20demayo Chapter 179 Bernadette's Prophecy
Chapter 179 Bernadette's Prophecy
Chapter 179 Bernadette's Prophecy
Bernadette's emotions were more stable than he had expected. Only the pen, which had been silent for a few seconds, remained still after he finished reading the entire page of the diary. Bernadette stood up from her chair and asked in a completely flat tone:
How much of his diary contains entries like this?
Cyril recalled the Russell diaries he had read and answered honestly:
"Most of them, I guess."
Upon hearing his reply, Bernadette's expression remained unchanged; she simply looked at him calmly.
A deep purple hue suddenly appeared in those azure eyes, turning them extremely dark, resembling the surface of the sea before a storm.
In this situation, her eyes clearly lost focus, becoming a blank stare.
A few breaths later, Bernadette, regaining her senses, frowned slightly and said in a thoughtful tone:
"I have a vague prediction of the future. You may encounter a crisis or an opportunity in the near future."
Cyril: (_;)
"Crisis...or opportunity?"
Bernadette shook her head slightly: "What I see is only a blurry corner of fate; I have no way of knowing the origin of the waves, let alone the specific details."
"My advice is not to blindly follow fate."
Whether a crisis is an opportunity or not may depend on your own choices and efforts.
After a moment's hesitation, Sirion asked, "When would that be...?"
Before he could finish speaking, thick, bluish-green vines hung down from all around, engulfing Bernadette's figure before receding.
Disappear.
Looking at the spot where Bernadette had disappeared, Cyril pouted and muttered:
"It's mysterious when you leave before I've finished speaking, but it's really annoying when you do."
After hesitating for a moment, he took out a gold coin from his pocket and flicked it into the air with a clang.
After repeating this several times, he put away the gold coins, took off his coat, and lay down on the bed, constantly recalling the details of tonight's battle in his mind.
...Judging from tonight's battle, with sufficient preparation, I can defeat the vast majority of Sequence 6 and below Extraordinary beings head-on.
But against Sequence 5, unless they all foolishly launch suicide attacks like that "vengeful spirit," I probably won't be able to beat them, but I should be able to protect myself.
In terms of strength, my current level is roughly between Sequence 6 and Sequence 5, which matches the strength of that incomplete "Otherworldly Traveler" power.
It's a pity I can't actively use my status and special abilities to corrupt others, otherwise I wouldn't be afraid even if I encountered an angel!
After his thoughts wandered for a while, Cyril fell into a deep sleep amidst the rustling of the roadside trees swaying in the evening breeze outside the window.
The next day, still half asleep.
Cyril inexplicably saw a thick, silent gray mist swirling before him, and upon it sat a magnificent figure of the "Fool."
And Sherlock Moriarty, the "world" whose deep voice prays beneath the feet of the "Fool".
"Respected Mr. 'Fool,' please convey to Mr. 'Fate' that he can perform the ritual at any time to retrieve those two magical items."
"Also, I have received the 'Book of Secrets' and will share its contents with him within the next two days."
"Finally, I'm a little curious: were those strange scrolls he used last night magical artifacts? If so, can I buy them? If not, what extraordinary path of power do they belong to?"
After the prayer of "the world" ended, under the gaze of Mr. "the Fool", Cyril finally regained consciousness.
He gazed at the figure above the gray mist with a complicated expression, muttering to himself:
"It's barely dawn, is it really necessary to be this diligent? ::"
He paused, recalling the prayer he had just heard, and replied:
"I understand. Those scrolls are considered magical items. I made them myself, but I have no intention of selling them at the moment."
The powerful effect of the paintings that Klein saw was entirely due to the fact that he used his own blood as paint for each one. Those few paintings were the result of a period of more than half a month of hard work, and now he felt like he was almost anemic.
After he answered, the "Fool," seated atop the endless gray mist, did not vanish as before, but instead spoke to remind him:
"Try not to display your abilities in front of the extraordinary beings of the True God Church."
As the words fell, the gray fog in Sirion's vision quickly dissipated, and he then saw the sky outside the window, which was just beginning to brighten.
Cyril:.:
"Being a detective is such a tough job."
He sighed softly, turned over, pulled the blanket over his head, and went back to sleep.
"Achoo!"
Klein, who had just left the gray fog, couldn't help but sneeze.
He pulled out a tissue, wiped his nose, and couldn't help but mutter:
"Got a cold? No, it's more likely that Cyril is here because I disturbed his sleep!"
"That guy definitely wasn't a corporate slave before he transmigrated. He's still sleeping in now, he has no spirit of working like a beast of burden... Forget it, if I keep complaining, I'll start to feel sorry for myself."
He muttered a few words, then walked to the desk and opened the "Book of Secrets," bound in parchment.
Then he saw the beginning of the book, a sentence that seemed somewhat familiar to him:
"We worship the moon, not the goddess of the night."
Upon seeing these familiar words, Klein couldn't help but show a thoughtful expression:
"This is very similar to the life philosophy school."
"But based on Miss Sharon's description and the clues I know about the School of Life, it's impossible for 'Witch King' Karaman, who is active in the Southern Continent, to have any communication with the School of Life, which is active in the Northern Continent."
"Achoo!"
Suddenly, Klein covered his mouth and nose with his hand and sneezed.
It was only then that he realized he actually had a cold, and that no one was behind him.
"How could this be... I'm already at Sequence 7."
Silver City.
Following Professor Alger's method of "The Hanged Man," Derrick continuously drained his spirituality for two days, leaving his spirituality in a relatively dry state. Finally, signs of losing control appeared.
He reported his auditory and visual hallucinations immediately.
After some examination and confirmation, he was taken to the bottom of the round tower, which was used to house residents showing signs of being out of control and to attempt to treat them.
In the gloomy, dimly lit corridor, Derrick, escorted by two tall knights, continued to venture deeper.
At one point, he suddenly felt a chill for no apparent reason, and a sense of unease and fear welled up in his heart for no apparent reason.
He subconsciously looked around, trying to find some sense of security in his surroundings, but unfortunately, the dim environment only exacerbated his unease.
Fortunately, he didn't walk in the gloomy, dark corridor for long. The two Dawn Knights escorting him stopped in front of an iron gate with barred windows.
One of them, Dawn Rider, pointed to the door and said:
"You'll stay here for a while; we'll bring you food and medicine."
As he spoke, he took out a small, dark iron bottle and handed it to Derrick.
The latter took the bottle and immediately brought it to his lips, gulping down the liquid inside.
After the cool liquid slid down his esophagus into his stomach, he became calm in a very short time, and the auditory hallucinations in his ears and the visual hallucinations in front of him weakened simultaneously.
This is a potion developed by Silver City for extraordinary individuals showing signs of losing control, although in reality, the potion does not have the effect of treating loss of control.
It's like a tranquilizer, forcing extraordinary individuals showing signs of losing control into a calm state.
Of course, this special sedative can indeed provide some relief to extraordinary individuals who are showing signs of losing control. As long as they can adjust their state in time, extraordinary individuals who are showing signs of losing control can naturally return to normal.
However, for Silver City, only a small number of people can ever walk out from the bottom of the round tower.
The harsh environment caused varying degrees of pollution to accumulate in their bodies. Normally, this might not have any effect, but once they started showing signs of losing control, this accumulated pollution could easily become the trigger that ignites their own downfall.
Ha!
The sound of the iron gate being closed and locked echoed.
Derrick lowered his head and used the dim, flickering candlelight in the room to get a better look at his surroundings.
A low bed covered with a straw mat, a chair, a stone square table, and nothing else.
Because his emotions were suppressed by the tranquilizer he had just taken, Derrick only glanced at the room briefly before lying down on the bed.
In the dimly lit room, after an unknown amount of time, he suddenly heard a loud banging on the door, mixed with faint, sharp, mournful cries.
The sudden turn of events stirred up Derrick's emotions, which had been calmed by the tranquilizer, and he stared intently at the metal wall separating the two rooms not far away.