"???"
Leonard shot upright. "For real?"
"Notice anything? This Mr. A is nothing like the Aurora Order's usual divine emissaries. I didn't see one shred of fanatical devotion to the True Creator on his face. Your little 'performance' was about as convincing as winking at the blind." He hesitated. "I suspect he noticed when I stole the 'potion.' He may already know."
Leonard panicked. "Then we need to run, now."
"Scared of what? He chose to keep you. That means he's made his own calculations. Running tonight is riskier than staying. You'll have plenty of chances to leave later."
"God, Cesima really dropped me in it — fed me fake intelligence and sent me straight in to go undercover."
Pallez let out a sly chuckle. "Maybe it's not the intelligence that's wrong. Maybe it's this Mr. A who's wrong."
He'd sensed it — the aura drifting from the cross on Mr. A's wrist. As someone who had once been "colleagues" with the True Creator back in the Solomon Empire days, Pallez knew that aura far, far too well.
This Mr. A was something much, much more than just a Blessed of the True Creator.
......
The next morning, the two completed their swap. Vincent would have the body for the next three days. He had to admit, in the split second the exchange happened, he felt a flicker of genuine dread:
The cooperation ahead involved demigods from the Demoness Sect, the Psychology Alchemists, and possibly even the Loen royal family. He was a Sequence 6 poking around in that kind of crowd — basically asking to die.
"What if that Demoness Sect witch goes after me in these three days? We'd be dead."
Bernadette said flatly: "Then stay away from the Aurora Order's new hideout. Wait until three days are up, and I'll continue the contact after we've swapped back."
"Yeah. Good call."
Vincent hesitated briefly, summoned the Invisible Servant, and had it deliver a letter to Mr. Z — ostensibly inquiring about the progress in catching Lanevus, but really just trying to get one message across: When can you get me a Traveller artifact?
Mr. Z replied quickly. He said he'd already got a preliminary fix on Lanevus's whereabouts and expected to have him within reach shortly. As for the Traveller artifact, he'd already submitted a request to his direct superior, the Secret of Saints, and that gentleman should be coming to Backlund soon.
"The Secret of Saints?"
Vincent's memory flickered — he vaguely recalled this figure was supposedly a former disciple of the Abraham family who'd betrayed them, fleeing with a Grade 0 sealed artifact before joining the Aurora Order. It wasn't far-fetched at all that he'd have a Traveller artifact, but this was water too far away to put out today's fire.
While that was weighing on his mind, Vincent — in a different face — sat down at an outdoor café nearby, ordered his standard "Fool's set meal" — a Dixie pie and a sweet iced tea — picked up a newspaper from a passing paperboy, and leafed through it over breakfast.
The front page was all about yet another round of royal decrees from the Loen Emperor. He skimmed them — a collection of thin, mostly inconsequential policies. In a certain sense, George III was issuing decrees purely for the sake of being seen to issue decrees.
Beyond that, some entertainment news, scattered advertisements, and then the kind of sensationalist headlines that had clearly been born from Emperor Roselle's influence on the press:
"SHOCKING! Another Horrifying Murder Case! Young Woman Found Dead at Night, Internal Organs Missing — A Collapse of Morality or the Cruelty of Reality?"
"TERRIFYING! A Woman Somehow Slept With Over Ten Men in a Single Night!"
He turned to that one — it was a noblewoman who had taken in over a dozen vagrants. He'd known to brace himself, but still felt vaguely speechless.
"Turn back a page."
Bernadette's voice.
Vincent flipped back without thinking, scanned everything, and his eyes settled on a modest-sized notice in the middle of the spread: "Next month, the Emperor Roselle Memorial Exhibition will open at the Royal Museum. For the first time, previously unseen original design sketches and personal relics of Emperor Roselle will be displayed to the public. Tickets can be pre-ordered by contacting…"
"Are you going to go take a look?"
Bernadette gave a cold laugh. "The Church of the God of Steam and Machinery and the Church of Eternal Blazing Sun first had Father assassinated at the White Maple Palace, then toppled his rule — and now, a hundred years later, their publicity still can't do without Father's name."
"Well, for most ordinary people, the changes Emperor Roselle brought to the world are tangible, things they can actually experience in their daily lives. Probably a lot of people chose to believe in the God of Steam and Machinery in the first place because of the Emperor."
Emperor Roselle didn't just enable the craftsmen's god to evolve into the God of Steam and Machinery — he made the Church what it was. It had always been a mutually beneficial relationship.
Truth be told, the God of Steam and Machinery hadn't treated Roselle badly — gave him everything he asked for, expedited his son's path to angel, treated Roselle himself as second only to a deity. But as a genuine transmigrator, Roselle's ambitions ran far deeper. Especially once he'd learned the truth about the Apocalypse.
"Hm."
Just then, Vincent spotted a familiar figure approaching not far ahead. Only when the person drew closer did he recognise them: wasn't that Sherman, Xio's old friend? Word was he'd somehow stumbled into contact with a Demoness Sect witch and taken a potion to become an Assassin.
So the woman walking with him — was she that witch?
Klein, maintaining a calibrated wariness and calm, followed Sherman into a coffee shop. The night before, he'd already made his first contact with Sherman in his guise as a wild witch — a "rogue" female Beyonder going by "Kleya."
Encountering another person who'd once been male and was now female, and who'd also extended a certain degree of goodwill, Sherman hadn't been particularly guarded.
When Sherman learned that "Kleya" was struggling to find later pathway formulas, he'd immediately thought of introducing her to Lady Alice — not out of initiative on his part, but because Lady Alice had told all of them from the beginning that bringing in stray witches was everyone's mission.
After getting "Kleya" settled in a seat, Sherman went straight to the private section at the back. Shortly after, he returned with a strikingly beautiful woman.
Noticing Kleya's stiffness, Alice smiled and sat across from her: "Relax. This is a public place — no Beyonder would want to make a scene here."
Klein pursed his lips and shot a quick glance around. "Sherman said you have access to later formulas?"
"That's right."
"How much?"
Alice blinked, then covered her mouth to laugh. "Didn't Sherman mention? Some formulas can't simply be bought with money."
Klein went immediately on guard. "Then what do you want?"
"Simple — our organisation only provides formulas and materials to our own people, free of charge. All you need to do is prove you're 'one of us.' Complete some tasks for us, and you'll get what you need."
Klein fell silent. He twisted his fingers anxiously, then carefully asked: "How exactly do I prove I'm 'one of you'?"
"Hmm, let me think."
Alice tapped her chin thoughtfully. "First, go kill someone for me. His name is Edsak — he's a noble."
"What did this person do?"
Alice looked genuinely surprised, shot a glance at Sherman, and laughed: "No wonder Sherman introduced you to me after knowing you for just one day. You two are exactly alike — equally naive and equally dense."
"..."
"Relax. He's just a piece of scum who's been violently assaulting innocent young women."
To be continued…
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