really don't know what he went through to become like this."
Beneath the silver-white mask lies a skull almost sculpted from crystal, completely devoid of flesh and blood. Words like terrifying, eerie, and sinister seem pale and powerless before this face that transcends ordinary imagination, losing the exquisite beauty that language can use to describe all things.
Taylor Franz had seen far too many things in his life, and he himself had killed far too many hideous aliens, so he was certainly not frightened by a somewhat unusual skull, but he still generously showed a genuine surprise.
This wasn't about Ludwell's unexpected appearance, but rather about some kind of speculation about him.
"Did you notice anything?"
From the moment Azik took the ring that was said to have once belonged to the Grim Reaper, Klein developed a deeper suspicion and intense interest in Ludwell's past.
His intuition told him that the mutation that had occurred to Ludwell was likely not isolated, but rather exceptional, unlike the cheap "mutant" curse.
Is it the contamination from the "artificial Grim Reaper," or the direct modification of the extraordinary beings under the jurisdiction of the "Grim Reaper" by the angels?
Is this change exclusive to the "Death God" pathway, or is it applicable to all pathways?
If possible, what price would be required?
He was doubting... doubting whether this method of near-modification could directly affect him.
How much do you know about 'alien species' and 'demons'?
Taylor Franz helped Ludwell put the mask back on, and only after the pale light had completely disappeared did he take the time to answer Klein's question.
"Aliens" and "Demons"?
Klein was taken aback at first, then replied without hesitation.
"I've read some documents and heard a few rumors from friends. It seems that if someone reaches the Sequence Seven 'Werewolf' through the 'Alien' pathway, they can temporarily transform an ordinary person into an alien vassal using some kind of ritual or magic?"
"I have had direct contact with one or two 'demons' and have seen them use ritual magic to summon their kind, but I don't know the details."
This fragmented knowledge all stemmed from Klein's personal experiences.
"Yes, that's probably what you said." Taylor Franz stepped into the increasingly warm and soft light, nodding approvingly. "In the middle of these two paths, they have mastered the ability to transform others."
"The modification of 'alien species' is often temporary, a one-time use of available materials, and usually yields very little benefit. 'Demons,' on the other hand, have more room for manipulation and are easier to 'reproduce' because of the 'Abyss'..."
"I think the changes that occurred in Ludwell are likely similar to those in the latter."
"Influenced by the power at the top of the sequence..." Klein agreed.
"Ludwell once possessed a Death Ring, and that ring was somewhat special."
"You mean the rumors are true?"
"Does that ring really belong to Death?"
Taylor Franz suddenly stopped and turned back with interest to examine the "Hell Admiral" hiding in the shadows.
He felt as if he had seen a treasure, a unique item born in an ancient era, re-emerging in this age of rampant desires, its value increased hundreds or thousands of times.
Do you know the difference between an extraordinary being who follows the 'Demon' pathway and a 'Demon' born directly from the 'Abyss'?
He suddenly threw a seemingly unrelated question at Klein, just as he always did.
"Is the latter an extraordinary, naturally born creature?"
Klein sensed something unusual about the problem, but couldn't grasp the specific key point.
The "demons" that crawl out of the blasphemous ritual do not appear out of thin air; creating such creatures requires a large amount of nourishment.
Blood, life, enough spirituality... the most convenient way is still to sacrifice human lives directly.
This looks like stuffing an ordinary person into a ritual, and after a series of chants and prayers, a new "demon" crawls out.
An ordinary person directly becomes a Sequence Six... Isn't this an alternative, naturally extraordinary biological production method?
"Of course not."
Taylor Franz laughed and denied Klein's guess.
"You Rune people, well, the place you grew up in is different from ours, and the 'demons' you have to face are not the same as ours."
His words were already loaded with meaning, and he carefully examined Klein's fairly crisp suit before continuing.
"The rewards for killing 'demons' extraordinary beings and ritual derivatives are different."
"When a warrior kills the former, in addition to the head that brings him glory, he also receives a lot of gold coins in exchange for his extraordinary characteristics, while the latter sometimes doesn't even leave behind his head."
Wait… Klein suddenly realized something.
"The 'demons' transformed through rituals rarely possess any special properties."
Taylor's slow, mellow voice suddenly shattered the mental barriers that were blocking his inspiration, bringing new knowledge into his world of thought.
"You mean the changes that happened to Ludwell were actually a gift, a gift different from ordinary blessings, which is why he is stronger than an ordinary 'gatekeeper'?"
This judgment was based on reports and rumors, but if he had met the second "gatekeeper," he would have found that Ludwell was not only stronger, but also had more bizarre and diverse abilities.
Just like Megaius back then, just like Lanluus who used the true creator... After clearing away the clouds, the truth brought flexible associations, helping him to find all sorts of old friends hidden in the past who were essentially the same.
"It's very likely that the 'Spirit Cult' produced some byproducts during the implementation of the 'Artificial Death' project... These are all just my guesses."
Taylor was a man of action.
He shrugged, stretching his body which hadn't been through combat in a long time, and took a few steps back in the fairly wide passage.
It was still early, and most of the department members were still busy with their work. The corridor behind the rest area was deserted, and there were only three people in the long, dimly lit environment, including the half-dead puppet.
"You won't get results just by guessing. You can try Ludwell's ability to use psychic abilities to access his spirit and search for his memories. I'll keep an eye on things for you."
Faced with the much more enthusiastic intelligence colonel, Klein became unusually flustered, hesitant and unable to make up his mind.
After the colonel's several taunts and urgings, which were quite "hunter-like," he finally raised his hands and manipulated Ludwell to demonstrate his abilities.
While the "Gatekeeper" of Sequence Five could not inflict any real damage on a true demigod, a "Iron Knight," Taylor ordered Klein to manipulate the puppet to attack him simply to obtain more accurate data through practical experience.
Soon, as the final "Gate to the Underworld" returned to nothingness, the "Iron Knight," whose clothes remained neatly arranged, offered his insights while adjusting his cuffs.
"Without that ring, many of his special qualities cannot be directly expressed."
To help Klein understand, he even thoughtfully used a metaphor.
"It's like the body of a teenager, but when you really get into a fight, you end up like an eighty-year-old man, all enthusiasm and no ability to fully unleash your potential."
There was no need to be so vivid... Klein dared not pretend he didn't understand, nor did he dare to be perfunctory. He forced a serious expression and nodded slightly.
Then, he immediately changed the subject.
"Is psychic communication still necessary?"
"This is your secret partner." Taylor simply smiled.
...
As the last rays of dusk fell upon the palaces and gardens of Sodrak Palace, the hazy gold softened the usual majesty of this symbol of "balance" and "order," making it appear more gentle.
Viscount Hunter, the king's new favorite and the banker most likely to succeed the aging Padric Duy as the new Earl of the Palace in the next decade, bathed in the golden light, walked alone through the long garden corridor, frequently turning corners, until he arrived at a secluded courtyard.
"Greetings, Your Majesty."
From a political-biological perspective, the Viscount Hunt, in the prime of his life, was far more vigorous than the Supreme Lord, who was reclining in the courtyard.
But at this moment, he showed the utmost respect, humility, and deference to the point of almost bowing low, his head almost level with his waist.
"Why put on such an act, Friedrich?"
"There are no outsiders here..."
The old man with a stern face opened his eyes, slowly got up by supporting himself on the armrest, and turned his upper body halfway to look at the courtier.
He seemed to be in a good mood, with a slight upturn of his mustache on his resolute face.
"You're moving very quickly, but aren't you being a little too hasty? While I sincerely respect every choice He makes, our cooperation can be openly and honestly brought to the forefront. You know I can't offer Him any help, not even verbally, just as you can't directly help me."
"Is that person confident of taking the high ground?"
King George III of Loon skipped the pointless pleasantries and got straight to the point, passing the most important question to the still humble Viscount Hunter…or rather, the Duke of Zarathustra.
With a clean-shaven chin and neatly trimmed black hair, the banker faced the king's gaze with composure, his subtle fluctuations in emotion far less pronounced than his outward appearance suggested.
"Your Majesty, you jest. This is not a question that has no answer yet. I think our actions more than a decade ago can demonstrate the outcome of this matter. What do you think?"
More than a decade ago, it was the army of the Second Empire of Trensost that withstood the pressure from the countries of the Northern Continent and used an ingenious tactic to launch a three-front war in a very short time with astonishing efficiency, destroying the capital that the Highland Kingdom had been desperately holding on to.
"But things are different now… You should know this better than I do, Lord Hunter."
Clearly, George III was not fooled by Zarathustra's rhetoric; he was dissatisfied with the courtiers' flowery words.
"You were able to conquer the highlands last time because the highlands did not belong entirely to any country at that time, and because no royal family or true god was willing to spend the effort and absolute cost to deal with the intractable mess of the 'Bound God'."
"Everyone is waiting, just like at the end of the Fourth Epoch, waiting for someone to lose patience and wear down the Highlanders."
"What we didn't expect was that your operation would be so swift and effective, capturing the capital of the highlands before anyone could react."
"This proves that your worries about those trivial matters are unnecessary..."
Before Zarathustra could finish his explanation, the king on his chaise longue raised his left hand and ruthlessly interrupted his subjects below.
"You did conquer the Highland capital, but so what? In the end, the Highlands and Pass, the lands once ruled by the 'Rose School,' still belong to me, to Intis and Fussac."
"Indeed, that person has many angels under his throne, and you dare not wage war against them, who now sit above us on the Northern Continent, before the time is right, and anger the other players on the chessboard who have reached a consensus."
"Isn't it the same this time?"
"Or have you already seen the dawn of victory, seen other hopes?"
The "other hopes" that George III spoke of certainly did not refer to anything else, Zarathustra was quite aware of this, but was this something that could be said to outsiders?
Especially in countries under the watchful eye of a secretive empress, Zarathustra would not utter a single extra word.
He smiled as if to ease the conversation, trying to gloss over the sensitive topic, just as he often did around Russell.
"Your Majesty, you are in the prime of your life, unlike an old fellow like me. In my opinion, only the old Russell could rival your ambition…"
Seeing the complex expression on George III's face—not exactly pleased, but far from angry—Zarathustra changed the subject.
"However, an old guy like me still has some advantages."
"You may have forgotten some things about the second founding of Trensus. It wasn't a glorious history, and it was just a compromise that the Lord had no choice but to accept, so it's normal for you to overlook it occasionally."
"But think back to that time, when the great figures of the Northern Continent were unusually united, setting aside their hatred for each other, why did they still sit idly by and watch the Lord establish a kingdom in East Bailang?"
This question, without bias, struck at some details that George III had not considered, causing his judgment and doubts to waver.
Yes, why did the Seven Gods stop then and not press their advantage?
Stroking the armrest of the chaise lounge, George III took a few breaths, his gaze falling on the cracks in the floor tiles as he quietly pondered.
Zarathustra, however, remained in no hurry, maintaining a slightly bowed posture and patiently waiting to the side.
Fortunately, His Majesty the King quickly figured out the answer to the problem.
Ah, the power of the true Creator is evident to all. Killing Him would inevitably come at a price. It could be the life of a true god, or it could be some unlucky soul who is severely wounded and weakened, left to be slaughtered in the immediate post-war purge.
As for who the unlucky one is, that's another question.
A question whose definitive answer will never emerge until the battle is truly over.
Thinking of this, George III slowly nodded, acknowledging Zarathustra's statement, and Frederick Zarathustra, who had maintained his disguise, also silently breathed a sigh of relief.
He adjusted his posture, straightened his body, and tried to capture more details from the king's face and body language during the ensuing question and answer.
"Your Majesty, in fact, you have more initiative in the war over the highlands."
"oh?"
George III's interest was clearly piqued.
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