Leonard, who had been busy all day, finally found a chance to ask his question: "Old man, what is the 'Sefirah Castle'?"
The somewhat old voice in his head was silent for a few seconds, then let out a 'heh' and said: "The place where you have your weekly gathering every Monday is most likely the 'Sefirah Castle'."
"..." Leonard had never expected to hear such an answer. His mind went blank for a moment, a mix of surprise, shock, and the complex emotions of 'I knew it couldn't be simple' and 'so that's how it is' flooding him.
After a while, he asked in a low, somewhat hurried voice: "Then what exactly is the 'Sefirah Castle'?"
Palleas
"Actually, I don't really know much. I've only heard some rumors.
"It's different from the creation myths you know. The rumors say that the original Creator left behind nine different things. Some were kingdoms, some were cities, some were rivers, some were seas, and some were keys. The 'Sefirah Castle' is one of them.
"It might not actually be a castle, but some other form. You might know what it actually looks like better than I do.
"The reason I'm certain it exists is that when I advanced to an Angel, I sensed it, but I couldn't glimpse it or establish a connection with it.
"My great-grandfather once proposed a guess, saying that those nine things might be related to the 'Primordial Essences' recorded on the second 'Blasphemy Slate'. Unfortunately, due to various reasons, the content he saw was limited, and he couldn't decipher the parts related to the 'Primordial Essences'."
Leonard calmed down considerably. He leaned back into the sofa and asked thoughtfully: "Old man, do you suspect that Mr. Fool is an incarnation of the 'Primordial Essence'?"
Based on what he had seen and heard at the
Palleas Zoroast was silent for a long time before finally replying: "Perhaps..."
On a night when the curfew was strictly enforced, there were almost no pedestrians on the streets of Backlund. Occasionally a carriage passed by, carrying someone of sufficient status.
Upon arriving at the agreed-upon house, Klein didn't immediately enter. Half closing his eyes, he raised his right hand and grabbed at the air in front of him, pulling out another Sherlock Moriarty dressed in a black double-breasted woolen coat, a semi-high silk top hat, and carrying a gold-inlaid cane.
This was him from when he left the house, a projection from a historical gap.
Because Klein himself was standing opposite, this projection was stiff and rigid, like a stage prop.
Based on previous experiments, Klein knew this was the mystical "principle of unique time and consciousness." In other words, at the same point in time, each person's essence was unique. If the main body could think, the projection couldn't.
The same applied to projections of the deceased summoned from historical gaps. Klein suspected it was because his current level wasn't sufficient. In any case, projections of others could only make mechanical conversations and conduct instinctive combat. Things that the 'Ancient Scholar' didn't know, they couldn't provide answers for, even if they had personally experienced them.
This confirmed one of Klein's guesses: the fragments an 'Ancient Scholar' could see in the fog of history were all things they had learned about or researched in reality. Simply put, the Ancient Scholar had to light up the fog piece by piece.
Of course, Klein also suspected that if most of the historical fragments of a single event had already been lit, the rest might naturally reveal themselves.
"At least the corresponding ability won't be lacking just because I don't fully understand it. As long as an image exists in the historical gap, the state at that moment is completely recorded… That's enough…" Klein glanced at his historically projected shadow, which could only act on instinct, and suddenly vanished, entering the grayish-white fog.
Since Flogen's Hound, which wasn't a complete 'Ancient Scholar', could live in the historical gaps, a true 'Ancient Scholar' had no reason not to be able to. The only problem was the time limit. Furthermore, if time dragged on, the puppet in the real world would surely die. However, that was just a different way of accompanying the 'Ancient Scholar'.
As Klein's main body entered the speck of light within the grayish-white fog, his consciousness suddenly came alive within the historical projection.
Raising his hand to adjust his top hat, Klein in the guise of Sherlock Moriarty walked up to the house and, as arranged, directly took out the "Universal Key," pressed it against the door, and turned it gently.
His figure directly materialized inside the house. Taking advantage of the crimson moonlight, he quickly looked around.
The sofa, cabinet, high-backed chairs, coffee table, and other furniture here were clearly quite old, seemingly from the previous century, looking rather worn.
In the dim environment,
"Good evening," this 'Puppet' miss said with a slight nod in greeting.
If she didn't speak or open her mouth, she would be the most standard and exquisite doll.
At the same time,
… Mister, winter has arrived. Aren't you cold wearing just that? Ah, right, you're a 'Corpse,' 'Corpses' aren't afraid of the cold… Klein complained internally. He took off his hat and bowed to Sharon, who had light blonde hair, blue eyes, and a pale face.
"Good evening, Miss Sharon."
He then half-turned to Maric and said: "Good evening."
Klein's strongest impression of this former 'Living Corpse,' now a 'Wraith,' was that he actually played cards with the living corpses he himself commanded.
"We should play cards together sometime…" He let out a silent sigh.