Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Chapter 9

31
——Finally, I successfully reached a deal with that human and let him go. To be precise, it was compensation. He had to do something for me. I felt that I was the victim from beginning to end: Mr. Nightmare got into my dream, and I entertained him attentively. I was just here to help my ally, and I didn't intend to cause any trouble. But he dropped my things. Of course, this is not important. What is important is why he couldn't restrain his curiosity and took a look while he was cleaning up?
He saw something he shouldn't have seen, and he will be punished. In addition to exposing me, Russell and I had made an agreement when he was awake that I could not spread the contents of the diary, especially the parts involving secrets and the starry sky.

I also need to help Him keep an eye on and monitor those who can read His diary and spread it widely without knowing the dangers contained therein, causing panic and chaos, unless they are authorized by Roselle himself.

This is my deal with Him.

He hopes that the humans and low- and middle-sequence Beyonders in this world can live on safely without knowing anything. At least the real fellow countrymen from the old days won’t suddenly lose control, go crazy, die, and explode into pieces of flesh while reading His diary.

Of course, I can teach His diary to others to a certain extent, but I cannot spread it a second time, nor can I teach anyone Chinese. That gray notebook is a hundred years old, and it was the material I used to teach Richard. Why is it still in my conscious world today? Do I care? Or is it the work of "someone" or "something" again? This is not good and needs to be dealt with.

Frankly speaking, I regret my actions in training Him. My purpose was just to let Him gather the remnants of the Temperance Faction for my use, split the anchor of the Bound God, and fight against the Rose School controlled by the Mother Tree. I wanted an obedient subordinate, just like their name: puppet. But He always has his own ideas, such as taking my sect to do charity. Through the reverse influence of long-term believers on the gods, I have added a lot of messy anchors that I don't know what the meaning is.

Moreover, he had established a charitable foundation nearly two hundred years ago, and received a large grant from Roselle, who was the Archon at that time.

Which devil is doing charity? It's me, so it's okay.

32
I remember when He was still more like Him, He was always persistent in teaching me Chinese, and was fussy about my accent, which he thought was tasteless.

"You still long to hear your own language," I said.

"Of course." He asked me, "Don't you hope so?"

"I think it's fine." I answered truthfully. "The Kingdom of Loen is very similar to my hometown in the 17th century. Even the pollution fog that lingers all day after the Industrial Revolution is becoming more and more similar, just like home. Your alienation is probably because this world is generally Western. If this was an ancient Eastern country, you would definitely feel a sense of belonging."

Russell curled his lips and said, "What you said makes sense, but your Chinese translation is so lame that I just want to laugh when I hear it."

"Your spoken English is terrible too. I heard your country has an English major-level exam. I guess you didn't pass it." I responded sharply, hurting each other. "The writers and inventors whose works you modified must be lining up to beat you up, from Trier all the way to Backlund."

“Damn, stop talking about this.” Roselle waved her hands quickly, “Matilda is pregnant. I’m going to have my third child! Congratulate me!”

33
But, but - I know, someone is influencing me.

If I am not wearing the skin of a demon, if I am the real me, not this clone with only one hand, if I come with my real personality, the feather pen and its current pen holder will explode and die when they write the first word about me. But there are not so many ifs, I can only bear the humiliation for now.

——After all, the Abyss Angels have never been welcomed by people. Because I like to run around everywhere, do whatever I want, have no reserve like mythical creatures, and always disrupt the game between gods. I still walk on the ground carelessly like in the Fourth Epoch, never avoiding the eyes of humans, and never caring that my arrival symbolizes disaster and blood.

Mr. Nightmare also had signs of being distorted. He just happened to come into my dream and just happened to drop my notebook. I don't know what the writer wants to do, and what the point of arranging a Sequence 7 through me is, but he thinks he can use me by offering me a blood sacrifice. The last person who was so stupid and naive was Roselle, so I warned him.

Now Russell is probably scolding me every day in the mausoleum.

Although his inventions are all over the world, people use the light bulbs and props he developed, watch his operas and novels, and nobles and commoners play the games he created, but those who believe in him are classified as cults. His only anchors are my charity that received the grant, and a few senior members of my sect - they think I have a good relationship with him, and it is true. The children of the charity will thank Emperor Roselle in their weekly prayers, chanting his name and mine. These tiny anchors that spread all over the world are his last straw.

The Black Emperor's insignificant, self-deceiving conscience saved Him. He was awake, I knew. I was glad He was awake, because this way, the great consul, the emperor who made a deal with the devil, could listen to the prayers of children and the weak in the lightless mausoleum, struggling to death day after day between lucidity and madness, and recalling over and over again the sins he had committed and the sea of ​​blood he had created with his own hands.

...What a feast for the eyes.

34
Dunn pinched the bridge of his nose and yawned slightly, feeling that he seemed a little out of energy today.

But this is normal. I was busy with Klein Moretti all day yesterday investigating witch-related cases, and I followed him to the morgue to communicate with Mrs. Sharon. But Mrs. Sharon's spirit had disappeared without a trace, and it was too late. In the afternoon, I was busy writing reports for the church and assisting the police in handling the scene of the incident to prevent copycat crimes. In the early morning, I kept going to the lunatic asylum to visit Hood Eugen, and in the evening, I had to patrol Tingen's dreams as usual and digest the nightmare potion. The whole day was so full that even an insomniac would feel tired.

To refresh himself and confirm his thoughts, Dunn silently recited the food he had eaten in his dream last night: pan-fried lamb chops with lemon juice, sweet milk tea with plenty of milk, black pepper steak, fish and chips, expensive Highland black tea, smoked salmon sandwiches, milk sponge cake, biscuits...

Thinking of this, he habitually checked himself and found that although his body was exhausted, his spirit was actually better than ever! The magic potion of "Nightmare" seemed to have completely integrated into his body. He felt that his control over power had reached the best state ever!
My potion has been completely mastered! All the efforts during this period have not been in vain. Klein's method is indeed effective... A hint of surprise appeared in his deep eyes, and a figure flashed through his mind and calmed him down. However, the captain of the Nighthawks, who has always been steady, could not hide his joy. He stood up from his chair and paced back and forth in the office for several times.

"Knock, knock, knock!" Someone knocked on the office door. Cohen Li stuck his head out of the door. "Captain! Old Neil brought Mrs. Celeste's snacks. There are your favorite pies and ice cream. Mrs. Celeste made them especially for you. Come out and eat! You were late last time!"

Dunn's brows were overjoyed. Although he maintained the dignity and composure of a captain, his pace involuntarily quickened by half a step.

Cohen Li happily opened the door and led his captain to the bustling lounge. When going downstairs, Dunn glanced out the window for some reason and saw a gentleman passing by the night watchman's building. The two of them met each other's eyes by chance, and Dunn subconsciously nodded to him, and the other also kindly touched the brim of his hat to greet him.

The figures of Kornley and Dunn quickly disappeared from the window.

Edward loosened his hat brim, looked at the small building with the sign "Blackthorn Security Company" and said to himself, "Is this the place?"

"This turned out to be the base of the Nighthawks. The hero who destroyed the God's Descent Plan was here?" He said with a hint of appreciation, "That's right. That's good. When disaster strikes, there will always be someone who struggles to the death. It's perfect to fall into the abyss inch by inch with hope in your arms. I really want to make this city mine more and more."

He listened attentively, and heard the Nightmare say in a steady but joyful voice: "I have mastered the Nightmare potion. This month, our Nighthawks team may submit a second special application." Then there was a noisy cheering, booing, pats on shoulders and hugs, as well as vague blessings that seemed to contain something, and a name that was mentioned over and over again - "Daly".

Followed by "Lady", a human female, his love interest?
Thinking back to last night, he showed only a sense of justice and an outstanding spirit of self-sacrifice. Edward thought with interest, but those voices were too complicated, and human voices were always messy and lacked sufficient value, so He only listened for two seconds and no longer cared.

"Okay, Nightmare can help me monitor the movements of the Nighthawks, and I can be the first to know if there is any emergency. The work is basically done. Next, do you want to visit that daring human?"

In a house with a red chimney and a garden, he was flipping through a notebook and adding a new sentence: "...It is understandable that Dunn saw the Angel of the Abyss in his dream, which unfortunately made the other party unhappy. He was therefore subject to quite covert control and suggestion, which was in line with Ince Zangwill's expectations." The former Archbishop of Darkness, who was secretly delighted and slightly relieved, sneezed unexpectedly and felt a chill.

TBC
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*Thank you for your support! Don't aim too high, focus on the plot, and it will be a success if I can finish the book.jpg
*With the help of effective anchors and the Outer Gods, Russell did not sleep all the time as in the original work, but was half awake and half asleep, but half of the time he was awake was crazy. Carving a tombstone for Edward Vaughn in the grave was one of his few and most conscious actions.

It is now September 9th, and there are still 5 days until God descends.

(End of this chapter)