Wearing a thicker jacket, Klein stood behind the desk, looking at the glass window in front of him, carefully sensing the rate at which the Faceless potion was being digested.
"It's really fast, more than the sum of the digestion in the previous three months... But there's no way around it. Before I got the Staff of Life, I couldn't provide sufficient treatment, and I had to consider whether the hearts of those I startled could take it, so there was no way for me to go to a hospital and create an urban legend...
"Similarly, if it weren't for the outbreak of war, finding another demigod would have been quite difficult. Those whose whereabouts could be determined were mostly on their own turf. To infiltrate quietly and create a sense of eerie horror, I would have had to turn innocent people into puppets. Even if there were no other choice, I wouldn't have considered it..." Klein shifted his attention away from himself and silently sighed a few times.
He then repeated a word in his heart: "War..."
At this time, the distant streetlights still cast a glow, but the East Borough was already pitch black, only occasionally a patrol policeman carrying a lantern could be seen passing by.
Ordinarily, these policemen wouldn't be so diligent, but now because of the war, corresponding bans had to be enforced to ensure public order.
"War..." Klein softly repeated the word again, and in a daze he could already see part of the outcome: King George III of Loen had finally broken free of his shackles, no longer worried that any of the Seven
Amidst his floating thoughts, a question suddenly burst out in Klein's heart: "This outcome, do you accept it?"
"This outcome, do you accept it..." Klein opened his mouth, then slowly closed it. Everything before his eyes seemed to pierce through the limits of time and distance, returning to the past, returning to another place: It was the Great Smog that permeated all of Backlund, pale yellow with a hint of iron black, extremely dense, slightly pungent and choking, cold and damp; It was a homeless man who, under the blows of disease, hunger, pain, and cold, was slowly approaching death, yet struggling desperately to survive. For some food, for a little pay, he squeezed himself dry, not daring to be lazy, finally saw a glimmer of life's light, bought the ham he had longed for, but in that hazy, blurred smog, he collapsed and never got up again; It was a hardworking, suffering widow. To survive, to protect her two children, she abandoned all dignity, became fierce and vulgar, with foul language, with day after day of dampness and joint pain, she held up a roof that could shelter them from the wind and rain. But in that Great Smog, that roof collapsed, and the child she desperately tried to protect died in her arms; It was a girl who longed to study, dreamed of a beautiful future, loved her mother and younger sister. She worked in a room filled with steam, always carrying a small hope. Yet, after the Great Smog struck, she could never see the future she yearned for; It was a girl who studied hard under the care of her mother and sister, experienced too much suffering, step by step emerged from difficulties, had hope to make herself better, to make her mother and sister no longer so tired, to make their little family of three live the life they imagined. But all of this was finally shattered. In that terrible smog, this girl was left all alone. No matter how much pain or joy, she could no longer share it with her mother and sister. That imagined family life, before it even appeared, would never be; It were beings that fell like straw stalks, family after family, person after person, a pain that could never be erased, etched into the bone marrow; It was a student who clearly had a bright future, but now had only half a body, his intestines spilling on the ground; It was a child who, coming home from school, suddenly found that she had lost both parents and had become an orphan in an instant; It was an ordinary person writhing in pain, crawling with difficulty, wanting to get closer to the future, but unable to take the last breath; It were the people in the cemetery, silent to the point of heartache, crying until they fainted several times; It was the earth stained with blood; It was the sky filled with gunpowder smoke; It were the ruthless shells.
And the mastermind behind all this, the greatest murderer, would ascend the throne of god step by step on stairs piled with layers of corpses, receive cheers, and escape aging.
Such a development, do you accept it?
Such an arrangement, do you accept it?
Such an outcome, do you accept it?
"No, I don't accept." Klein was silent for a moment, then suddenly spoke, his voice low.