I can only maintain it for about a minute or so... That's way too short, isn't it? A thought flashed through Klein's mind. Without thinking about anything else, he took two steps to the desk.
He put down Groselle's Travels and quickly wrote on a piece of paper with 0-08:
"George III plans to use this speech to bait out all his enemies who want to sabotage his ritual. However, if everything goes smoothly and nothing happens, he'll take the opportunity to consume the potion and reveal his trump card to aim for divinity. After all, there are too many unknowns in the future, making it unsafe. Furthermore, he has made appropriate preparations for the ritual, they're already prepared to an adequate level.
"This is a very reasonable development."
After Klein wrote the last sentence, and before he could check if there was anything wrong with the written content, the dim quill in his hand disappeared without a trace, as though it had never existed.
And those few words seemed to drain all of his energy, making him feel dizzy. He took a few steps back and collapsed into his chair.
It doesn't make sense... It wasn't exhausting for Ince Zangwill back then... Uh, it should be because I forcefully summoned it, and I didn't dare let 0-08 weave a story on its own. When I wrote on the piece of paper, I had to rely on my own spirituality to support it. As for Ince Zangwill, he could get 0-08's cooperation, so it wasn't that draining... Klein closed his eyes and used Cogitation for a while before feeling better.
Under normal circumstances, having had no physical contact with 0-08 and merely meeting it once had made it impossible for him to summon this Grade 0 Sealed Artifact. However, on the one hand, he had the Snake of Fate to personally augment his luck, and on the other hand, he had Groselle's Travels. This was the item left behind by the Dragon of Imagination Ankewelt. Inside it was the City of Miracles, Liveseyd. It had a connection to a certain degree to an existence like 0-08. If it wasn't for some high-level existence's disruption, these two items would've long been reunited.
Klein didn't know if this fate and particular connection could increase the chances of a successful summoning. He only wanted to give it a try since he didn't stand to lose anything. To his surprise, he really succeeded.
And it was precisely because of this that he didn't dare to use Groselle's Travels to bear the contents of 0-08's projection. He didn't even dare to let them come close, afraid that something irreversible would happen.
This was Backlund, which had an extremely dense population!
Yes, logically speaking, there shouldn't be any accidents. After all, 0-08 is a Historical Void projection. It's fake. Groselle's Travels was conjured by the Dragon of Imagination, and it's also fake. A fake combination can't be real in any way. They lack the foundation of a Beyonder characteristic... I can go back to the uninhabited reef island to test it... Klein rubbed his temples and returned to the desk. There, he began reading what he had just written.
He didn't directly write that George III would be unsuccessful in his advancement and die on the spot. He believed that if he interfered with a Sequence 1 angel, the projection of 0-08 wouldn't be able to be so direct. He had to be more tactful.
Furthermore, there was also the Psychology Alchemists and Amon's brother. Overly obvious effects would definitely be detected and easily made use of. All he could do was beat about the bush to mitigate the unknown.
I hope it works... After staring at it for a while, he folded the piece of paper and stuffed it into his pocket.
Then, he sacrificed Groselle's Travels back above the gray fog.
After doing all of this, Klein began to consider another problem. It was when he would head out to buy some ice-cream for Will Auceptin.
Backlund has Zaratul, and it's very possible that Amon is there. If I head out too frequently, we might run into each other. It's a little dangerous... Why don't I summon some ice-cream for Will from the Historical Void? It's very real when eating it, and it'll disappear in fifteen minutes. There's no need to worry about gaining weight at all. It's just splendid... Klein couldn't help but mumble inwardly.
In the end, he decided to change his clothes and leave the house because he had to keep his promise!
...
Saturday morning, the sky was gray and misty. It made one feel inexplicably stifled.
This was a common scene in Backlund's deep winter. Although the smog wasn't as thick and pungent like last year, the geographical environment and climate characteristics had determined that such situations would definitely exist for a long period of time. Furthermore, victory over environmental pollution was never something that could be declared in a year or two.
After putting on a black coat that covered her knees, and a black veil hat, Melissa quickly walked to the door.
Benson held his hat and shook his head.
"A young girl who isn't even twenty years old should be dressed like a teenager. You look overly mature and old-fashioned in that, understand? Old-fashioned."
Melissa glanced at her brother and simply replied, "The price of a pound of bread has risen by a quarter-pence."
"This price..." Benson tsked.
He then took out a silver pocket watch covered in vine-leaf patterns and snapped it open.
"Let's go. There's still a long way to go to the municipal square."
Melissa tersely responded and went out into the streets with her brother.
"Good morning, Mrs. Daniel." After taking a few steps forward, Benson saw a neighbor leaving. He greeted her with a smile.
He was good at chatting and had long established a good relationship with his neighbors.
The lady named Mrs. Daniel wore a pure black dress. She was in her forties and had a thin face. Her face was covered in a thin black veil that hung down from her hat. When she heard the greeting, she nodded and replied simply, "Good morning, the two of you."
She didn't make any small talk, and she coldly walked away.
As he watched her back, Benson deliberately slowed down his pace. When they finally opened up a distance, he turned to ask his sister, "What happened to Mrs. Daniel?
"I've been too busy recently, so I haven't visited the neighbors in a long time."
Melissa pursed her lips and said, "Mrs. Daniel's eldest son was confirmed to have died on the front line at the Amantha mountain range. News from yesterday."
"That tall, bashful, but thoughtful, kind, and sincere young lad? When he came back the last time, he said that he was promoted in the army and became an officer..." Benson asked in surprise.
Melissa nodded.
"I couldn't imagine that Larry would die just like that..."
Just like how she couldn't imagine the tragic deaths of her classmates at school.
In just a few seconds, some people could no longer speak, communicate, or study.
Benson was silent for a moment before sighing.
"I've been busy lately. Actually, I've been dealing with bereavement payments, but perhaps the list I received didn't include Larry, so I'm not sure.
"There's a lot of information on that list. Some are cheerful, others are humorous, others are the only child within a family. Some are determined, while others are the leaders of the soldiers around them. Some just got married and don't have children. Some are preparing presents for their youngest daughter, while others had love letters with them. They planned on sending it at the post office after the battle... But, they're all dead."
Melissa and Benson fell silent at the same time, and neither of them spoke for a long time.
When they were almost at the intersection, Melissa looked at the road ahead and said in a low voice, "What do you think His Majesty will be talking about in his speech today?"
"Perhaps it's a form of musters, or perhaps it's to convey the faith that we will prevail," Benson said in passing.
Melissa turned to look at her brother.
"This isn't like you, Benson. Shouldn't you be making some snarky remarks?"
"It should wait till the speech is heard and the specific content is understood. The most basic principle of being a person is to not make comment on things that one doesn't know enough of. Otherwise, they would be worse than a curly-haired baboon," Benson said with a smile.
At this moment, he saw another neighbor.
The other party's hair was white, and his face was half-covered with a scarf. He was wearing a thick jacket and was holding a cloth bag in his hand as he hurried past the siblings.
"Mr. Thomas's dressing is so strange... Does he still need to do something else?" Benson looked at the back of the man and asked in puzzlement.
Melissa replied in a low voice, "Mrs. Thomas is sick, and that spent quite a bit of their family's savings. Recently, with food prices sharply increasing while Mr. Thomas's income remains the same, he has to queue up at the soup kitchen every few days to get some bread. He's a decent gentleman, so he probably doesn't want others to recognize him.
"Also, the food at the soup kitchen is always limited. If one's late, there might not be any left. They'll have to go to the cathedral, the workhouse, and other places. The handouts just happen to start after His Majesty's speech, so Mr. Thomas probably wants to go there directly."
Benson nodded slowly and asked in concern, "What's wrong with Mrs. Thomas? I know a few good doctors."
"A disease caused by anxiety," Melissa explained what she had heard. "Mrs. Thomas is very worried about her youngest child who's serving in the army."
"You mean Thomas Jr.?" Benson frowned slightly.
After receiving his sister's confirmation, he fell silent, as if recalling something.
After a while, when they approached the nearest municipal square, Benson looked ahead and whispered, "Thomas Jr. is already dead..."
"..." Melissa didn't respond, but her expression was a little dazed.
They walked forward silently, as if they were relying on inertia.
More and more people appeared in front of them. These people were either dressed in formal attire or holding canes, dressed up as gentlemen. Otherwise, they were dressed in blue, green, yellow, and red-colored skirts; sweaters and leather jackets matched with pants; or dark-colored petticoats. Their colors were dull.
They came out of their houses and from the streets they were on, like water droplets splashing upward. They merged together at the intersection, forming a tiny stream.
The stream surged ahead, combining with other tributaries, and flowed into the square's entrance, interweaving into a majestic torrent.
The torrents slowly surged forward, flooding the square.
Amidst this torrent of humans, Melissa felt like she was as puny as a water droplet.
