When the curtain was drawn back once more, the scene on stage had transford into a ruined street.
Remnants of flas flickered on the ground, massive holes gaped in the pavent, and building walls tilted precariously.
A sign lay on the ground, its top edge charred black, bearing the words:
"Blackthorn Security Company."
This was Tingen. This was the front of Blackthorn Security Company. This was where the disaster had erupted.
The performance seed to employ a flashback structure, first depicting the story after the funeral, then circling back to reenact what had happened that day.
Blood, thick smoke, shattered bricks, flas. Amid the chaos, Silas saw several figures sprawled on the ground.
Both Klein and Captain Dunn bore fatal wounds on their bodies, their faces frozen in shock and rage.
Leonard had been violently thrown against a wall and now lay unconscious.
At this mont, no one at the scene was standing.
This appeared to be after Ince Zangwill had launched his attack, killed everyone, and made off with Saint Selena's ashes.
Where was he at that ti?
From his seat below the stage, Silas's eyes searched the set. Then he heard low, faint, agonized murmurs.
There, on the ground opposite Klein and Dunn, lay a twisted body. A terrible hole gaped in his chest, and through it, the mangled remains of his heart were dimly visible.
A few slender muscle fibers extended from both sides of the opening, connecting and attempting to repair the wound.
But the injury was simply too massive, and the body's owner had long since exhausted himself, with little capacity left for healing.
"Cough, cough... hah... hah..."
On stage, the dying Silas struggled to breathe.
His body had been corroded by Ma'am M and her subordinates' flesh and blood.
He'd drunk the Sequence 5 potion, endured the direct bombardnt of the Sun Charm, and had even been ambushed from behind by Ince Zangwill.
He now teetered on the brink of death, or rather, the fact that he still clung to a thread of life in this condition was nothing short of miraculous.
Unfortunately, even miracles have their expiration date.
"Bang!"
"Bang!"
On stage, Silas's shattered body continued to collapse in waves, exploding into small bursts of bloody fireworks.
"Ugh..."
His eyes brimd with madness as he let out pained, guttural sounds, trying to struggle but utterly unable to halt his body's disintegration.
Having just consud the potion, then lost massive amounts of flesh and blood, and suffered lethal damage, he could no longer maintain his body's integrity.
The ritual had failed!
Silas was losing control!
The potion ran rampant inside him, fighting with his remaining flesh for dominance over his body.
He would be transford by the potion, becoming a crazed monster that would devour everything, slaughter everything, and bring despair and destruction to the city of Tingen!
"Damn it..."
The Silas on stage murmured unwillingly.
He wanted to resist, but his body was beyond his control, sliding faster and faster toward the edge of losing control.
He couldn't even kill himself!
"Bang!"
Seven faces surfaced on Silas's body, those of Ma'am M and her subordinates.
They had suffered severe damage earlier but had recovered again through their connection of shared flesh and blood.
At this mont, they were completely dominated by the potion, competing with Silas for control of his body.
A filthy, blood-red color spread across his body's surface. As the several faces advanced, they devoured Silas's body bit by bit.
Once his body was completely seized, he would utterly beco a monster that had lost control!
Silas sank into trendous pain. He plunged all his ntal energy into his body, fighting and struggling against Ma'am M almost by pure instinct.
Yet by now, he was nearly spent. F
acing the encroachnt, he could only resist a little, then retreat a little. His consciousness grew completely hazy. He probably couldn't hold on much longer.
"Tap, tap..."
Just then, from one side of the stage, a black-haired, blue-eyed girl rushed onto the scene.
She possessed an exquisite, breathtakingly beautiful face that bore so resemblance to Silas. She was his sister, Cecilia.
Her expression filled with worry, she quickly searched the scene and soon discovered her brother and the absolute wreckage that was his body.
"Brother!"
Cecilia let out a startled cry and tried to rush forward.
But Silas's Sequence 5 body on the verge of losing control emanated terrifying ntal influence that prevented her from approaching.
"Silas, brother, I'm sorry... I ca too late..."
Seeing her brother's condition, Cecilia's azure eyes welled with intense grief.
The dagger in her hand beca unsteady, and with a clatter, it fell to the ground.
On stage, the semiconscious Silas was completely unaware that his sister had appeared. He rely continued his tug-of-war with Ma'am M.
"Ma'am M... so it really is you..."
Cecilia saw Silas's transformation and the faces rising from his chest.
Though she didn't recognize the others, she easily identified Ma'am M, who occupied the dominant position.
Turning her head back, beside the overturned carriage, the inverted cross painted in blood remained clearly visible.
She looked back and forth at all of this, her eyes seeming to co to an understanding.
Below the stage, a terrible premonition suddenly surged through Silas's heart.
"What a clever child, to understand the situation so quickly, to realize that Ma'am M is using your body to advance to Shepherd," said the other personality he had split off, now standing beside him.
Her tone was hazy, seemingly tinged with indescribable sorrow and admiration. Ma'am M had once explained the Shepherd advancent ritual to the siblings.
Now Cecilia understood that her brother lacked help at this mont and couldn't resist.
The performance continued. Cecilia looked at Silas, whose body was gradually collapsing and who couldn't contend with Ma'am M.
The grief in her eyes gradually faded.
Her expression grew resolute.
"Cecilia, stop!"
Below the stage, Silas's scalp prickled. He suddenly thought of sothing and leapt up, shouting at the top of his lungs!
But Cecilia on stage completely ignored him and instead picked up the dagger from the ground.
"It's no use. She won't hear you. This is rely a reenactnt of what happened then," said the personality resembling Ma'am M, shaking her head.
"Get lost!"
But Silas couldn't care less about that. He shoved aside the woman next to him and rushed toward the stage like a madman.
"Bang!"
A transparent wall materialized in front of the stage, blocking his advance.
He shouted and yelled, his fists hamring wildly, but he couldn't break through the barrier at all.
He could only watch as his sister before him continued her actions.
Cecilia picked up the dagger, reversed the blade, and aid it at her own chest.
At this mont, on her exquisitely beautiful face, a calm smile slowly erged.
It was the serene expression possessed only by those who faced death with composure, determined to sacrifice themselves.
She would willingly offer herself, becoming part of the Shepherd, making the ritual succeed and sparing her brother from losing control and dying.
"Brother, we promised each other," she said, her voice trembling. "Promise you'll survive."
"Stop!"
"Cecilia, forget about ! I'm begging you, stop!"
"For God's sake, don't do this! You need to be the one who lives!"
Below the stage, Silas scread himself hoarse, his eyes nearly splitting as he watched Cecilia grasp the dagger with both hands in reverse grip and raise it high.
"Squelch!"
Blood sprayed. The dagger plunged heavily into her tender heart.
As if all the vitality and beauty of a young girl burst forth in that instant, she arched her slender body backward slightly, her face showing an expression of bitter, wrenching sorrow.
"I will beco the Shepherd, for you, my brother."
With those words, she moved her legs forward, rushing toward Silas's collapsing body.
The two rged together effortlessly.
"Ceci... lia?"
As flesh and blood fused, as if sensing sothing, the Silas on stage suddenly spoke in pain and confusion.
On his body's surface, fresh flesh and blood beca a powerful reinforcent, like a relief force that rapidly drove back Ma'am M and her subordinates' influence.
The corrupt, twisted blood-red color and the several faces quickly receded until they shrank into a corner and were completely devoured.
The girl's breathtakingly beautiful face floated on Silas's body surface, then slowly sank.
Silas's flesh and blood gently enveloped her, protecting her in the deepest reaches of his body and soul.
After completing all this, Silas's body had exhausted all its spirituality.
It began to contract, to wither, and finally transford into a charred corpse, with only the deepest part of his body locking away a thread of life.
The curtain slowly closed. The performance had ended.
"Cecilia..."
Below the stage, Silas lost all his strength and slowly sank to the floor. He sat there dazed, murmuring softly.
"Clap, clap, clap."
Crisp applause rang out from the audience seats behind him, starting with one person, then quickly overlapping.
Captain Dunn, Ma'am M, Sirius, all the audience mbers rose to their feet, cheering and applauding to express their appreciation for the wonderful performance.
"Cecilia!"
Silas cried out in despair, but he could no longer hear his own voice. The entire theater echoed with thunderous applause and cheers from the audience.
His solitary grief was drowned in the enormous joy, insignificant and tiny.
The curtain slowly opened.
The stage was now empty.
Everything that had just happened seed truly to have been rely a performance, as if those actors had already exited, were now laughing and chatting backstage, preparing to grab a late-night snack, to go out for entertainnt.
"That's what happened that day," said the female personality he'd split off, who had sohow walked to his side.
She sighed. "When you woke up and realized you'd devoured Cecilia, you imdiately plunged into despair and anguish.
Cecilia sacrificed herself in this way to achieve your Shepherd advancent.
One can only say that the Shepherd pathway, due to the madness of the True Creator at its apex, is destined for despair and suffering."
"Then I'll slaughter them all."
Silas said softly.
As the words left his mouth, he realized the heart-piercing pain, the burning rage, the inability to endure it.
"Slaughter who?" asked the red-haired, golden-eyed woman.
"Slaughter the True Creator, Mr. A, and everyone in the Aurora Order, and all the lunatics who worship that evil god!"
He said.
"Boom!"
Flas surged up in the theater, spreading rapidly, burning fiercely.
The firelight was dazzling as the flas greedily licked at everything in the theater.
"I will end this cursed Sequence! I will slaughter the damned True Creator! I will replace Him! I will beco the true god of the Hanged Man!"
Silas shouted madly.
As if responding to his roar, the fire spread furiously.
The audience present paid no attention, still cheering, still applauding, letting the flas consu them, letting Silas's resounding roar echo endlessly.
"I will beco the last Shepherd!"
---
Backlund, East Borough.
Mr. A looked at the disintegrating flesh and blood before him, and at Silas's face floating on the surface of the flesh.
That face bore despair and pain, murmuring in a low voice.
"Praise you, my Lord."
Silas said.
"Yes, yes! Exactly! Just like that!"
Hearing Silas's words, Mr. A trembled with excitent throughout his entire body.
"Call out, praise Him! Only the Lord is the salvation of all things! You can finally understand the Lord's greatness!"
He felt gratified and joyful.
Another lost lamb had found direction, converting to the Lord's embrace.
Though the other party had blasphed much before, the Lord was rciful.
The Lord loved all people. As long as he was willing to believe in the Lord, He would forgive all his sins!
"Do you hear, great Lord!"
He spread his arms wide, shouting toward the sky.
"Boom!"
A mad, lofty, terrifying presence slowly descended. That towering existence, attracted by Silas's words, once again cast its gaze here.
Mr. A prostrated himself humbly, feeling his Lord's will approaching until it ca above Silas, entered Silas's body, and began to transform his cognition.
The Black Knight's blade of spirit and flesh was blocked by the tide within Silas's body, but correspondingly, that tide also temporarily vanished, no longer able to shield Silas from the True Creator's ntal erosion.
As if involuntarily, Silas began to pray:
"I will beco the Shepherd, for you, my Lord."
A smile couldn't help but appear on Mr. A's face. This was the prayer recited when becoming a Shepherd. He was very familiar with it.
Then he heard Silas continue:
"To usurp authority from your hands, to curse your na and spirit."
The smile on Mr. A's face froze.
"What are you saying?"
He asked unconsciously.
But Silas didn't stop. Instead, he continued praying:
"I will raise the eternal banner of rebellion, transform rage into a blade, and tear you apart, blasphe you."
"Silence!"
Mr. A roared. He couldn't believe that even at this point, the other party was still defying the Lord's will!
"Until I destroy your divine kingdom, until your filthy blood falls from the heavens like rivers spreading across the earth, flowing endlessly!"
On the surface of the flesh and blood, Silas's face, which had been in a dazed, out-of-control state, suddenly opened its eyes, filled with bone-deep hatred.
He could feel that at this mont, his mind was flooded with the True Creator's will.
He was trying to control him, trying to make him beco His faithful believer.
Go to hell!
Silas sneered and cursed, speaking aloud in Hers:
"The Fool who doesn't belong to this era,"
"The mysterious ruler above the gray fog,"
"The King of Yellow and Black who wields good fortune!"
"Please descend, please help destroy all of this!"
Cecilia was already dead. Nothing mattered anymore!
The Fool, the Fool who opposed the True Creator, the powerful and mysterious Fool!
Take it, my soul, my life, all of it is yours!
Co with and slaughter all these damned things clean!
"Blaspher!"
Mr. A's scream ca from across the way. In his mind, the True Creator's murmurs also brimd with rage.
But Silas revealed a tragic, twisted smile. Because he felt it. Almost at the sa mont he finished reciting the prayer, another deep, great, mysterious existence lowered its gaze.
The Fool had descended.
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