Chapter 76

[AI ERROR / SAFETY BLOCK - RAW ENGLISH RETAINED]

Bang!

The silver bullet traversed a short distance of a few meters before accurately piercing the tuxedo clown’s neck. Blood gushed out immediately, dyeing his skin and bow tie red.

Unable to cry out, the tuxedo clown’s throat gurgled as he gasped for breath. He wished to lift his hand to shift away his fatal wound, but his joints appeared to be filled with glue. His movements were stiff, slow, and jerky.

Bang!

Having entered a half-trance, Klein was not startled by the sight of blood. He calmly pulled the trigger again, as though it were his usual target practice.

A ghastly hole appeared on the tuxedo clown’s forehead as crimson red spewed out. The luster in his eyes dimmed.

The power of this intricate firearm exceeded Klein’s expectations.

With his knees buckling and his arms hanging down, the tuxedo clown slowly collapsed to the ground. His eyes were dazed with confusion.

Finally, his body convulsed a few times before it slowly relaxed and stopped moving altogether.

Having landed a bullseye, Klein turned around with a flourish. He swung open the chamber and allowed the spent shells to fall down.

Then, dressed in his suit and short top hat, he made his way over to Ayer Harson. He pulled out the final silver demon-hunting bullet from his pocket and inserted it into the revolver’s chamber.

The only reason he did not turn back to look at the tuxedo clown’s tragic fate was his discomfort over his first kill. But it was necessary—he had no idea what would happen if the tuxedo clown fell fully under the puppet’s control.

Furthermore, he did not dare risk entering Sealed Artifact 2-049’s range. After all, no one knew if a fluke might prevent his self-rescuing luck-enhancement ritual this time.

As for any items on the tuxedo clown, Klein only cared if there was the so-called Clown potion formula or corresponding clues. However, this was not something he was in a hurry to pursue. In a while, he could handle it together with Dunn, Ayer, and the others. If the Nighthawks got their hands on the formula, it practically meant that he had it, too—no way would they be unwilling to share the potion formula of Sequence Eight. At most, he would be required to spend some time accumulating merits and contributions. After all, he had only become a Seer recently; it would still be a long time before he fully digested it.

As his thoughts churned, Klein quickly walked over to Ayer Harson. The gentleman in the gray, double-breasted trench coat struggled to sit up but failed every time, covered in dust and mud from his falls.

“Mr. Harson, what do you need me to do?” Klein asked, crouching down. He pointed the revolver in his hand at the ground in case of a misfire.

Ayer caught his breath, then lamented, “The monster was much too strong. If it weren’t for its weakness...” Pausing, he pointed at a sky-blue metal vial beside him and said with a self-deprecating laugh, “I was trying to consume some medicine, but my hand shook...”

The vial was about the size of Klein’s thumb, no longer than five centimeters tall. Its screw cap had fallen to the ground, and the liquid had completely spilled out.

Klein reached out to pick up the vial. Squinting at it, he answered helplessly, “Mr. Harson, there are only a few drops left.”

“Go to... Borgia and search his body. It’s in his...his inner pockets,” Ayer said as he gasped for breath.

“All right.” Klein stood up and casually asked, “Is this restorative medicine?”

An item adjacent to mysticism?

“No, it only has certain restorative effects. The main goal is to stimulate our minds and squeeze out the potential...of our bodies. It allows us to maintain a decent state for a short period of time until we return to where we can receive proper treatment.”

Ayer attempted to sit up, only to fail again. “It’s called Goddess’s Gaze... Remember to give half a vial to Borgia, too.”

Without further delay, Klein turned around and briskly approached Borgia, who was groaning in pain. He found the standard sky-blue metal vial in the half-conscious Nighthawk’s pocket.

After removing the cap, he carefully held the vial to Borgia’s mouth.

Sensing it, Borgia opened his lips with great difficulty.

The bottle tilted, pouring a dark red liquid into Borgia’s mouth.

Klein estimated the quantity and stopped just in time, then screwed the cap back on.

The medicine was incredibly effective. It took Borgia only a few seconds after drinking to regain focus in his eyes. “Thank you,” he rasped. With that, he pushed himself up from the ground, first dealing with his own wounds before walking over to the unconscious Lorotta and Dunn. Then he retrieved the Goddess’s Gaze from the latter’s inner pocket.

Klein returned to Ayer’s side and fed him the remaining half-vial.

After Ayer panted a few times, his actions suddenly became nimbler. He soon stood up as though he had never been injured.

“I’ll help Borgia. You go help that partner of yours,” the charismatic older gentleman said, pointing at Leonard Mitchell.

Klein had no objections. He turned around and jogged to the poet, Leonard.

“There’s no need. I can drink it by myself.” With his disheveled hair hanging over his forehead, Leonard smiled as he raised the sky-blue vial in his hand.

Seeing Leonard dexterously push himself up with one hand, Klein, who was about to grouch to himself, suddenly blinked in surprise.

Leonard's injuries are not as serious as I expected...

He had the ability to consume the medicine from the very beginning!

That also means that he could see me walk counterclockwise as I did the luck-enhancement ritual!

No, that's not so bad. I had recited the incantation in silence, and the luck-enhancement ritual does not manifest in any external way. Otherwise, the tuxedo clown wouldn't have fallen for it...

But even so, Leonard, who had long recovered but chose to watch by the sidelines, had seen quite a lot. For example, my sneak attack on the tuxedo clown, and the fact that I wasn't affected by 2-049...

Just as Klein’s eyes began to narrow, Leonard came to stand beside him. Looking straight ahead, he chuckled softly and said, “I actually wanted to save you just now, but then I realized that you didn’t need it. Don’t worry. There are always special people in this world who can do things others can’t—like you, for example...”

“...and me.” Smirking, Leonard walked past Klein toward Dunn and Lorotta, who had woken up.

Narcissist..., Klein thought silently, feeling a little more relaxed than before.

From the looks of it, Leonard Mitchell is also hiding some secrets of his own...

Pensively, Klein regrouped with everyone else. He watched Captain Dunn put on his glove before picking up the Antigonus family’s notebook, which was covered in blood and yellowish-brown stains.

The notebook’s cover was made of thick black card, suffused with an aura from an ancient, distant time. There were no signs of softening or rotting and it was nearly identical to the one Klein had seen in his dream. He even suspected that once he flipped it open, he would see a Fool in splendid headgear.

However, he soon realized he was overthinking things when Dunn flipped open the notebook for a final confirmation. Klein was unable to discern the words from his angle, but he was certain that there was no drawing of a Fool with gorgeous clothes and a splendid headdress.

“Ahem. This is it.” Dunn closed the notebook and held it securely in his hand. Then he turned to Ayer and the others. “Let’s store this notebook and Sealed Artifact 2-049 behind Tingen’s Chanis Gate for now. We can wait until all of you are recovered or until Backlund sends someone over.”

Klein felt a little disappointed yet relieved to hear this. He had longed to see the Antigonus family’s notebook again and uncover the reason behind the deaths of the original Klein, Welch, and Naya. However, he also sensed that the ancient item was steeped in misfortune. It brought nothing but tragedy, so he dared not touch it. Handing it over to the church’s headquarters and sealing it away was probably the best choice... He secretly heaved a sigh of relief.

“All right.” Ayer Harson, Borgia, and Lorotta nodded in unison. They then turned and walked up to Sealed Artifact 2-049. They prodded one another and stuffed the puppet—which had resumed moving at some point—back into the cracked chest, monitoring it closely.

“All is well,” Ayer said, his voice now lightened by levity.

Inside the dimly glowing black chest, the puppet, wrapped in oil-stained cloth, rolled over with its body creaking, aligning its painted face with the light source. On its eerie face, beneath its black, pupilless eyes, two scarcely noticeable crimson cracks appeared.

Meanwhile, Dunn, Leonard, and Klein, who had mustered his courage, began searching the tuxedo clown’s body. They found paper flowers, handkerchiefs, poker cards, glass shards, and all sorts of strange items. However, aside from that, there was nothing of worth or any potential clues.

Hmm, other than the wallet with seventy to eighty pounds and more than ten soli..., Klein lamented to himself.

With money in mind, he immediately looked down and inspected himself. His face nearly crumpled. His formal suit, which had cost several pounds, was torn in five or six spots from his rolls on the ground and was covered in dust and dirt stains.

Dunn shot him a glance and said with a small smile, “Any losses during a mission can be reimbursed.”

Reimbursed...Upon hearing the term “invented” by Emperor Roselle, Klein's mood instantly took a turn for the better.

Hmm. This suit just needs some proper cleaning and mending before it can be worn again. It will still be presentable...

When the reimbursement comes, I can buy another set, then I can rotate them!

Yep, I'm not the kind of person who uses a reimbursement for something other than what it was intended for...

[AI ERROR / SAFETY BLOCK - RAW ENGLISH RETAINED]

However, I should consider getting a set of clothes for combat in the future, such as a black trench coat like what Captain has... Clothes with slightly poorer material would be much cheaper than a tailcoat... Tsk, is that the reason why the bastard, Leonard, never wears suits...?

“Let Frye take care of the body. We’ll see if he can find what the man originally looked like or any relevant clues.” Dunn touched the tuxedo clown’s face paint with his glove.

Then they searched the innermost warehouse and found splotches of bloody flesh that looked as if they had been smashed by boulders. They also saw one white bone after another strewn everywhere.

“Ryer Bieber was probably absorbing the power from the notebook via an ancient ritual—just like how we consume a higher-rank Sequence potion. A ritual like that is incredibly dangerous. It must be performed in a strictly controlled environment, isolated from all disturbances, and would have required him to enter a deep sleep for a certain amount of time. That was probably why he had not yet left Tingen,” Dunn speculated after inspecting the warehouse.

Hearing such a description, Lorotta laughed. Her black hair contrasted sharply with her pale face. “What a pity—we woke him up too soon. That cranky temper from being abruptly awakened really left a deep impression on us.”

“That’s also a form of losing control,” Dunn said, looking at Klein as though explaining a lesson.

“Why didn’t he just leave Tingen and attempt his absorption elsewhere?” asked Klein, perplexed.

Ayer laughed and pointed to his head. “People influenced by ancient or sinister powers often lack that kind of foresight.”

It was then that Dunn drew a sharp breath and said in a slightly pained voice, “Since you seem to be in good condition, Leonard, stay back and keep any ordinary people from coming close... The rest of us will search for items among Ryer Bieber’s remains. We’ll return to Jutland Street with them, along with the Sealed Artifact and the Antigonus family’s notebook. Then I’ll send Frye, Royale, and the police here.”