Watching the paper figurine avatar merge into the shadows in the distance, the Prophet Clone turned and walked back to the desk against the wall.
He skillfully rummaged through the drawer for candles, essential oils, and other items needed for the ritual, then began setting up the ritual of supplication.
As soon as the ritual was completed, Klein responded from above the Gray Fog, sending down a stack of pre-cut paper figurines, a dark bronze lantern, a painting that looked like a child's random scribbles, and a golden metal Rubik's Cube.
With the appearance of these items, the room's temperature rapidly rose, instantly transforming from early spring to scorching summer.
The dim yellow gas wall lamp also brightened, becoming more like a bright yellow furnace, radiating light and heat.
The Prophet Clone lowered his head, felt the temperature in the room, and the lingering Sun aura, then murmured in a low voice:
"This container won't last much longer; the Lightseeker Beyonder characteristic is truly troublesome to store."
As he spoke, he summoned an invisible hand to pick up the metal Rubik's Cube from the ground.
The moment he took it, it felt like holding a burning flame; the skin on his palm quickly dried, reddened, and gradually showed signs of charring.
Enduring the scorching heat in his hand, the pale blue glow in the Prophet Clone's eyes flowed continuously, and specks of bronze light rapidly moved around him, outlining strange symbols in the air, which gradually merged into the faintly golden metal Rubik's Cube in his hand.
The Rubik's Cube's temperature gradually dropped, and the numerous symbolic characters and magical markings inscribed on its surface, which had reflected brilliant golden sunlight, rapidly dimmed, changing from golden yellow to a bronze color with hints of rust.
Placing the Rubik's Cube into his coat pocket, he bent down again to pick up the painting that looked like random scribbles, still on the ground, and looked at Klein, who had already left the Gray Fog, saying:
"You can prepare to run now.
I just used paper figurines to lure away a few people who were approaching, but they'll react very quickly."
"Have your Marionette Kircheis carry this lantern.
As it is essentially a corpse, it can avoid the negative effects.
As long as you are within the range of the lantern's light, you should be able to distort or confuse the attacked target through the connection between yourself and your Marionette Kircheis."
"Alright."
Klein did not refuse.
After nodding, he immediately had his Marionette Kircheis pick up the dark bronze lantern and the stack of pre-cut paper figurines that were still on the ground.
He quickly tidied up the room, erasing any traces he left behind, then pulled out a paper figurine from inside his coat and shook it open.
It spontaneously combusted in mid-air, turning into a wisp of ash, which was blown out of the half-open window by the spiritual wind.
These paper figurines, which he had placed above the Gray Fog and imbued with its aura, would have a better anti-divination effect.
Having done all this, he lightly nodded towards the Prophet Clone, who was leaning against the wall, still twirling the rolled-up painting in his hand, and asked:
"Which way is safer for me to run now?"
"Into the city, towards the church..." the Prophet Clone nodded gently.
As he spoke, he turned around, placed his right hand on the wall, and a pale blue glow rippled like water beneath his palm, continuously spreading outwards, instantly forming a translucent pale blue "Door."
Pointing to the "Door" that had opened on the wall, he chuckled and said:
"Good luck to you.
I'll catch up with you once you've escaped the city."
Klein nodded lightly, not asking what he intended to do by staying there, and directly passed through the "Door" on the wall with his Marionette Kircheis, leaving the hotel.
Watching Klein leave, the Prophet Clone sat back down at the small round table by the window, then suddenly snapped his fingers, and the Wall of Spirituality enveloping the hotel room instantly vanished.
Next, he took out several folded paper figurines from his overcoat pocket and casually tossed them out the window.
With a sudden gust of wind, these pale yellow paper figurines were carried and flown to various locations on the street.
Having done all this, he unfolded the painting that looked like a child's random scribbles on the tabletop.
He gently rubbed his fingers, creating specks of bronze-colored light dust that fell onto the painting.
The haphazardly distributed colors on it suddenly seemed to come alive, slowly flowing across the paper.
Whoosh~
A chilling wind suddenly swept through the quiet room.
Under the dim yellow gas wall lamp, a figure suddenly appeared in the full-length mirror in the corner.
His figure was ethereal and elusive, like a bodiless phantom, easily detaching from the mirror and appearing in the hotel room.
He wore a black tailcoat, had sunken eye sockets, and a frighteningly pale complexion.
He looked to be in his thirties, with neatly parted light brown hair, and eyes that were black with hints of green, containing an uncontrollable madness.
He lowered his head to look at the strange little figure he held in his hand, then his gaze, filled with confusion, swept around the room, completely ignoring the figure sitting at the round table.
The Prophet Clone remained seated in a relaxed posture on the wooden chair, his voice calm, almost like a warning, as he spoke:
"A Wraith?"
"Do you know that it's impolite to just barge into someone else's room?"
Hearing his words, the other party finally turned his gaze to him, his eyes filled with surging, unconcealed malice, and he spoke in a low voice:
"Are you the only one in this room?"
"Of course not, there's also a lost Beyonder characteristic..." the Prophet Clone chuckled.
Pale blue light flowed in his eyes, outlining one strange symbol after another in his pupils, appearing cold and rational.
At this moment, his emotions and desires were suppressed to the extreme, and his entire being entered a state of absolute rationality.
At the same time, the Wraith who had suddenly intruded became transparent and ethereal.
Centered around him, an inexplicable chilling wind, originating from who knows where, suddenly swept through the room.
White frost, tainted with the aura of death, rapidly covered the entire room, and beautiful, dreamy snowflakes floated in the air.
The sudden drop in temperature made one's hair stand on end, causing an uncontrollable shiver throughout the body.
The next moment, all the frost and snowflakes in the room vanished, turning into a puddle of colorful paint dripping onto the ground.
"Heh, if you can't immediately summon a demigod to save you, then I'll take the Wraith Beyonder characteristic from you."
The Prophet Clone leaned back against the chair, grey-white three-dimensional symbols floating in his eyes, making his voice extremely infectious, unconsciously provoking anger and impulsiveness.
Seemingly provoked into anger, the Wraith opposite suddenly took a step forward, and his body completely disappeared, becoming transparent.
The next moment, two figures, wearing black tailcoats, with sunken eye sockets and frighteningly pale complexions, suddenly appeared in each of the Prophet Clone's pupils.
His body became somewhat stiff at this moment, as if he had suddenly been thrown into a block of extremely cold ice, making it difficult for his body to perform effective movements.
This state did not last too long.
He gently rubbed his fingers twice, creating specks of bright yellow light that scattered over him.
The next moment, his body thinned, became brittle, and transformed into a crudely cut pale yellow paper figurine, which spontaneously ignited with golden flames imbued with the aura of the Sun.
Within the golden flames, a transparent, ethereal figure suddenly emerged.
His body melted like a candle, dripping transparent liquid onto the ground.
The intense burning sensation made him let out screams, his voice extremely sharp, as if it could pierce eardrums and harm spirits.
The glow flowing in the eyes of the Prophet Clone, who had appeared in the corner of the room, suddenly deepened.
Specks of bronze light converged and moved in front of him, outlining a balance-like pattern, radiating an awe that made people feel an empty dread and an irresistible urge to prostrate themselves.
At the same time, his voice, filled with an indescribable sense of authority, spoke:
"Wraith shrieks are forbidden here!"
The shriek that had just echoed in the room suddenly vanished, as if it had been transferred to another dimension; there was no longer any sound in the room.
The Wraith, still being painfully burned in the golden "Light of Fire..." continued to make the motion of screaming with an open mouth, but could not produce any sound.
The Prophet Clone stood calmly in place, continuing to chant in a very authoritative voice:
"Wraith shadows are forbidden here!"
In the center of the room, the Wraith, whose body was covered in translucent white frost, suddenly froze.
His aura became weak and continued to decline, and his already pale and ethereal figure became even more transparent, as if he could disappear at any moment.
The Prophet Clone watched the other party intently, leaning forward, clenching his right fist, and as he swung his arm, he chanted in a low voice in Dragonese:
"Death!"
A afterimage rushed out of his body with the swing of his fist, like an executioner of death, striking the Wraith in the center of the room with an irresistible and unavoidable posture.
The weakened Wraith had not yet reacted when the afterimage, swinging its fist, struck him.
The transparent, ethereal Wraith's body cracked inch by inch from the heart, shattering into pieces of red scales composed of deep red moonlight.
At the same time, a deep red moonlight appeared at the window of the room and quickly reassembled the Wraith's body.
The Prophet Clone's hand movements did not stop.
Specks of bright yellow light gathered in his hand, blooming into clear and pure sunlight, gradually condensing into the shape of a spear.
Pfft!
The next moment, the hotel room was like a piece of paper that had been poked through from the outside; a pair of broad, brown-skinned, heavily furrowed hands reached in from outside, grabbed the Wraith's shoulders, and dragged him out.
"No wonder he dared to be so arrogant; turns out there really was a demigod following him!"
The Prophet Clone exclaimed, as if completely unaware.
The ceiling, walls, and floor of the hotel room… all began to melt.
Colorful and rich pigments flowed everywhere, spontaneously converging on the small round table by the window, forming a painting that looked like random scribbles.
As the pigments melted, the overlapped space in the hotel room returned to normal.
Mr. Wraith, who had just been dragged out of the "room" by the suddenly appearing hands, and the owner of those hands, appeared before the Prophet Clone.
It was an old man with brownish-black skin.
The wrinkles on his face formed deep furrows, and his sparse white hair was like autumn leaves, as if he had lived for many, many years, his entire being permeated with the scent of decay.
The Prophet Clone calmly observed the demigod who had appeared before him, and the light accumulating in his right hand became even brighter.
He chuckled at the two serious figures before him and said:
"Rose School of Thought?
This is Bayam, the capital of the Rorsted Archipelago; aren't your actions a bit too presumptuous?"
"At sea, a Disciple of Silence in the same Sequence cannot defeat a Sea King."
As he spoke, he squeezed his right hand.
Crash!
With a crisp shattering sound, the spear that had just condensed in his hand instantly disintegrated into a pure, blazing sunlight.
This light spread outwards like a tide, layer upon layer, dyeing everything around it golden, illuminating every corner, purifying all filth, Darkness, and Fallen, leaving not a trace of Darkness, not a single shadow.
As soon as this light appeared, a sizzling sound echoed in the air.
The two members of the Rose School of Thought, who hadn't managed to escape the light's embrace in time, simultaneously began to emit wisps of green smoke.
The light came quickly and left quickly, lasting only a second or two, and then the surroundings returned to the quiet, cool night.
Whoosh~
In mid-air, the wind suddenly intensified, and a figure, carried by the strong winds, sped from the distance.
The Wraith, who had returned to his flesh-and-blood form, looked uneasily at the old man beside him, his voice somewhat hoarse:
"Master Jax…"