Chapter 696 - Chapter 696: Feathers
Chapter 696: Feathers
Translator: CKtalon
In Twanaku’s house in Tizamo Town, Amandina woke up amidst the violent shaking of the building.
She stood up groggily and looked out the window. The sky had turned gray and was pressing down, completely obscuring the crimson moon and stars.
In the near-absolute darkness, Amandina turned and cast her gaze not far away. Dressed neatly, Robert rose slowly, his sluggish movements suggesting he was struggling to adapt to the lightless environment.
When the tremors in the ground and buildings finally ceased, Robert used his Spirit Vision to spot Amandina. After a moment’s hesitation, he asked, “Are we awake?”
He recalled that before entering the Dream Festival, he and Amandina had used a date as an excuse to rendezvous. When they ended up in the special dream, they temporarily parted ways—one stayed put while the other went to Saint-Sien Cathedral.
Glancing at the suddenly noisy street outside, Amandina thought for a few seconds before replying, “Probably… but I don’t know what’s going on.”
As Robert recalled the dream encounters, both fell silent. Eventually, he asked in a deep voice, “What happened to you in the end?”
Amandina suddenly chuckled. “Nothing much.”
Robert closed his mouth again. With her night vision, Amandina looked at him, smiling with mixed emotions. “Is there anything else you want to ask?”
After a long pause, Robert said, “What did you experience afterward?”
Taking in the silence of the house, Amandina finally whispered, “1 saw the one who granted me powers.”
“The one who granted you powers?” Robert asked, surprised.
Amandina laughed. “We didn’t actually fall asleep after touching the black ancient tomb. We only truly fainted after receiving the powers.”
“How is that possible…” Robert looked incredulous.
Amandina didn’t try to convince him. Instead, she muttered, “Upon acquiring superpowers, one immediately falls into a coma or slumber. When they wake up, they completely grasp that power. Their spirit and flesh undergo a certain transformation…
“Is this considered a low-level death before rebirth?”
“What are you talking about?” Robert’s confusion grew.
It was completely incomprehensible!
Amandina’s eyes darted around as she smiled.
“That person told me. Perhaps it’s a form of guidance.”
“Guidance…” Using his Spirit Vision, the only way to ascertain her condition in the darkness, Robert gazed at Amandina.
He felt his fiancee was different, as if she had grown up overnight.
Amandina wanted to recount the encounter in detail as usual, but swallowed her words.
Sighing, she said, “Aren’t you going to check on Padre Cali? He might not have long to live.”
Snapping out of his reverie, Robert blurted out, “He fled to the ancient tomb and was killed?”
“He’s indeed dead,” Amandina confirmed.
Robert’s expression shifted, but he didn’t inquire about the murderer’s identity. After a moment’s thought, Amandina said, “Before you go to Padre Cali, I need to tell you something.
“The desire you felt when you first faced him didn’t come from your heart. He prayed to a Demon through a ritual and obtained the power to influence you.”
Robert’s eyes widened, his mouth gaped, but no sound came out.
Without further ado, Amandina strode past him towards the staircase.
Pressing down on the railing, she paused and tersely acknowledged, “Let’s find an excuse to annul the engagement. I can accept other things about you, but 1 can’t accept how my fiance allowed me to follow Louis Berry alone to find the black ancient tomb under those circumstances.
“Don’t worry, 1 won’t tell anyone about your matters. Those who knew in my dream won’t tell either.”
Robert spun around, his gaze fixed on the staircase as Amandina descended step by step, the darkness engulfing her spirituality’s light.
Leaving Twanaku’s house, Amandina stepped onto the street.
She glanced at the dark, low sky, the sporadic lights on both sides, and caught a whiff of the dusty air.
With her hand covering her nose, Amandina made her way towards the manor, her steps gradually quickening.
On the third floor of the police headquarters in Tizamo Town, just as Camus felt Kolobo’s trembling subside, as if he had composed himself, painful curses echoed from the next room.
His heart stirred as he lit a candle and pushed open the slightly deformed wooden door. Inside, he saw the Feysacian, Loban, lying on the ground, clutching his knee and screaming in agony.
The member of the Tizamo patrol team had woken from the earthquake-like commotion and tried to get out of bed to find cover, but one leg strangely lost strength, accompanied by intense pain, causing him to collapse.
Before Camus could organize his thoughts, Rhea’s voice echoed beside him.
“Don’t worry. It’s the mass hysteria mentioned in the investigations. You’ll recover after going to the corresponding Mass.”
Having cooperated with Camus to investigate the abnormalities in Tizamo, Loban quickly understood Rhea.
Cursing, he struggled to his feet, retrieved a military flask from under his pillow, and downed a few gulps of liquor.
After drinking until color returned to his face, Loban sighed with relief.
“I feel my knee has recovered a little. Sometimes, alcohol is more useful than Mass!”
Breathing a sigh of relief, Camus turned to Rhea, realizing his teammate’s expression had turned colder.
After what just happened, her dream projection has completely vanished. Have the emotions and desires returned to her body? Will the special dreamscape still exist, and will there be a Dream Festival next year? Camus instantly made many connections.
At that moment, Rhea said to him, “Let’s go out and see if we can save some people. Those who died during the Dream Festival shouldn’t be the only ones injured.”
Taken aback, Camus replied, “Okay.”
Joy welled up in his heart, sensing Rhea hadn’t undergone any fundamental changes due to the return of her emotions and desires.
Following the Brieu Motel owner’s instructions, Lumian arrived on the fourth floor and opened the corresponding room’s wooden door.
The near pitch-black darkness receded under a blazing white fireball’s illumination, revealing everything to Lumian.
Some items had fallen due to the tremors, tables and chairs had shifted, and a small amount of dust had sprinkled from the ceiling. The window was tightly shut, but the glass had shattered. Apart from this, there was nothing noteworthy, and no sign of humans.
Scanning the area, Lumian found no trace of the man or woman.
Frowning, he muttered to himself, According to the original Dream Festival’s rules, death in a dream doesn’t equate to immediate death. Did they leave Tizamo after waking up? 1 planned to take care of their corpses and inherit their Beyonder characteristics…
Lumian didn’t believe the man and woman couldn’t leave just because the door and window were tightly shut. After all, they were two Mid-Sequence Beyonders, and one was even a Devil. Perhaps they had special abilities to resolve that problem.
As Lumian contemplated searching for traces and chasing after them to eliminate the deceased on behalf of the Dream Festival, he casually examined the room’s various details. Suddenly, his pupils dilated, and his eyes froze.
He saw a feather lying quietly under the recliner by the window—a white feather stained with light-yellow oil!
Lumian’s scalp tingled as he silently took two steps back into the corridor.
Like Reaza, were the man and woman already dead and had undergone an abnormality?
What about their corpses?
Disappeared?
Would humans who had ascended to godhood exhibit different behaviors after leaving the Dream Festival?
With a blazing white fireball floating behind him, Lumian scrutinized the room, filled with questions. Perhaps the man and woman’s “corpses” were still here, but he couldn’t see them.
Cautiously entering, he approached the recliner, sensing nothing unusual and discovering no signs of the formless object. Lumian retrieved the Mystery Prying Glasses and the Eye of Truth from his Traveler’s Bag, donning them one by one.
He still couldn’t see the man and woman. His vision was filled with chaotic darkness, a dark river, oily feathers, and imprisoning darkness.
Upon returning to reality, did they immediately undergo immortal ascension and leave this place? Lumian pondered for a few seconds before activating the black mark on his right shoulder, teleporting to a spot in the forest at the special dream’s periphery.
As a Hunter, Lumian had memorized the correct route and environmental characteristics after Amandina led him to the black ancient tomb. After nearly fifteen minutes, he arrived at an area where numerous tree roots protruded from the ground, resembling blood vessels.
However, the place where the black stone-like ancient tomb should have stood was empty.
Does that black ancient tomb only exist in dreams and can’t be encountered in reality? Lumian speculated seriously. So the Pale Empress and the other Angels can’t descend personally and can only send people to participate in the Dream Festival?
As his thoughts raced, Lumian’s gaze darted back and forth across the land corresponding to the black ancient tomb. It was indeed a little different from its surroundings—no intertwined tree roots protruded from the ground, and it was flat and stoneless.
Approaching thoughtfully, Lumian took out his straight sword and used it as a shovel, attempting to dig into the soil. Just as he dug a small pit, his eyelids twitched.
Buried in the dark brown soil were two white feathers stained with light-yellow oil!
Taking a slow breath, Lumian dug deeper.
Before long, a palm-sized, dark, slightly moist, and sticky soil lump came into view..