“The Mist Veil Society again?!”
Old Ed raised his voice.
Elias, however, stared intently at that scrap of flesh, his brow furrowed into a tight knot.
Could it be that the moment he stepped off the train, these mad dogs had already caught his scent and tracked him down?!
No.
He immediately dismissed the absurd thought.
If those cultists from the Mist Veil Society had truly discovered his whereabouts, why would they send an attack of this caliber?
A single suicide bomber?
They couldn't possibly be naive enough to think that this alone would be enough to take him out.
Besides, who would clean up the mess afterward?
So, it was definitely impossible.
Since the target couldn't be him, this human bomb was undeniably aimed at Wayland Shipping.
But logically, that made no sense.
The Mist Veil Society was originally an ally of Wayland Capital.
There were even persistent rumors that Wayland Capital was the investor behind these cultists.
Blowing up the place of the one who signs the checks?
Why would they strike at Wayland?
Was it a dispute over the spoils leading to a falling out among thieves?
Furthermore...
Elias used the base of his cane to disdainfully poke at the scrap of skin bearing the Chalas Spiral.
This poor soul who had been blown to bits—was he truly a dyed-in-the-wool cultist of the Mist Veil Society?
After witnessing the tragedy of Aaron’s sister, Isabella, Elias had long since lost basic trust in surface-level evidence.
Evidence like this couldn't serve as a definitive judgment of one's true identity.
To find the truth, he needed to use more direct methods.
Elias took a deep breath, a faint, eerie arcane glow flickering at his fingertips.
He activated 【Interpretive Insight】.
He extended his hand, hovering it over the scrap of flesh.
The moment his spiritual feelers touched the meat, a torrent of emotion so intense it was suffocating surged through the spiritual channel, pouring violently into his mind like a burst pipe of sewage!
“Hiss!”
Elias jerked his hand back as if he had touched a live wire.
What on earth had this person experienced before death?!
What kind of bone-chilling agony was that!
It was a mixture of abyssal despair, intense resentment, and a hatred that wanted to tear everything apart.
These negative emotions were intertwined, pulling at each other frantically.
“That was pure evil, old man,” Elias whispered, clutching his chest and gasping for air.
That residual emotion was more nauseating than the stagnant water in a sewer.
“What?” Old Ed asked, sounding startled in his sea of consciousness. “Are you saying the man himself was evil?”
“No.”
Elias shook his head, his gaze becoming terrifyingly heavy.
The evil wasn't the suicide tool, but the masterminds who had turned him into a bomb.
To verify a certain theory, he suppressed the nausea in his stomach and stepped over the crunching glass shards on the floor.
Among the messy wreckage, he found another piece of flesh that had been blown under a desk.
The light at his fingertips flickered again.
He activated 【Interpretive Insight】 once more.
This time, what flooded his mind was a completely different set of emotions!
There was no hatred, no pain.
Only an endless confusion and a numbness that reached the point of utter emptiness.
The same person, the same body, yet two pieces of flesh contained completely severed emotional states.
There was only one possibility.
This person had already gone insane beforehand.
His soul had long since shattered into countless unfixable puzzle pieces.
But it made sense.
Just like Aaron’s sister, Isabella, who had been kidnapped, brainwashed, and tortured by those inhuman beasts of the Mist Veil Society.
Going insane seemed to be the norm. It would be stranger if they didn't.
However, to precisely drop an insane experimental subject into Wayland Shipping's territory to be detonated... there was a thick scent of conspiracy in the air.
“The man was already insane,” Elias said to Old Ed in his mind, shaking the dust off his hands.
“Also, old man, you've lived a long time. Do you know of anyone who could possess such pure spirituality?”
Elias recalled the energy fluctuations at the moment of the explosion and added, word for word, “Pure to the point of not containing even a hint of a deity's presence.”
“Theoretically, that's impossible.”
Old Ed fell into deep thought. This completely contradicted the fundamental theories of classical mysticism.
“Normally, once any transcendent consumes a potion and steps into the supernatural realm, their spirituality should inevitably carry the scent of the deity they believe in.”
This was an irreversible rule.
“Unless...” The old man seemed to think of something preposterous. “Unless this person was a Faithless.”
“What?!”
Elias’s eyes widened, and he nearly shouted out loud. “A Faithless can become a transcendent? How is that possible?”
This completely overturned his understanding of the supernatural since he had crossed over!
If a Faithless could cause such a massive spiritual explosion, then why bother worshipping gods? Why not just cultivate like an immortal?
“Did you think I was lying to you back then?!” Old Ed snapped, hearing the doubt in his tone.
“Who knows?” Elias replied with his usual habitual sass, remaining stubborn to the end.
“Get lost,” the old man muttered, clearly not wanting to bicker with him.
Old Ed cleared his throat, his tone becoming more serious than ever.
“This is exactly what I find most baffling. Doesn't this create a fundamental contradiction?”
The old man began his lecture. “A Faithless simply cannot establish a Rational Circuit. Without the guidance of a faith pathway, the body cannot withstand such an immense amount of spirituality. Furthermore, without the process of the ‘Audience’—praying to a deity for a connection—one cannot establish a Rational Circuit in the sea of consciousness. Without a circuit, their sea of consciousness remains in its most primitive, chaotic state.”
The old man gave his final conclusion. “So, how could they possibly store such a massive amount of spirituality?”
Elias felt a headache coming on after hearing this.
He suddenly realized that the man who had self-destructed must have a very special identity.
Because a Faithless naturally wouldn't believe in the ‘Lord’ mentioned by the Mist Veil Society!
Thinking back to the members of the Mist Veil Society he had encountered—whether it was Firth or the lackeys in the cemetery—most of them possessed the thick, negative spirituality associated with that ‘Lord.’
It was like rotting seafood that had been fermenting in the deep sea for half a month, or a dead whale that had washed up on the beach and reached a state of high decomposition.
However, the spirituality of this man was startlingly clean!
It was like pure meltwater from a snow-capped mountain.
That meant it was impossible for him to have a connection with the core faith of the Mist Veil Society.
And yet, he had the Chalas Spiral tattoo on the back of his neck.
Based on these clues, it was almost certain that this man’s situation was very similar to Isabella’s.
They were both victims of forced modification.
Except that as a Faithless, he didn't worship the Mist Veil Society’s ‘Lord.’
But the question came back around: where did this massive, pure spirituality without a hint of impurity come from?
Who possessed the technology to turn a Faithless into a mobile arsenal?
While Elias’s brain was working overtime and his brow was furrowed in thought, a sound suddenly came from the silent, ruined lobby behind him.
It was the steady click of shoe heels against the shattered marble floor.
The sound was unhurried, carrying an air of calm control over the entire situation.
Elias’s spine stiffened, and he silently tightened his grip on The Roaring Cane.
“Hello, sir.”
A resonant, masculine voice spoke behind him.
“My sincere apologies. It is truly regrettable that such an unfortunate event occurred here today.”
The tone was so casual it sounded like an apology for serving the wrong cup of coffee.
“May I ask what business you have with Wayland Shipping?”
Elias didn't turn around immediately.
With his back to the newcomer, he silently activated 【Spirit Vision】.
His vision shifted.
Scale Three!
This was a bona fide transcendent!
Not only that, but as the man spoke, a group of people in black uniforms stepped out from behind him like workers on an assembly line.
Carrying tools, they efficiently began marking the positions of the corpses and the bloody remains on the floor.
Elias slowly turned around.
He looked at the man before him, who was dressed in a sophisticated suit and wore a slight smile.
The man gave a slight inclination.
“I am the manager of the Wayland Shipping Hastings Port office.”
“Marcus Weaven.”
Rate on N.U.
