The clock tower's cast iron hands spun nearly madly in reverse. The Swaying Heart-Clock in Fran's breast pocket also seemed to resonate with it, beginning to run backward in the same rhythm.
As if rewinding time, everything returned to its undamaged state.
But the apocalypse and calamity had not subsided; the war of deities continued. This long-dead nation... had merely returned to the moment just before its demise.
"Returned to the most deeply imprinted moment..."
Fran clasped her hands behind her back, her amber eyes flickering slightly as she appreciatively observed the apocalyptic scene before her.
Haida stood beside her, holding up a large black straight-rib umbrella to block the incessant falling crimson rain.
Although the umbrella in the nun's hand was quite large, it barely covered three people and one deer, making it a bit crowded.
Sigrid peered out from under the umbrella's edge, gazing at the floating giant silhouettes above the storm, momentarily speechless.
She reached out a hand as if wanting to step out of the bubble Luyala had blown, to step into the rain and observe this scene, which seemed only to appear in mythical epics, more immersively.
Only after Fran rapped her knuckles on the back of Sigrid's head did she snap out of the overwhelming sense of shock.
"Ouch."
Sigrid hugged her head, then turned to look at Fran, who had knocked her.
"Sigrid, don't get too absorbed; it's easy to get lost in dreams. Guests in the audience can't just casually step onto the stage..."
"Besides, this is merely a manifestation of Grantham's consciousness; there won't be any true depictions of deities appearing."
Fran gently stroked her head, idly looking up into the high heavens.
"Starting off with such a heavyweight nightmare... it seems the White Cup's headmaster isn't sleeping well... Perhaps he has some psychological trauma or other."
Boom!
The sudden thunderclap was like the drum and horn before a war. Those massive beings circling beyond the heavens finally ceased their silence.
Their distant, hazy forms began to intertwine, each contact causing earth-shattering, heaven-inclining tremors.
Luyala pawed the ground with her hoof, shrinking closer to Fran's feet. But at the same time, a hint of eager excitement shone in her eyes.
As the grand destruction reached its climax, Luyala let out a long exhale, then took a deep breath.
"Hoo..."
The immense echoes of the deities and the dust haze shrouding the entire ruins dimmed in that instant, as if a part had been inhaled into Luyala's mouth.
Her originally somewhat slender abdomen swelled slightly as a result. Not exactly bloated, but indeed fuller.
Fran then reached out to gently stroke the fine fur on Luyala's belly, using her usual method of palpation to assess her feeding condition.
Ah, a digital exam would yield more precise conclusions, but obviously, this child wasn't too willing...
"Eating this full might cause bloating, you know? Are you feeling any discomfort now?"
"Na."
Luyala shook her head gently, her expression quite content.
"Good... then we should be going too."
Although they hadn't managed to glimpse more of the hidden history within Grantham's deep consciousness, this trip had yielded some gains. At least Luyala was fed...
And the changes just now might have alerted him. After all, this was someone else's dream; it wasn't wise to linger.
Fran lightly raised her index finger, her glossy nail flicking the bubble Luyala had exhaled. The translucent membrane instantly dissolved and shattered...
The figures of three people and one deer within the bubble also detached from Grantham's dream and vanished.
---
The next day, Grantham awoke from a deep sleep.
He rubbed the space between his eyebrows, feeling the heavy, gloomy thoughts in his mind inexplicably clear. The weariness from recently studying secret arts seemed greatly alleviated.
The improvement in mental state was to some extent reflected in his body.
Grantham even felt that his chronic old ailments had lessened considerably. He didn't feel the usual lower back pain and general aches upon waking.
How strange...
After pondering with slight confusion for a moment, he got up to make a cup of coffee.
---
Fog Street Clinic.
Fran reclined on the velvet sofa in the main hall, lazily yawning.
Last night, she took Luyala into Grantham's dream, originally intending to perform a deep mental examination on him.
This guy was a potential patient too, just with symptoms not as obvious as the Burial Court's Chief Hunter.
But in terms of danger level if he lost control, the two were probably not far apart.
As for why she wanted to glimpse the hidden history deep within his consciousness... that was just incidental, consider it the consultation fee.
It's just that the darkness in this old man's heart was far more sinister than anticipated, forcing Fran to abandon plans for deeper exploration. She didn't linger after Luyala finished foraging.
And yet, after merely swallowing a small portion of that nightmare echo, Luyala showed symptoms of indigestion today, only gradually improving after taking a dose of domperidone.
If her condition stabilizes, switching to digestive tablets would have a similar effect...
Since Luyala exists within the dream dimension, all the medicine she consumes is a manifestation of Fran's spirit in the dream, not actually depleting the Fog Street Clinic's stock... though it does slightly deplete the doctor.
Fran looked up, glancing at the calendar hanging on the wall.
January 25th. The first month was nearing its end.
February's eighth order hasn't arrived yet, otherwise yesterday's situation might have triggered a monthly house call.
But it's better that it didn't trigger; she preferred to begin treatment fully prepared... After all, Grantham wasn't at that critically ill stage requiring drastic measures; his course of treatment and suitable medication could be arranged more meticulously.
If the chronic illness in his spirit could be eradicated properly and without leaving hidden dangers, it would probably be an Apollyon-level completion.
Thinking of this, Fran suddenly remembered something else.
"Hmm... the White Cup's academic conference seems to be in early February."
She rummaged in her small medicine chest, then retrieved an exquisite invitation. Using a spiritbone lancet as a letter opener, she slit the sealing wax.
-
Dear Ms. Fran,
On behalf of Norlington Central Academy, I cordially invite you to attend this year's academic symposium in the second month. The conference will be held on February 1st at the Academy Council Hall.
Relevant topics include: 'Weapon-Forging Design,' 'Secret Art Solidification Studies,' 'Relic Studies,' 'Alchemy,' 'Mythical Natural History'...
You may freely choose which meetings and lectures to attend based on your interests and needs, with no sequential restrictions. Similarly, you may choose to participate anonymously; we will provide confidentiality services (the confidentiality agreement is attached to this letter).
May the thoughts of the Great Pioneer overflow within your heart.
— Terence Von.
-
Fran detached the attached confidentiality agreement from the letter, checked it to confirm it was correct, and then put it back.
"An invitation handwritten by Professor Terence... seems the White Cup scholars put quite some thought into it."
She raised a hand to lightly support her cheek, her amber eyes shifting slightly.
Helping to conceal identity, allowing one to decide whether to simply listen or present, and gifting a spirit-infused material as payment just for participating... Oh, the White Cup cult's attitude is so good it makes one suspect they might be a scam group...
"Fortunately, I prepared a suitable topic in advance... suitable for presenting some less important intermediate results."
In reality, Fran had already disseminated many modern medical concepts through Viola, who later became the Medicae Primus... This gave the Secrets-Hunter cult an immense, unattainable advantage in the medical field.
Simultaneously, it also made medical technology more universal, no longer a secret discipline difficult for ordinary people to access.
Therefore, to produce sufficiently shocking results at the academic symposium, she would have to draw from other aspects...
But she also needed to exercise appropriate restraint, not revealing anything too important.
Rashly spreading knowledge that could trigger a technological explosion was like handing the nuclear launch button to ancient people... the destructive consequences were almost predictable.
Even if, by a small probability, humanity didn't destroy itself, there was still the precedent of the Lost Age.
"Sigrid, please bring me that half-finished item from the bedroom."
Fran called out to the maid who was bent over a desk drawing weapon-forging designs.
"You mean that Stellar Abyss Society-style academic robe?"
Sigrid looked up, pondered briefly, then inquired.
"Exactly."
Following the light sound of footsteps echoing once on the wooden floor... a partially sewn academic robe was brought over by Sigrid.
A dark-patterned overcoat with white silk sleeves, this attire was almost identical to what Nikolas, the organizer of the Star Chart Research Society, wore. Such attire had no distinction between male and female styles; it just needed scaling according to body measurements.
"Hmm... final adjustments then. I'll wear this to the conference."
Fran pinched a strand of thread, moistened it lightly between her lips, threaded it through a needle's eye, and began neatening the stitches of this replica.
Indeed, self-made replicas like this just don't have the same sense of achievement as directly taking them from the person...
But at the time, the academic robe on Nikolas's body was completely soaked in plasma and severely damaged. Stripping it off would have made the perpetrator look like a pervert and served no other purpose...
Thus, she had to settle for the next best thing and make a replica herself.
Fortunately, the fabrics of the Stellar Abyss Society didn't possess mystical properties like the Lamp Moth's gauze robes; replicating them only required getting the style right.
Putting away the needle and thread, Fran changed into this researcher's attire full of Gormouth style.
She pulled up the hood, placed the silver-rimmed glasses she usually wore for lectures on the bridge of her nose, and then patted her cheeks.
After brief management of her expression, the seemingly eternal professional smile at the corner of her lips quietly faded.
Her originally cunning, inscrutable amber eyes now appeared clear and transparent, almost naive... like a young student unfamiliar with the ways of the world, full of bookishness.
"Sigrid, how is it? Any place that still needs modification?"
She asked for the opinion of the young lady beside her. The latter's lips parted slightly, a flash of surprise in her eyes.
Although it was just a change of clothes, the impression this doctor gave was completely different. Even the shyness and awkwardness in her tone felt so genuine, like an ordinary girl asking a stranger for directions.
"...It's perfect."
After a moment's consideration, Sigrid slowly gave her evaluation.
---
South District, Sunderland Street, Old Will's Bookstore.
It was the New Year period, and business at the bookstore had been good lately, allowing Old Will to stop worrying about his grandson's tuition for the next school year.
He was wrapped in a thick black woolen cloak, the charcoal in the brazier beside him occasionally crackling softly.
However, something had happened recently that worried him somewhat.
Besides attending classes at Norlington Central Academy, his grandson secretly worked part-time as a bartender at the 'Mandala' tavern in the evenings to help with household expenses. And that tavern had recently been the scene of a very gruesome murder...
Although the boy hadn't witnessed anything, he seemed to have gotten a bit of a scare and had now stopped the part-time job.
At any rate, he finally listened to advice.
Vivian was currently in a corner of the bookstore, quietly flipping through a book amidst the crowd.
If Haida were here to see this, even she might be surprised... because this Confidential Division agent with rather unique tastes was currently holding The Monroe Epic.
This was an esoteric Attilan myth.
Many of its obscure parables contained clues to hidden history, making it almost required reading for studying the ancient history of the Sand-Flow Nation... any cryptologist inevitably had to engage with it, differing only in depth of understanding.
Vivian slowly and meticulously scanned each line on the page, her eyes occasionally and covertly glancing towards two people by a distant bookshelf.
A tall, gaunt, resolute middle-aged man, and a youth whose eyes held a hint of impatience.
They were the two "Children of the Whiskered Tree," Neville and Albert, who had fallen completely silent since arriving in Norlington.
Although this secretive cult had previously adhered to absolute neutrality, until their ultimate goal was revealed, whether they harbored ill intentions remained unknown... appropriate surveillance was essential.
Just as Vivian was maintaining her surveillance while concealing her presence, a girl in a dark-patterned overcoat slowly walked over.
She wore silver round-framed glasses, her expression a mix of curiosity and shyness, probably looking for a book that caught her fancy.
After lingering near the bookshelf where Vivian was for a long time, as if mustering courage, she finally spoke softly.
"...Um, Miss, do you also like reading The Monroe Epic?"
Her voice was as faint as a mosquito's hum, but her enunciation was clear.
Vivian was initially puzzled as to why this girl was talking to her, even instinctively disengaging the safety on the compact pistol in her sleeve. Then she realized that there was only one open copy of The Monroe Epic in the bookstore... the other person probably wanted to read it too.
"You can read it first. I've already finished it. I can switch to another one."
+++
T/N: Hey readers~! New Translator here! Before I say anything, I'd first like to thank the original author for creating this wonderful story. Without them, I wouldn't have the chance to share this adventure with you. I hope my translation does justice to their work, and that together, we can enjoy this story.
With that said, I'm happy to let you know I'll be uploading daily chapters. And for those who wish to support my work and gain early access, I've set up a Patreon where advanced chapters will be available.
[email protected]/PeakTL