Chapter 944 - The Fourth Act

Chapter 944 The Fourth Act

On the heavily scuffed and damaged Revival Square, the environment turned dark as a gloominess and eeriness filled it in a seemingly corporeal manner. Even the blinding silver lightning wasn’t able to dispel this feeling.

Daly Simone acutely sensed that an unknown creature was crossing the spirit world and approaching. An ominous feeling rose up in her as though she could already see Ince Zangwill using such an accident to easily escape, never to be found.

She felt ice-cold in a manner that couldn’t be resisted, just like when she first became a Beyonder.

Back then, due to a particular accident, as a nineteen-year-old, she had lost her family and ended up drinking a potion by mistake. She ended up becoming a Corpse Collector and was placed into a Nighthawks team.

The influence of the potion and the wounds from losing her family had made her enjoy gloominess and coldness. She couldn’t help but approach corpses, often loitering in cemeteries and sleeping there.

This made her appear odd, with people instinctively avoiding her. This not only dropped her body temperature, but it also slowly froze her heart and soul as they turned ice-cold.

She was afraid of this feeling. She still hoped to live as a person; hence, she instinctively used how men coveted her for her looks and body to gain a boyfriend. She wanted to use the warmth of a body to stop her soul from turning cold.

In this decadent and surreal life, she met that man, a man who always warmly listened to her. He was a man who always stayed by her side and provided her help. He was a man who became embarrassed when faced with jokes involving the two sexes. He was a man who accepted all the flaws and weaknesses of his teammates with a sincere attitude. He was a man who fumbled in helplessness when she jested at him again and again. He was a man who hid the pain and sorrow in his heart, to the point of suffering an early receding hairline. He was a man who was the first to step forward when encountering danger, putting himself in between the danger and his teammates.

She changed. She began putting on makeup that made her appear older. She stopped mixing with other men but kept her jokes to deliberately express that she hadn’t changed in an obvious manner.

However, she still didn’t make it in time. She didn’t manage to witness the man master the acting method, digest potions, and advance to Sequence 6. She didn’t manage to see him reach out his hand to invite her to an opening dance or be able to participate in his final battle. She didn’t manage to tell him her feelings in time.

I was wrong. I failed to do anything in time. Today, I’m not having it repeat again... Daly’s expression turned sorrowful as the corners of lips curled bit by bit with tenderness and sweetness.

With her eyes closed, she suddenly pulled out a small metal bottle from a hidden compartment. She threw the stopper and gulped the liquid inside.

Her blue eyeshadow and blush instantly brightened, and even her skin turned slightly translucent. Her coiled up hair was instantly released, pushing her hood back as they fluttered.

“Spirit wandering the void, higher-order creature that leave one with awe, the unforeseeable creature,” Daly chanted with simple and forceful ancient Hermes, “I, I shall sign a contract with you in my name, pray that you leave this place!”

Behind the eight-“legged,” the white-feathered Ince Zangwill, a figure appeared. It was a blood-colored piece of flesh with countless eyes on it and arms of different races.

Just as it was about to grab Ince Zangwill and drag him into the spirit world, it suddenly paused. It then turned its gaze towards Daly Simone.

Pitch-black snake-like scales instantly appeared on Daly’s skin, and within the gaps of the scales, white feathers grew.

Her knees buckled as she knelt down in pain, but she ultimately maintained her spirit channeling posture.

That quill began writing autonomously on Ince Zangwill’s body.

“The unknown existence descended upon Revival Square and was just about to take Ince Zangwill away—but no, it was attracted by Daly Simone. Its sense of aesthetics was inclined towards humans. Oh no, it abandoned Ince Zangwill. It decided to listen to Daly Simone’s suggestion and ended up leaving.

“How surprising that when it came to spirit channeling, Ince Zangwill, a demigod, would actually lose to Sequence 5 Daly Simone. Although this lady had consumed the Flower of Spirit and paid an immense price, she had little chance to defeat Ince Zangwill who was barely using the Quill of Alzuhod.

“Ince Zangwill was just too unlucky. He actually encountered a matter with nearly zero probability!” Amidst the lightning strikes, blood-red beams lit up in Ince Zangwill’s pitch-black eyes that were covered with mysterious symbols before calming down. His “hand” which held the quill wrote on his body once again:

“Another unknown existence was lured into the vicinity and attempted to enter the real world...”

Just as he wrote that, the quill suddenly paused as it continued writing:

“Incoming! Incoming! It, no— ‘She’ was Reinette Tinekerr! No, Reinette Tinekerr chased away all the surrounding creatures in the spirit world. ‘She’ gave Ince Zangwill a glance, looked away, and left, continuing ‘Her’ patrol of the surroundings.

“Ince Zangwill is too unlucky, just too unlucky!”

Ince Zangwill’s rapidly-moving body suddenly paused as though he had suffered a terrible blow.

Boom!

A thick bolt of silver-white lightning smote the eight-“legged” monster. It sent Ince Zangwill flying up as he let out an inhuman cry.

In his pitch-black eyes, the blood-red beam spread out like an explosion, turning into two bloodthirsty, cruel, and maniacal blobs of light.

“Ince Zangwill could no longer control his emotions and maintain a good state of mind. He lost most of his reason...” The more the slightly damaged quill wrote, the darker it became until it slowly stopped.

With a scream that left one with goosebumps, an endless darkness blanketed the area, pulling Daly Simone and Leonard Mitchell into a dream.

However, the thunder booms and lightning snapped the dreamers awake.

Ince Zangwill took a step back with his eight “legs,” leaving behind an afterimage in his spot. He rapidly ran towards Daly Simone who was on the brink of losing control, hoping to rip apart the Nighthawk who had foiled his plans for escaping.

Boom! Boom!

Ridiculous bolts of lightning blasted down, stopping his attempts to escape.

Boom! Boom!

The eight “legs” that were covered with white feathers, which now had signs of being charred, moved one after another as he kept his body low while he circled the square, dodging the lightning in search for an opportunity to kill Leonard and Daly.

With time, he realized there was a problem with the remaining reason that he had. The frequency of the lightning was dropping!

The person that kept casting Lightning Strike had apparently reached his limit, and his spirituality was almost drained!

Ince Zangwill’s heart stirred as a cruel smile was plastered across his face. He ran at high speeds as he muttered in ancient Feysac, “All of you will die!”

He had apparently forgotten of his need to escape.

All of you will die... Leonard Mitchell could do nothing despite hearing that sentence. It was because he couldn’t even open his eyes. He couldn’t determine where Ince Zangwill was, nor use his spirituality to lock onto him.

At this moment, he felt as if he had returned to Tingen, back to the Blackthorn Security Company, back to the day where they engaged Megose in an intense battle. He had returned to the time when he was weak and helpless, unable to stop anything himself.

Back then, he clearly wanted to help Captain and Klein. Despite overcoming his horror, despite having Old Man to provide him with help, he quickly fainted due to his low Sequence and lacking strength; thus, failing to participate in the subsequent battle. All he could do was wake up to see two corpses and use the pain of meeting family members to resolve the blame he placed on himself.

He always cherished his leisurely life in Tingen City, the feeling of not needing to take any responsibility as if he was the protagonist. However, the more he cherished those memories, the more he hated his former self, wondering why he hadn’t worked harder.

With his eyes tightly closed, figures of light were darting around, and all he could do was ball his hands into a fist as he hurriedly shouted, “Old Man!

“Old Man!”

This time, there wasn’t any response in his mind. No one provided him any help, as Pallez Zoroast was still in a deep sleep.

Leonard’s breathing turned heavy as he couldn’t help but move his head from side to side with the darting of the light. Then, with a slightly hoarse voice, he shouted in clear anxiety, “Old Man!

“Old Man!

“Old Man!!”

His voice gradually softened, drowned by the thunder. Leonard hung his head bit by bit, his face filled with shame and pain.

His lips quivered as he relaxed his hand and gripped it tight again. His entire body froze for several seconds.

Suddenly, he wore a firm expression. With a grimace, he opened his mouth and chanted softly in ancient Hermes, “The Fool that doesn’t belong to this era.

“The mysterious ruler above the gray fog. “The King of Yellow and Black who wields good luck!”

Just as he said the prayers, he magically saw a scene in his mind.

Ince Zangwill, who had seemingly turned into a spider or some deformed feather wolf, was running frantically and dodging the lightning strikes. From time to time, he attempted to attack him and Daly Simone.

And unlike normally, Ince Zangwill’s figure appeared rather blurry in this scene. It was almost completely represented by red light, and it could only be used to determine his location.

Leonard was first taken aback as he immediately laughed. Teardrops flowed down as he laughed.

Without any hesitation, he raised his left palm, pressed the glove to his temple, and then tightly gripped the Fate Siphon charm with his right hand.

“Fate!”

The incomprehensible, mysterious word in ancient Hermes resounded as a transparent book appeared in front of Leonard. It flipped to a page amidst the ethereal chanting of “I came, I saw, I record,” as he locked onto the eight-“legged” monster with white feathers growing all over him.

Silver bolts of lightning blasted as Leonard Mitchell threw out the charm with a hideous expression, shouting, “Die! Ince Zangwill!”

He had waited to say this for a very, very long time. He had played this scene in his head so, so many times.

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