Although the voice coming from the telegraph office wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, it was just a little intermittent. It lacked the obvious changes in tone. Normally, it wouldn’t strike terror in others, but Verdu’s heart suddenly erupted with a surge of fear.
It was like a bullet with flames shooting into an ammunition dump. It accurately hit a barrel of flammable gunpowder and ignited the fear that Verdu had accumulated and suppressed previously.
The horror that swept into every corner of his body was like a hand that grabbed Verdu’s heart and blanked out his brain. He turned around abruptly and ran frantically towards the remnant pier where the pirate ship was.
During this process, Verdu had completely forgotten to think. He didn’t remember wearing a classic robe that could “Teleport.” All he did was run through the ruins with his feet, occasionally tripping over random items and falling heavily to the ground. Sometimes, his face would turn purple from his tightening clothes, and he had no choice but to stop to catch his breath.
However, every time he composed himself a little, he would crawl up and continue running. He looked like he had lost his rationality and was acting purely on instinct.
Without the force he provided, the wooden door couldn’t maintain its balance. It slid down from the collapsed wall and fell to the floor covered with bricks.
The grayish-white fog and the shadowy houses disappeared.
After five minutes, Verdu ran back to the pier under the storm.
His eyes were wide open, filled with panic and confusion. He didn’t notice that there was a figure standing on the deck of the pirate ship, quietly looking down at him.
This was the young man wearing a half top hat and a long black trench coat. He had a cold expression.
Verdu didn’t even think about it and immediately used the gangway to return to the pirate ship. He rushed into the cabin and rushed to the second floor before rushing into his room.
Bang!
He slammed the door shut and curled up on the small, narrow bed. He wrapped himself tightly with the blanket and shivered.
When another of his ribs fractured again, the excruciating pain struck him and he finally recovered from his horror. He realized that his limbs were sore and his body was hot. Every breath he took was like thunder.
He struggled with all his might, and finally, he took off his classic robe and fell back into the bed. He felt dizzy and nauseous. The air just felt insufficient.
Outside the cabin, the cold-looking man suddenly raised his hand. He took out a human-skinned glove and wore it on his left palm.
Suddenly, the man vanished into thin air and appeared in a corner of the ruins. He appeared beside the ordinary wooden door.
He bent down and raised the wooden door, allowing it to stand in front of the collapsed wall.
Right on the heels of that, the man in the black trench coat mimicked Verdu’s actions. He reached out for the handle and twisted it downwards.
Then, he pushed the wooden door forward and let it lean against the wall.
Almost at the same time, he saw a grayish-white fog. He saw the faintly discernible streets and houses in the fog.
Amidst the houses, the clearest, most eye-catching one was the Bansy Harbor Telegraph Office. The rest were more or less blurry.
At this moment, the calm voice in the telegraph office asked through the door, “Who… are… you?”
“I’m… Gehrman… Sparrow,” the young man in a half top hat replied in the same staccato.
The interior of Bansy Harbor Telegraph Office suddenly fell silent as though someone was walking silently towards the door.
At that moment, Gehrman Sparrow turned his head to the other side.
In the deep end of the street, a figure walked over. He was wearing a straw hat and had a towel around his neck. He was bending over to pull something.
As the figure approached, the outline of the object behind him gradually became clear.
It was a black vehicle with two wheels. It had a roof that could block the scorching sun and rain.
In the vehicle sat a lady wearing a waist-length dress with an embroidered fan.
Both she and the driver were concealed by thick fog, making it difficult for anyone to see their exact appearances.
When they passed Gehrman Sparrow, he barely managed to see a few details through the fog.
The hunched man pulling the carriage had a rotten face with pale-yellow pus flowing. In areas where the lady wasn’t covered by the fan and clothes, her skin was swollen with a glisten amidst many blue and black spots.
With a ring, a bell sounded. A blue train with two carriages sped out from in front of Gehrman Sparrow.
At this moment, Gehrman Sparrow realized that there was an iron-black track on the ground. Above him were long lines.
On the top of the train carriage, there was a rather complicated metal frame that slid over the long lines.
Through the glass window of the train, Gehrman Sparrow saw the passengers inside.
They faced the streets, but only their heads remained. Each head was dragging a bloody spine.
Gehrman Sparrow’s pupils dilated as he silently watched this scene without moving for a long time.
After nearly a minute, he took a step forward in an attempt to enter the blurry street beneath the grayish-white fog.
However, the fog blocked him. No matter what method he used, he couldn’t pass through it.
Fifteen minutes later, Gehrman Sparrow stopped his attempts and closed the wooden door, eliminating the fog. Then, he dragged the wooden door and “Teleported” directly to the pirate ship. He wasn’t worried about being cursed at all.
He then placed the wooden door on the deck and reached out his left hand again to grab the door handle.
Suddenly, there was a cracking sound from Gehrman Sparrow’s neck. His head seemed to be raised by an invisible hand as it dragged out a bloody spine.
Gehrman Sparrow’s expression didn’t change as he coldly raised his right hand and pressed it above his head, pressing his head back to its original position.
Immediately after, he turned the handle as though unaffected and pushed the wooden door open again, allowing it to lean against the shipboard.
However, this time, there was no grayish-white fog to be seen, nor were there any visible streets, houses, or trains. It could be said that there was nothing unusual.
In the next second, the wooden door rapidly decayed, turning into a pile of mud, as if it was trying to avoid the fate of being tested.
Gehrman Sparrow didn’t stop it. He took out a golden ring embedded with a ruby and wore it for nearly ten seconds.
After the ring vanished, Gehrman Sparrow reached out with his right hand and pulled out the same ordinary wooden door from the void before continuing his attempts.
After confirming that the wooden door would lose its effects once it left Bansy, Gehrman Sparrow casually waved his hand, allowing it to vanish in midair.
Two hours later, the dark clouds in the sky gradually dissipated. The storm that had been brewing for a long time ultimately did not descend.
When the pirate ship was far away from Bansy Harbor, Verdu, who had finished treating his injuries, took a bottle of medicine and allowed himself to quickly fall asleep so that he could adjust his mental state.
In the hazy dream world, he ran in a desolate moor, looking for something frantically, but he found nothing.
Suddenly, Verdu heard a faint voice coming from deep in the moor:
“The great… God of War…
“The symbol… of… iron… and… blood…
“The ruler… of… chaos… and… strife…”
This sentence repeated over and over again, but it didn’t alarm Verdu enough to snap him out of his dreams.
After some time, Verdu woke up and opened his eyes.
At that moment, the morning sun shone into the cabin outside the window, bringing with it a faint light.
Verdu slowly sat up and realized that he didn’t need to use the powers of an Astrologer to recall the three lines of the honorific name that he had heard in his dream.
And his relatively rich mysticism knowledge told him that it was referring to a hidden existence at the level of a deity.
Is this the result of the incomplete symbols and labels around the altar, or a result of me witnessing that street in the grayish-white fog? Verdu frowned and fell into deep thought.
He didn’t rashly attempt to recite that honorific name, because he knew how miserable people who had done something like that had died.
God of War… Verdu vaguely remembered that he had seen this deity’s name in a book in his family. He decided to do some research before considering how to deal with it later.
…
Bansy Harbor, on the collapsed coastal mountain.
Red, blazing-white, or orange flames emerged from the crevices of the gravel, forming a figure.
This figure was wearing a black blood-stained armor, with a half-grown fiery red hair. He looked young and handsome.
There was a blood-colored mark on his glabella that resembled a flag. There were traces of decay on his face. It was none other than the Red Angel evil spirit, Sauron Einhorn Medici.
“If ‘He’ didn’t have Sefirah Castle and an Attendant of Mysteries characteristic to allow his marionettes to run around the world without considering the limitations of distance, I wouldn’t need to take such a roundabout route.” The Red Angel evil spirit tsked, a mystery as to who “He” was speaking with.
In midair, a raven landed on the top of a boulder.
There was a circle of white on its right eye, and a human voice sounded from its mouth.
“You actually used ‘Him’ and not him. This isn’t like your style.”
The Red Angel evil spirit chuckled.
“That’s because ‘He’ wishes others to call ‘Him’ as him, and not ‘Him.’”
As “He” spoke, Sauron Einhorn Medici glanced at the raven.
“This form of yours looks cuter than your true self, don’t you think? Lil’ Raven?”
The white-eyed raven replied without any hint of anger, “Your mockery is just like you. Still living in the previous epoch.”
The Red Angel evil spirit smiled and said, “The developments have been rather smooth, and ‘He’ has been fooled. However, I believe that even if ‘He’ discovers it, ‘He’ will probably turn a blind eye. For the two of you to become Great Old Ones, ‘Door’ has to return. The hypocritical ‘Him’ might still be hesitating about whether to do it, because if ‘He’ isn’t careful, it will bring about a huge disaster. Haha, I like disasters.
“Lil’ Raven, when are you going to make your payment? If you don’t have enough strength, I won’t be able to gain the trust of the brainless Abraham.”
“When he prays to you,” said the white-eyed raven. “If you’re worried that such a state won’t last long, I can parasitize a Worm of Time into your body and help you maintain it. There’s no need to thank me.”
As “He” spoke, the raven spread its wings and disappeared into the vast night sky.
The Red Angel evil spirit turned “His” head and, with the advantage of the terrain, wore a solemn expression as “He” looked down at the Bansy ruins.
