"Was this the Numinous Episcopate demigod who suddenly left at the cemetery back then?"
Klein's eyes narrowed slightly, and in the dim, gloomy corner of the warehouse, familiar silver-white characters appeared:
"Great Master, your loyal servant Arrodes has something to report to you. May I take up a little of your precious time?"
Muttering 'as expected,' Klein maintained the dignity of The Fool and nodded gently. As the silver characters faded, the previously still image suddenly changed.
Black-robed figures, each holding a pale candle, jointly carried a dark, seemingly heavy coffin and placed it in the center of a pile of grotesque skulls.
The black-robed Numinous Episcopate demigod stood at the very front of the coffin, and Arrodes thoughtfully marked a few words in conspicuous silver-white characters beside him: "Patrick Bryan."
Klein noted down the name and watched as the hooded believers in the image began to dance, a slightly twitching, rather frenzied, and rhythmic 'Spirit Dance'.
As the 'Spirit Dance' progressed, the dark coffin seemed to seep out dark red blood, staining the grotesque skulls before tracing complex and abstract strange patterns on the ground, like a feathered serpent ready to devour.
This… Klein's brow twitched. Before he could think too much, just as he had etched the complex and abstract feathered serpent pattern into his mind, he heard Patrick Bryan's low, hoarse voice, as if from the Underworld:
"King from the depths of Hell;"
"Angel playing the Music of Death;"
"The Ruler above the River Styx…."
And as Patrick Bryan recited, the blood-colored skulls around the dark coffin gradually took on a layer of eerie green, blending with their original blood color, creating an extremely chilling sensation.
The 'Spirit Dance' grew more intense, and voices seemingly from the Underworld continuously echoed. The skulls floated up one by one, appearing to have a life of their own.
Then, in chaotic order, they flew towards the heavy, dark coffin, penetrating the lid as if without substance and entering inside.
The coffin instantly transformed into a deep, bottomless vortex, expanding in place and emanating a cold, chilling, lofty aura.
Even though this was just a scene recreated by Arrodes, Klein still felt a tremor from his Spirit Body. This was also the first time he had directly faced the aura of an angel outside of that mysterious gray fog space.
While horrified, many questions arose in his mind. He had long confirmed that Arrodes's abilities were limited. Things like 0-08, Trissy's ring, and even Duke Aaron were beyond its prying.
Yet now, this sycophantic magic mirror dared to directly display a scene involving an angel before him.
Was it because this angel was too weak, or because 0-08, that ring, and even Duke Aaron were considered more dangerous than a typical angel in the eyes of this magic mirror?
Before he could ponder an answer, Klein heard Patrick Bryan's respectful and devout voice:
"Teacher, I encountered an Undying named Azik. I sensed the aura of a god on him, but unfortunately, I have lost track of him."
Within the deep vortex formed by the dark coffin, an ancient, chilling voice emerged, making one's soul feel as if it would directly leave the body:
"No need to bother. He is no longer who he was back then."
At this, the ancient voice turned sinister:
"Of course, if you see him again, you can tell him that going to the Abyss of Ferrying in East Balam of the Southern Continent will restore all his lost memories."
Amidst a chilling laugh, the scene stopped there, plunging into chaos, leaving only Klein frowning and pondering the conversation he had just heard.
The angel referred to as 'Teacher' by Patrick Bryan was at least one of the top figures in the Numinous Episcopate. Just from the tone of their conversation, Klein knew that the entity's desire for Mr. Azik to go to the so-called "Abyss of Ferrying" definitely harbored ill intentions.
As for 'he is no longer who he was'… Just as Klein was still thinking, the originally hazy dream world rippled as if a stone had been thrown into a lake, and a slightly familiar laugh suddenly rang out:
"How lively! It seems I've arrived just in time…"
The silver-white characters, which were in the process of interweaving and reorganizing, suddenly stiffened. Arrodes, who had been waiting for Klein's praise, fled like a mouse encountering a cat, not even bothering to bid Klein farewell.
No longer concerned with the sycophantic magic mirror, Klein stiffly turned around and looked at Duke Aaron, who had appeared beside him at some unknown point, a faint smile playing on his lips. He forced himself to speak in a low, composed voice:
"Mr. 'Emperor,' intruding into someone else's dream is impolite."
Looking at Klein, who even in the dream maintained his Sherlock disguise, Aaron clicked his tongue. A bronze high-backed chair, identical to those in the Tarot Club, materialized in Klein's dream.
Aaron sat down casually, looking at the tense-faced Klein across from him, and said with a smile:
"Hmm, a Sequence 5 of the Spectator Pathway is called a Dreamwalker. As the name suggests, it's very useful."
"Meeting in a dream can avoid a lot of trouble, like the 0-08 you're very familiar with."
His face twitched imperceptibly. Klein glanced at the bronze high-backed chair and replied in the hoarse, deep voice of "The World":
"Mr. 'Emperor,' you might have misunderstood my previous information. I am not familiar with 0-08. The information concerning that terrifying Sealed Artifact came from the great Mr. Fool."
Leaning back comfortably in the high-backed chair, Aaron quietly watched Klein perform. Finally, he said teasingly:
"In my opinion, your acting skills are far superior to your detective skills, Detective Sherlock Moriarty. Hmm, or perhaps I could also call you Klein Moretti, correct?"
A thunderclap echoed through the hazy dream world. This was the manifestation of Klein's intense emotional fluctuations in the dream. He was caught off guard by Aaron's direct hit, and it was several seconds before he slowly spoke:
"Excuse me, I haven't heard that name. I think we should hurry and discuss the cooperation we agreed upon earlier."
Watching Klein desperately try to change the subject, Aaron clicked his tongue. A not-so-thick stack of documents materialized in his hand, and he read them out one by one as Klein's face grew darker:
"On September 16th, the day after Nighthawk Klein Moretti's funeral, Sherlock Moriarty appeared out of thin air in Backlund…"
…..
"And Lanevus, who caused the Tingen City tragedy, was also reported to MI9 by the great detective Sherlock Moriarty…"
Watching Klein open his mouth, still wanting to say something, the stack of documents in Aaron's hand instantly turned into scattered light particles. He flicked the only surviving photograph to Klein and chuckled:
"No need to be nervous. I merely extracted some things I found rather suspicious from the Church of Evernight's Red Gloves team's investigation report on you. Before you say they're all coincidences, you'd best take another look at this photo."
The sense of unease in Klein's heart grew stronger. The moment he saw the photograph, his pupils dilated violently, as if ten thousand unknown mythical beasts were stampeding within him.
The photo was taken from a top-down angle, but it was still clearly visible: in the center of the photo was a pale-faced young man, covered in mud. Beside him was an excavated grave, and the black-and-white photo on the tombstone was identical to the young man.
"You… you knew I wasn't dead when you were in Tingen?"
Recalling his previous sophistry, a strong sense of shame, like being stripped naked and scrutinized with a magnifying glass, surged from the depths of Klein's heart, almost drowning his rationality.
Enjoying Klein's rich and varied expressions, Aaron snapped his fingers, pulling Klein, who was caught in an internal struggle, back to his senses:
"Congratulations, you guessed right. Hmm, too bad there's no reward."
"It's not just you; those members of the Tarot Club are all tainted with Mr. Fool's aura. This is quite noticeable to High-Sequence Beyonders of the Fate Pathway, high-level Spirit World creatures, and a very few special existences like me."
He inexplicably recalled the strange little boy who had given him the Wheel of Fortune card. Klein, feeling somewhat enlightened, finally managed to suppress the surging shame and asked in a deep voice:
"You didn't report this to the Church?"
Aaron looked down at Klein, clicked his tongue, and retorted playfully:
"It seems you're quite disappointed?"
"I can help you fulfill that regret. It's just a small favor for me."
Klein's mouth twitched. He paused for a few seconds before continuing:
"But you are a Blessed of the Goddess."
The expression on Aaron's face grew more playful. He slowly rose, gazing at Klein, and retorted word by word:
"What are you, then?"
"A Blessed of The Fool? A famous great detective? Or a Steam worshiper from the Midseashire County?"
The hazy dream world instantly fell silent. Klein opened his mouth; the shame he had just suppressed was suddenly poked open again, leaving him at a loss for what else to ask.
Watching the speechless Klein, Aaron was in a rather pleasant mood. He waved his hand, dispersing the bronze high-backed chair, and spoke softly:
"Now that we've been honest with each other, we can continue discussing our previous cooperation."
"The terms remain unchanged. I can promise to guarantee your safety, and as a small compensation for your wounded spirit, hmm, I can help you resolve some minor issues."
"For example, your Nighthawk teammate from Tingen City."
Leonard's face appeared in his mind. Klein, somewhat wary, subconsciously retorted:
"What do you want to do?"
Aaron chuckled and slowly walked to where Arrodes had originally appeared, saying calmly:
"No need to be nervous. After all, I am a Blessed of the Goddess, and I will not attack a Nighthawk."
"As for him, he has already noticed those coincidences of yours, but he's unable to investigate further due to your current situation."