Did this guy’s containment object even have side effects?!
Elias stood in the pit filled with slimy, decaying leaves, staring down at the Spy's Derby Hat.
In his mind, he was frantically calculating the so-called costs he had just heard.
That was it?
Compared to the cane in his hand and that withered elemental gun of his...
Looking at this hat that only required a bit of spirituality and, at most, caused some nightmares.
This thing was practically a gem, alright?
“John’s damn luck is actually quite good.”
Even Old Ed sighed in the mental channel between the two of them.
“However, for an ordinary transcendent, it’s actually quite a significant cost.”
The old man began his rigorous analysis of the topic on his own.
“The main reason most containment objects are passed down is that spiritual consumption is their primary side effect.”
Old Ed spoke at a steady pace.
“For a high-Scale transcendent, that is a risky but acceptable side effect.”
This was the truth.
Elias nodded inwardly.
Spirituality was like the battery life of a mobile phone in modern society.
For high-level powerhouses, they carried around a power bank with tens of thousands of milliampere-hours; this level of consumption was like losing one percent of their charge.
But for those at the bottom, the newcomers who had just stepped into the supernatural world...
Exhausting one's spirituality meant the collapse of one's rational defenses, which meant being dragged into the abyss at any moment by the eerie existences wandering in the shadows.
“And then there’s the obsession manifesting as a True Dream.”
Old Ed’s voice suddenly dropped a few notches, carrying a hint of warning.
“In reality, this is also very dangerous for many low-Scale transcendents.”
“Once you lose yourself in the dream, your cognition will be completely altered.”
“That applies even to you.”
Old Ed gave his final summary.
Elias remained noncommittal.
He simply curled his lip slightly.
Dangerous?
Perhaps.
In the supernatural realm, any item with supernatural attributes was like a credit card filled with predatory terms.
If you weren't careful, it would bankrupt you, and even your soul would be taken as collateral.
But it was also possible that he had seen too many terrifying existences by now.
After so much friction, he had grown a thick skin.
As for a minor side effect like "having a dream and possibly suffering cognitive dissonance"...
He had long since lost all feeling for it.
Could this even be called an issue?
Although he still maintained the necessary reverence in this crisis-ridden supernatural world...
He never joked with his own life.
But toward this kind of side effect, he felt more of a sense of relieved numbness.
It was like an old office worker facing the punch clock on a Monday morning.
Numb.
He didn't dwell on it too much.
Time was pressing; the revelry of the Spark Festival could end at any moment.
He had to finish this quickly.
And so.
Under the guidance of the translucent John floating in mid-air.
Elias slowly leaned over.
He cautiously reached out his right hand, fingers slightly curved, and carefully removed the derby hat from the head of the corpse.
The moment the black hat was removed.
The face of John’s corpse twisted for a moment, revealing a pale, already somewhat rotting face.
However, one could vaguely see a resemblance between this pale, rotting face and the spiritual body of John floating nearby.
Having confirmed the look, it was the original goods.
“This needs a wash, doesn't it?”
Elias held the edge of the brim with two fingers, looking at the John in mid-air with a face full of disgust.
“If you don't mind it, you can also just wear it.”
John shrugged.
“I’ll pass.”
He refused decisively, without a hint of hesitation.
With that said.
Elias quickly opened his backpack.
He tossed the derby hat inside.
Next.
He fished a dagger out of his backpack.
The moment he gripped the dagger firmly in his hand.
Under his gaze, the blade of the dagger suddenly became soft.
The hard steel material melted like mercury.
It flowed silently through the gaps between his fingers, dripping onto the soil and vanishing.
The sensation in his palm changed drastically in an instant.
Elias’s expression shifted.
A familiar feeling flooded his senses.
The air around his vision began to ripple with irregular water-like distortions.
The scent of the surrounding soil and the firelight of the distant Spark Festival all became bizarre and kaleidoscopic in that moment.
Only then did he remember!
It seemed that today, his old friend, the dream demon, had not yet tormented him with its most prideful, goddamn hallucinations!
This grandson!
To actually launch a surprise attack on him at this critical juncture!
Punching in for work right on time, are we?
Are you expecting a perfect attendance award at the end of the year?!
Elias cursed inwardly.
He shook his head violently.
He tried his best to stay conscious amidst this distorted storm of senses.
When he opened his eyes again, the dagger in his hand had turned into a rotten tree branch.
He could only try his best to tell himself that this was a knife.
Even though it looked like a rotten branch, it was actually a knife!
“Let’s start the surgery as soon as possible, shall we?”
He looked up and spoke seriously to John in mid-air.
His tone carried a hint of gritted-teeth urgency.
He had to hurry.
He was afraid that in a moment, the rotten branch in his hand would turn into something even harder to describe.
And at this time.
Under the continuous pollution of the dream demon’s hallucinations.
His field of vision underwent an absurd filter shift.
As a spiritual body.
In his eyes, John was now emitting a green light.
He looked exactly like the stereotypical ghosts in most cartoons.
“Wait, don't you have a scalpel or something?”
John looked at the chilling dagger Elias was holding and felt a bit intimidated.
This technique was far too crude!
“Be glad I have anything at all!”
Elias immediately said impatiently.
“And are you even using your body anymore?”
“It’s already fermented like this.”
“What’s the difference between me using a scalpel or a dagger?”
“Isn't it all just cutting meat?”
“With all these demands, why don't you get up and cut it yourself?!”
“......”
John was left speechless by this rapid-fire retort.
True.
He was already dead, and his corpse was about to rot through; worrying about whether it was a scalpel or a dagger was indeed a bit pretentious.
“Just do it, just do it!”
John said somewhat helplessly, his illusory arm waving in the air.
“It’s more important to get that thing out of there now.”
Business first.
Elias gave a cold, noncommittal “Mm-hmm.”
He adjusted his stance, preparing to solve the problem with one stroke.
But before he could lean over and act.
He looked down, casting his gaze back toward his feet.
With this one look, he felt as if he had been struck by lightning.
Where was John in the coffin?
In his place was a scene that was both familiar and jarring.
The corpse inside was wearing deep blue official robes.
The mandarin square on the clothes and the horseshoe sleeves were as standard as standard could be.
Presumably, if the derby hat were still there...
It would have been a red skullcap now.
Not only that.
A piece of yellow paper was stuck to the corpse’s forehead.
What the fuck?!
Elias was horrified.
This was the Spark Festival!
This was the Lily of the Valley Convent!
Wasn't seeing this thing a bit too much?
Most importantly, he didn't have a peach wood sword!
A black donkey's hoof, glutinous rice, a bagua mirror—he didn't have any of them!
Wait.
Elias suddenly looked down, staring intently at the rotten branch he held in his right hand.
An absurd thought rose in his mind.
This goddamn rotten branch couldn't be standing in for a peach wood sword, could it?
It had to be!
The setting for this piece of junk wood right now was definitely a peach wood sword!
Since when did the dream demon like designing themed hallucinations for him?!
This was beyond ridiculous; it had reached a whole new level of absurdity!
Whatever!
Let's do it!
Time waits for no one; if he delayed any longer, who knew what else this coffin would turn into.
Elias squeezed his eyes shut, relying on his memory of where the corpse’s abdomen had been just moments ago.
He thrust the rotten branch in his hand fiercely toward the zombie John.
“Holy shit!”
“Where are you stabbing?!”
“That’s my goddamn little brother!”
Rate on N.U.
