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250: Chapter 48: Wilhelm’s Story Instance 250: Chapter 48: Wilhelm’s Story Instance The Underground Opera House was built two levels below New Swan Castle, nestled within the mountainside at the foot of the Alps.

The trio walked down the descending staircase, with Eleanor using her Long Spear to sweep aside vast expanses of spider webs, creating a sound akin to tearing paper.

Countless startled spiders of various sizes scurried away along the walls and through the cracks in the flooring.

“Could there be ghosts here?” Miel asked.

“Hey!” Eleanor shivered instantly, scolding, “Let’s not talk about such ominous things.”

“If there are ghostly creatures, that would indeed be troubleso,” Aske said, “We didn’t bring any Magic Output this ti.”

Are we really afraid of that?

The two girls were simultaneously at a loss for words.

However, with so many speechless monts shared with Aske, both girls had developed a strong tolerance and quickly dismissed their complaints, casting them out of mind with just a slight murmur of disdain.

“Why would they build an opera house underground?” Miel inquired.

“Because the underground has good sound insulation,” Eleanor replied, “Sound from inside doesn’t escape, and noise from outside doesn’t get in.”

Upon arriving at a dilapidated door, they pushed it open to find that it led to the expected setting of an abandoned opera house.

“Alright, now it’s ti to look for the lock,” Eleanor declared.

Everyone set about their tasks.

Miel chose to search the audience seats, Eleanor examined the walls carefully, trying to discover the mysterious protrusion that could hint at a secret door.

Aske walked straight onto the stage, facing the audience seats, pretending he was a perforr.

This viewpoint…

seed too close, his vision unable to encompass all of the seats.

He stepped back a few paces.

Still a bit close, he retreated several steps again.

This distance was just right.

If I were a perforr, I could stand here and see all the audience’s reactions.

Then he began to scrutinize the floor beneath his feet and finally spotted a small depression, dust-laden, into which the Swan Key would fit perfectly.

He took out the hexagonal brass key from his bag.

As he inserted it into the depression, he felt a noticeable resistance, as if triggering so chanism; the stage floor creaked and retracted.

“Found it?” Eleanor and Miel ran onto the stage at the noise, gazing blankly at the large hole that the stage floor had revealed.

“Let’s go,” Aske said and took the lead heading down.

Below the gaping hole was a hidden study.

Lined against the wall were innurable bookshelves filled with dusty books of various sizes, which, from their spines, appeared to be works about music and mythology.

Of course, the most eye-catching feature was the coffin in the center of the room, fashioned in the shape of an accordion, housing a skeleton…

The group only glanced inside montarily before feeling the world spin around them as if the scenery had collapsed and shifted to an entirely unfamiliar environnt.

Beneath their feet lay the stage floor, and ahead were countless neatly arranged rows of audience seats—they seed to have returned to the theater.

“Good afternoon, living ladies and gentlen!” Standing behind them was a middle-aged Frank dressed in a suit.

He wore a floppish reporter’s cap, had a pipe in his mouth, and sported a remarkably broad and square chin.

“Don’t worry, I an no harm,” the stranger said quickly as Eleanor raised her Shield and Miel aid her gun at him.

With a smile, he lifted his hands in surrender and continued, “I just want to ask you all for a small favor.”

“A favor?” Eleanor said vigilantly.

Ever since the incident at Lunfield Town, she harbored strong suspicions towards sudden appearances, “Who are you?

State your na first.”

“I am Wilhelm Richard Wagner,” the man said, removing his pipe, “a close friend of your Weisbach family ancestor, Ludwig.”

“You’re not dead?” Miel queried.

“No, young lady, I have indeed died,” Wilhelm replied with a laugh, “That’s what’s fascinating about this world.

Even after death, Transcendents can still exist in so form in this world, until their lingering will in the world is fulfilled.”

“What obsession do you have?” Aske followed up on his topic.

“You should know that I created many plays during my lifeti,” Wilhelm said.

“Their inspirations usually ca from various folk myths and legends, such as ‘Siegfried,’ ‘Twilight of the Gods,’ and ‘Nibelungen Ring,’ among others.”

“However, in the unfortunate year of my accidental death, I was composing a classic play.

It was adapted from a famous tragic fairy tale from Italy, and it was a work I especially cherished.”

“When I completed this play in Venice, a sudden heart attack struck , preventing from sending the play to Bayreuth before I hastily departed from this world.”

“And because of my passing, this play, along with my other belongings, was sealed away, with no chance of gracing the stage to this day.”

“If possible, I would like to invite the three of you to participate in its performance.

At least before I leave this world, allow to see the last grand production I devised carried out, and I shall die with no regrets,” Wilhelm bowed slowly, one hand over his heart, his eyes filled with sincerity.

“The roles in this play, the other insignificant supporting characters, I can replace with Mind Bodies conjured by imagination,” he pointed to his temples, “But the three main roles must be played by living humans to truly reflect the Spirituality of the characters in my script.”

“What exactly is the work about?” Aske asked, frowning.

In his past life on the gaming forums, he had rely skimd through posts by players, vaguely aware that the final reward for this instance was an Extraordinary Trait from the “Luck” Sequence, and players had to pass Wilhelm’s test to obtain the reward.

But who would have thought this was actually a plot-driven instance, with the test involving staging a play?

If it were the kind of tragic drama filled with unreasonable cruelty, like those made by Qiong Yao, he’d turn around and leave imdiately, fetching dea, that drama queen, to please the other party with her performance.

“Oh, you might have heard of this work,” Wilhelm said with a faint smile.

“Its na is ‘The Azure Longsword.'”

Eleanor: ……

Miel: ……

Aske: ……

“Maybe we should change the na of our rcenary Group,” Aske sighed.

“Constantly having the sa na as other things is quite embarrassing.”

“You’re mbers of a rcenary Group?

And it’s also nad The Azure Longsword?” Wilhelm’s eyes brightened.

“Wonderful!

A little jest from the Goddess of Destiny!

It’s as if you were tailor-made for the roles in my play!”

“Mr.

Wilhelm, our rcenary Group has nothing to do with your play,” Miel said.

“Moreover, as far as I know, the three of us differ greatly from the characters in your play.”

“Spirituality,” Eleanor, and Miranda, the characters of ‘The Azure Longsword,’ and their professions are Swordsman, Mage, and Priest respectively.

Whereas among us three, only the Squad Leader can barely pass for a Swordsman, Eleanor and I have no clue about the Mage and Priest professions, and would likely fail to portray the corresponding characters adequately.”

“Oh, that’s not a problem,” Wilhelm said again, tapping his temple.

The surrounding scenery quickly changed—now, it had beco a mountain village, and the clothes on Aske and his companions transford as well.

Aske’s gear turned into studded leather armor, his only weapon a Knight Longsword; Eleanor was “dressed” in a sleek and enticing Mage Robe.

Miel looked at her hands in astonishnt; her sniper rifle had disappeared, replaced by a dical kit and a small injection gun.

“In fact, you are now in a Mind Body state, within my decaying thoughts,” Wilhelm said with a slight smile.

“Whether it’s the stage setup, the background, the costus, or even the corresponding supporting characters and villains, I can create them all with a single thought.”

“As for acting, I’m afraid we can’t demand too much, as you three are the only visitors in hundreds of years.

However, as an excellent playwright, directing actors is also part of my job, and I believe we will collaborate perfectly.”

“I have a better suggestion,” Aske said.

“We have a red-haired lady in our team, extrely tactful and with superb acting skills, who might be a better fit for your requirents.

I can go get her to play in your drama.”

“That won’t do,” Wilhelm said, smiling.

“While there must be at least so level of trust between people, I am already dead.

If you leave now and never co back, how many years will I have to wait for suitable actors?”

“Are you saying that if we don’t cooperate with you, you won’t let us leave?” Eleanor raised her eyebrows.

“If the performance is successful, I will leave all of my legacy in the room outside to you,” Wilhelm sat back, and a high stool imdiately appeared beneath him, sturdily supporting his body.

“If you are unwilling, then I must wait for you to change your minds.”

“Additionally, the ratio of ti flow speed between my thoughts and the real world is adjustable by , so you needn’t worry too much.

But if it drags on too long, there might be so unforeseen problems with your bodies in reality,” he turned his head and rested his chin in his hand, pretending to muse.

“Hmm, I rember there being quite a few wild animals nearby.”

“Continuing like this is pointless,” Aske looked at the other two.

“Or shall we just give it a try?”

Miel and Eleanor exchanged glances; with the Squad Leader having spoken, they could only sigh resignedly:

“Alright.”

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