piratefiction Chapter 178 Great Emperor, I'm sorry...
Chapter 178 Great Emperor, I'm sorry...
Chapter 178 Great Emperor, I'm sorry...
Ikonser paused slightly after seeing the words appear on the surface of the silver mirror. As the keeper of the sealed artifact 2-111, he had never seen Arodes respond with a question after asking one.
After a moment of silence, he felt that this might be due to the lingering aura of the "Lord of Storms" present, so he carefully spoke:
"Aside from anything related to the 'Lord of the Storm,' what I want to know is who the ordinary participants are involved in what's happening here."
As the words fell, ripples of water appeared on the surface of the silver mirror, followed by the emergence of new words:
"As you wish."
The words floating on the mirror quickly dissipated, followed by a scene of rising flames.
Against the backdrop of alternating fire and light, a figure dressed in a double-breasted long dress and a half-high silk hat stands amidst the flames. He places one hand on the top hat on his head and the other behind his back, bowing towards the mirror.
His body was contorted and distorted, his face covered by a layer of crimson firelight and smeared with oil paint, making him so blurry that he was difficult to see clearly.
As he finished bowing and straightened his back, fiery serpents surged around him, quickly engulfing him and disappearing without a trace in an instant.
Then the scene in the silver mirror suddenly darkened, and amidst the shimmering water, a distorted figure appeared, its body stained with colorful starlight, slightly ethereal, with pairs of dazzling wings of light on its back, suspended in mid-air.
The figure was also indistinct in terms of shape and appearance, but it had a pair of extremely bright and striking eyes.
As Iconsel and Clifford were watching closely, the figure in the mirror suddenly turned its head and looked at them.
Even though the reflection in the mirror was so distorted that the expression on their faces was completely obscured, the two instinctively felt that the other was smiling at them.
goo~
Is he waving to us?
The thought had barely crossed his mind when Ikonser, wearing a round felt hat, saw the reflection in the mirror, shimmering with starlight, waving at him.
Then he saw fragments of starlight fall from the figure, dancing in the air and outlining a line of shimmering words on the mirror's surface:
Good evening, both of you.
Waaah~
The wind around him suddenly intensified, and Clifford took a half step back, surrounded by the wind, and looked warily at the ancient silver mirror in Iconsel's hand.
Although Ikonser held the "Magic Mirror" Arodes steadily, his heart was pounding wildly, and he felt an unprecedented tension.
If it weren't for caution, a sense of responsibility, and the fact that his own spiritual intuition hadn't given him a warning, he would have thrown the "magic mirror" away when the star-studded figure in the mirror turned its head.
Fortunately, the images displayed by the "magic mirror" Arodes did not last long.
As the water shimmered, the figure adorned with dappled starlight vanished, replaced by a middle-aged man in a dark red cloak.
His head was hidden in darkness, impossible to see, while his body was cracking, flowing with a deep blue light, like starlight.
The scenes in the mirror kept changing, and then a woman wearing an elaborate black court dress appeared, but her face was completely transparent.
Disappear.
There was also a figure lying on the ground, struggling to move its body, its body stained with distorted starlight tinged with crimson, making it impossible to see anything clearly.
The man, covered in short, coarse hair, with abnormally long and thick arms and sharp, strong nails, always had a shadow over his face.
It makes it difficult to see the specific downy hairs.
And two men covered in black hair, whose faces were also obscured.
As he watched, Ikonser's already heavy mood worsened. Not to mention the strange guy with starlight, every single one of the rest of them had ways to interfere and gain an advantage.
Furthermore, the scene was severely damaged, which essentially blocked any possibility of them continuing their investigation.
He paused, then turned to look at Clifford, who was half a step behind him, and said heavily:
"In the Church's experiments on 2-111, even Archbishop Horamik was unable to actively interfere with the 'Magic Mirror' Arodes's questions and answers."
Upon hearing this, Clifford's breath hitched slightly, feeling a sense of absurdity, as if a college student had suddenly appeared among kindergarten children.
After a half-second silence, he asked, unwilling to give up:
"...Even a saint couldn't do that?"
Ikonser shook his head slightly: "Perhaps some saints with special abilities can do it, but otherwise, it can probably only be suppressed by the violence of angels."
He paused, then sighed and added, "Continue reporting it."
As the two were talking, the surface of the silver mirror that Ikonser was holding suddenly darkened, and then several lines of Old Fussac words appeared:
"Based on the principle of reciprocity, it's my turn to ask the question now."
"If you answer incorrectly, or lie, you will be punished."
Upon seeing the bloody "punishment" on the mirror, Ikonser subconsciously reached out and touched the top of his head, which was covered by a hat. His expression twisted slightly, then became unusually solemn, as if he were ready to die.
Clifford, who had noticed Icons's constantly changing expression, couldn't help but ask curiously:
"Is there anything wrong with its question?"
"Hmm..." Ikonser fell silent for a moment, unsure how to respond.
You'll find out soon enough.
As soon as he finished speaking, the surface of the silver mirror shimmered with layers of water, and then a new line of words appeared:
"Regarding the guy you like, do you like his strong physique or his rich and insightful soul?"
Upon witnessing this scene, Clifford's expression shifted from curiosity to indifference, then to confusion, and finally, he took several steps back in terror.
In the quiet bedroom, ripples of a deep blue light suddenly spread across the full-length mirror in the corner, quickly solidifying into a phantom door.
Then Cyril came out from behind the door.
"You had a good time tonight." A mature, clear, and very familiar female voice suddenly rang out in the room.
Cyril's expression froze for a moment, then he turned to look at the desk by the window.
Bernadette sat leisurely in her chair, holding a steaming cup of black tea in her hand.
She wore beige trousers for easy movement, black leather boots that weren't too short, and a light brown knee-length skirt that cascaded down her back, giving her a carefree and dashing look.
Turning her gaze away, Sirien glanced at the clock on the wall. Unsurprisingly, it had been about ten minutes since the time she usually taught Bernadette to read Chinese characters.
"Um...sorry, I got caught up in the battle and wasted some time."
Should we add today's study time to tomorrow's schedule, or should we start now?
After a moment's hesitation, Bernadette handed over a page of her diary, which was lying beside her, and said:
"Since we've already wasted time, how about we change the subject? Translate this entire page of your diary for me, and that will count as tonight's study material, okay?"
With some curiosity, Sirion reached out and took the diary from Bernadette. The ink on it wasn't completely dry yet, indicating that she had just copied it down a minute or two ago.
Upon seeing the complete contents of this page of the diary, his expression gradually stiffened. "Are you sure you want to know what's in this page? Emperor Roselle didn't record any useful information in it."
Bernadette nodded, her face expressionless.
"I can guess, but I'm curious why you skipped it before. You seemed pretty sure I'd be angry about what was on it."
"Don't worry, even if I get angry, I won't take it out on you. I have that much self-control."
Cyril:
You won't take it out on him, but your dad, who's still on the resurrection screen, will!
After a few seconds of silence and seeing that Bernadette showed no sign of backing down, Cyril sighed helplessly:
"Okay, if you insist."
Your Majesty, I'm sorry...
He took two steps back, brought the still-wet paper close to his eyes, and read aloud in Rune:
"Those nobles were in such a mess on April 23rd! I thought Lady Karen was after my intelligence and that's why she slept with me, but who knew her husband, the Earl of Champagne, was actually spying on me from next door, and even seemed quite excited..."
pat!
The crisp snapping sound interrupted Cyril's chanting. He looked up expressionlessly and saw Bernadette's pen, which had been used in his heroic sacrifice.
"...Continue." Bernadette said expressionlessly, her voice somewhat low.
Cyril turned his gaze away from the broken pen and back to Russell's diary in his hand.
...Given the contents of this diary entry, I suspect Bernadette might renovate my room, well, in a Syrian battlefield style.
He paused, lowered his head slightly, and continued reciting:
"I just returned from Countess Valien's masquerade ball on April 25th, and I suddenly feel a little empty inside."
He glanced up at Bernadette, making sure she was "calm and composed," before continuing to read:
"One woman, one woman, and another, monotonous and mechanical movements, an indistinguishable scent of perfume..."