Chapter 601: The Truth is Always Hard to Accept

It seems the only way to figure out what happened after the Turing Empire, and all the changes from the Third Era to the present, is to find Lady Storm and Mother Earth and ask them—the two True Gods who haven’t fallen into slumber.

“I’ve learned so much, yet it’s only brought more unknowns… Clelia, just how many secrets are you hiding…”

Wei’en muttered to himself.

‘Existing since the Third Era, she went from being a clone of an Ancient God and an Archbishop of the Night Church to… a mere common member of the Eternal Life Association?’

‘And on top of that, she’s the infamous “Thousand Faces” of the Eastern Continent, despised by all… I really can’t imagine what she must have gone through to fall so far…’

Although the records in that relic were far from detailed, they at least clarified Clelia’s identity, so he had achieved his goal for this translation session.

As for the rest, he could only wait until he had further improved his Gonzalez language level—or more accurately, increased the success rate of his Secret Perception proficiency—before he could translate again.

By then, he hoped to discover new secrets and uncover as many of the world’s hidden mysteries as possible.

However, he still had a long way to go before then.

‘At the very least, I need to get stronger first!’

Fortunately, now that he knew Clelia’s identity, his mindset had relaxed somewhat, and he was no longer as anxious as before.

BUZZ… BUZZ… BUZZ…

Just then, the black communicator on the corner of his workbench began to buzz.

Moreover, the little Messenger he had sent out materialized from thin air, its tentacles landing lightly on the workbench. “HISS… HISS… HISS…” (Food).

Wei’en raised an eyebrow. ‘Are the responses from the Ghost Soul School and the Spiritual Mystery School arriving at the same time?’

He ignored the little Messenger hopping about, gently tapped its head to quiet it, and then pressed the communicator’s activation button.

A moment later, gray mist rose and swirled, forming a massive, illusory screen over the workbench. Three rather short figures and a tall Werewolf appeared in the center of the screen.

‘Three Skeleton Mages?’

‘Dean Josue?’

‘Director Amidich?’

And judging by the background behind them—crystalline blue walls and ornate chandeliers—he guessed they must all be in the Ice Castle he had heard so much about.

Wei’en composed himself, rose to his feet, and bowed toward the people on the screen. “Good evening, my lords. I am Wei’en Loft.”

“Boras G. McClure.” The Skeleton Mage in the center of the screen’s jaw moved, the bones grating with a CLICK as a hoarse, deep voice emerged.

‘Boras?’

‘Dean Josue and Teresa’s Legendary Tutor?’

‘A very important person.’

‘If I remember correctly, he’s also the head of the Ice Castle Research Center and the Vice Chairman of the Ghost Soul School—a member of the highest echelons of power…’

“My apologies, Lord Boras.”

“It’s nothing, Director Wei’en,” Boras said, waving a crystalline, bony hand. “I’m the one who should apologize for contacting you directly without prior notice.”

“The one beside me is Anenep Suleimani. You’re likely familiar with the other two, so I won’t introduce them individually.”

“Good evening, Director Wei’en.” Anenep raised a hand and waved. His tone was uncharacteristically gentle, and Wei’en wondered how he managed to control the friction of his bones to produce such a sound.

“We meet again, Wei’en.”

Josue waved more broadly, as if trying to get his attention. He obviously had something to say but was holding back because the others were present.

Director Amidich, on the other hand, just gave a simple nod by way of greeting.

Wei’en’s mind raced. ‘It seems the School has reached a conclusion regarding the Dusk Sect.’

‘I wonder what their specific plan is…’

After a few seconds of silence, Boras saw that Wei’en had no intention of speaking, so he continued, “Regarding the intelligence you reported, I—we have a few questions we’d like to ask.”

“Please ask, Lord Boras.”

“First, I would like you to give a detailed account of matters concerning the Dusk Sect, such as the sinking of Dakman Island and your encounters with those Secret Cultivators and Grave Diggers.”

“No problem.”

Wei’en didn’t hesitate. He started from the very beginning, with the Alchemy Array he had encountered on Dakman Island, and recounted everything up to his encounter with the Grave Digger and the “Master of True Slaughter,” McCarthy, earlier that day.

“…and that’s everything that happened. After his projection vanished, I acquired the black carriage and a few of the Pyramids—a name I came up with myself, by the way.”

As he spoke, Wei’en took a Pyramid from his Space Ring and showed it to them. “This is it. After I devoured it with my Soul-Devouring Magic, my Origin Power increased significantly, which is why I chose to report this to Director Amidich immediately.”

Aside from not explaining in detail how the Master of True Slaughter’s projection disappeared, he gave a full account of everything else, including how he had used Magic to transform a Tier-3 Calamity-class Deep Sea Giant Beast into one of the undead.

“McCarthy…”

The Origin Core in Boras’s eye sockets flickered faintly, as if he had some recollection of the name.

At the same time, he was also aware that Wei’en’s account was reserved on some points, but he assumed they only concerned secrets of personal power.

‘Heh heh, what a cautious little fellow… No wonder he managed to keep his identity as Faceless hidden for so long…’

“Second question: Regarding the Dusk Sect, do you have anything to add to what you’ve already reported?”

‘Add anything?’

Wei’en lowered his head slightly, as if in thought, but it was actually to prevent them from seeing the flicker in his eyes.