floated up and entered the glass tube.
By the time the tube was filled, Sharron's wound had healed instantly, leaving no scar behind. The stopper jumped into the tube and spun a few times to automatically seal the tube.
During this process, the pale-faced Sharron wore an impassive expression, as if she had suppressed all the feelings in her heart.
Looking at the tube of blood in her hand, Sharron reached out with her left hand and touched it, slowly sliding from top to bottom.
This was done to remove her connection to the blood.
After doing all of this, the blood tube leaped up and flew back into Klein's hands.
"Is there anything else I can help you with?" Sharron sat on a high-back chair and said calmly.
"Not for now. Thank you." Klein shook his head and snapped his fingers, igniting a scarlet flame in his palm.
The flame quickly rose and enveloped the glass tube.
By the time the redness dissipated, the blood was gone.
This was a new change in "Flaming Jump." It could transfer the items on him to his marionette or body.
Apart from this, all sorts of Beyonder powers from before had been enhanced and modified.
Having used his new powers skillfully, he looked at Sharron and asked casually, "How's the digestion of your Puppet potion?"
When he first met Miss Sharron, he felt that she was like a doll. He believed that, regardless of her nature, or it being a result of the temperance principle, it would've been a form of "prior acting." It would be of great help to the digestion of the Puppet potion.
"Not bad," Sharron replied calmly. "I should be able to digest everything in another one to two years."
One to two years... Indeed, no matter how fast it is, it's counted in years. But for me, it's been less than half a year...
This isn't something to be proud of. It was all arranged... Of course, if you count the time I was hung above the door of light, it's counted in millennia... Miracle Invoker... If I can escape this fate, I might be able to create a miracle... Klein sighed inwardly and gently nodded.
"What are your plans for the time being?"
Sharron said, "I hope to restore Teacher's body."
Marie, who was sitting on the sofa, added, "But didn't you say that the leader of the Secret Order, Zaratul, is in Backlund and is closely related to the Rose School of Thought?"
"Yes," Klein said with a smile. "Wait patiently. There will be a chance."
This was actually a form of consolation. Even though he had become a Scholar of Yore and had found many helpers, he had no intention of dealing with Zaratul at the moment. A Sequence 1 in full would definitely be unimaginably terrifying!
Furthermore, the more he exposed himself to the path of Seer, the more Klein could understand how terrifying and difficult it was to kill Zaratul.
After stopping George Ill's apotheosis, Klein planned on leaving Backlund and giving himself more time to grow.
