788 Entrusting and Scheming (2/2)
In the praying room of the Saint Geno Church…
”Saint” Clement was repenting before the cross quietly. Last time, he went to the Chaotic Cosmos to take the Time Plate under the instruction of Mecantron, only to run into Lucien and almost get consumed by the high-energy storm created by the Positron Cannon. Thankfully, the Lord of Hell, who had been conspiring with him, saved him from the disaster. He was terrified for a long time after he learned from the Lord of Hell that even Mecantron was almost killed.
Unlike Mecantron, who was a container that The Angel King prepared for himself and who would be reborn in the light of the Lord as long as Mountain Paradise existed, he would've been completely killed if he had been touched by Lucien's terrifying legendary spell!
He learned the truth of Mecantron's resurrection from the Lord of Hell.
”I have gathered almost enough 'Power of Virtues', but I still need a 'container'…” The Book of Virtues, which Clement acquired from the Angel King, replaced the power of negative feelings with positive symbols such as honesty, so there were not as many problems. He did not need to capture another legend as his container and could use the utensils made of special materials.
Those were the two branches that Thanos and Viken created while they perfected the path to the demigod level. The difference was because Thanos started from scratch and was, therefore, not restrained by negative feelings and primeval devils.
”But the materials I need are difficult to collect.” Clement thought rather regretfully and said, ”I could've used Geno's body as the 'container' if he hadn't died a long time ago and only left his power and godhood behind… Why have I inherited the power of Geno, instead of that of Saint Ivan or Saint Felix?”
When he was sorry about himself, the suburb of San Ivansburg was enshrouded in darkness.
San Ivansburg in the late autumn was already as cold as the winter in Allyn. It was particularly freezing at night.
On a wide but not steep hill, a wagon was riding toward the manor at the foot of the hill.
The slim coachman had a red nose and wore a coat that wasn't very thick. He spurred the horse and poured hard liquor into his mouth, as if it was the only thing that could prevent him from the coldness.
Suddenly, the coachman shivered. Even the hard liquor seemed not enough to stop the coldness from rising in his heart.
He looked at the sky. Seeing that the silver moon had been blocked by the clouds and everything was dark, he subconsciously felt deserted and creepy. So, he waved his whip and accelerated the wagon.
The horse ran quickly for a while, but it slipped during a turn, and the wagon flew out, falling off the slope that was not too high.
”Damn it. How should I tell my lord…” The coachman was not heavily hurt. He stood up, upset, blaming himself for not reining the horse well.
He was about to check the wounds of the horse when he suddenly saw a cave, which was at a corner of the slope that could never be found under normal circumstances. There was a glittering coin at the entrance of the cave.
”A coin…” The coachman's eyes became passionate. He observed the surroundings carefully and walked to the cave, speculating in excitement whether or not there were treasures inside.
He was too drunk to consider whether or not there were dangers in the cave. He simply walked over and picked up the coin, not realizing that he passed through a transparent shield of light that was about to disappear.
He was about to examine the coin, but his pupils suddenly widened, because the cave was full of weird symbols that denoted pain, desperation, and hate.
The coachman went stiff and stood where he was while watching the symbols decompose and disappear in a couple of minutes together with the light shield that he did not notice.
Then, he shook his head and burped. ”Did… Did I fall asleep just now?”
When the coachman walked into the cave, Clement, who was still in the Saint Geno Church, suddenly sensed something. He disrupted his ”repentance” and really closed his eyes. Then, he saw a pair of mocking red eyes in the darkness.
”Somebody transformed into the status of primeval devils in San Ivansburg through the power of negative feelings. I sensed the strong pain, desperation, and hate…” Maltimus said affirmatively. ”Find out who he is as soon as possible.”
Clement squinted. Did anyone else in San Ivansburg know the status transformation?