Chapter 1144: A Logical Development

"I can only maintain it for a little over a minute... that's way too short..." The thought flashed through Klein's mind, and he didn't have time to consider anything else. Two quick steps brought him to the desk.

He set down *Groselle's Travels*, picked up "0-08," and began writing rapidly on a blank sheet of white paper: "King George III intends to use this speech to lure out all the enemies who wish to disrupt his ritual. However, if everything goes smoothly and nothing unexpected occurs, he will take the opportunity to consume his potion, reveal his trump card, and attempt to ascend to the divine rank. After all, there are too many unknowns in the future, and relying solely on his current preparations would not be safe either. His present preparations are already thorough and sufficient.

"This is a very logical development."

Before Klein had a chance to carefully review what he'd written for errors, the slightly faded quill in his hand silently vanished, as though it had never arrived, never existed.

Yet those few short sentences had seemingly drained Klein's energy. A faint wave of dizziness swept through his head, forcing him to stumble back several steps and collapse into his chair.

"That doesn't make sense... I don't remember Ince Zangwill ever being that exhausted or struggling that much... Ah, it must be because I forcibly summoned it and didn't dare let '0-08' weave the story on its own. I had to sustain all the writing with my own spirituality, while Ince Zangwill could receive '0-08's cooperation, so the drain wouldn't be nearly as severe..." Klein closed his eyes and meditated for a while, finally recovering.

Under normal circumstances, having never had physical contact with "0-08" and only seeing it once, there was no way he could have summoned this Grade "0" sealed artefact. However, on one hand, he had been personally blessed with luck by the Snake of Fate, and on the other, he possessed *Groselle's Travels*—an item left behind by Antigonus, the Dragon of Imagination. Hidden within it was the City of Miracles, Livehid, which shared some deep connection with "0-08." If not for interference by certain high-ranking existences, these two items would have met long ago.

Klein wasn't sure whether this connection in fate and characteristics could actually increase the probability of a successful summon. He had simply thought there was no harm in trying, and it had actually worked.

Precisely because of this, he didn't dare use *Groselle's Travels* to carry the projection of what "0-08" wrote. He didn't even dare let them get close, fearing some uncontrollable, catastrophic accident.

This was Backlund, after all—an area of extremely high population density!

"Well, logically speaking, there shouldn't be any accident. '0-08' is merely an image from the Historia—a fake. *Groselle's Travels* was materialized by the Dragon of Imagination, which is also a fake. Fakes combined with fakes can't produce anything real—they lack the material foundation of a Beyonder characteristic... I could test it later on an uninhabited rocky island..." Klein rubbed his temples, stood up, returned to the desk, and examined the text he had just written.

He hadn't directly written that King George III would fail his advancement and fall on the spot, because he believed that "0-08," as only a projection, couldn't directly interfere with a Sequence 1 Angel. It had to be more subtle.

Moreover, across from them there were the Psychology Alchemists, and Amon's brother. Any overt influence would certainly be detected and potentially exploited. Klein had to be indirect, focusing on reducing unknowns.

"Hopefully it works..." After staring at it for a while, Klein folded the paper and tucked it into his pocket.

Then he offered *Groselle's Travels* back up to above the Gray Fog.

With those tasks completed, Klein began considering another matter: when to go out and buy ice cream for Will Auceptin.

"Backlund has Zaratul, and very likely Amon too. Going out too often risks running into them on the spot—that's dangerous... What if I summon ice cream from the Historia for Will? It tastes completely real when you eat it, but vanishes after fifteen minutes. Absolutely no risk of gaining weight—it's practically perfect..." Klein couldn't help grumbling to himself.

In the end, he still decided to change his clothes and head out, because a man had to keep his promises!

…………

Saturday morning. The sky was gray and overcast, draped in fog, filling one with an inexplicable sense of oppression.

This was a common sight in Backlund during deep winter. Though it wasn't as bad as the previous year—with its thick, acrid smog—the local geography and climate ensured that such conditions would persist for a long time to come. After all, treating atmospheric pollution was never something that could be declared successful in just a year or two.

Melissa draped a black wool coat that fell past her knees over her long dress, put on a hat with fine black veil hanging down, and walked briskly toward the door.

Benson, holding his top hat, shook his head upon seeing this and said: "Girls under twenty should dress under twenty, not so mature and stuffy, understand? Stuffy."

Melissa glanced at her brother and replied simply: "The price of bread has gone up another quarter penny per pound."

"Prices..." Benson clicked his tongue in amazement.

He then took out his silver pocket watch, its surface covered in vine-like patterns, snapped it open, and glanced at the time: "Let's go. It's still a long way to City Hall Square."

Melissa gave a soft "Mm" and left the house with her brother, stepping onto the street.

"Good morning, Mrs. Daniels." After a few steps, Benson saw a neighbor leaving her home and greeted her with a smile.

He was good at socializing and had long established decent relationships with the surrounding neighbors.

The lady addressed as Mrs. Daniels was dressed in an entirely black dress. In her forties, she had a gaunt face covered by the fine black veil hanging from her hat. Upon hearing the greeting, she simply nodded and replied briefly: "Good morning, you two."

She made no small talk and walked off coldly on her own.

Benson watched her retreating back and deliberately slowed his pace. Once they had put some distance between them, he turned his head to ask his sister: "What happened to Mrs. Daniels?