The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 1142 Ch.1141 Pride and Illusion

"The Mirror of Omniscience".

A mirror that can answer all the world's questions—interestingly, in most stories, the price for such a 'treasure' is usually the user themselves.

In other words: Can you afford the cost of getting the answer?

Like a certain tree.

But the "Mirror of Omniscience" is different.

This mirror does not require anyone to pay a price, nor does it incur a price for any particular issue.

It wants 'all'.

Shandel Kratoff had only heard of it but never had the opportunity to witness it firsthand, so she naturally did not understand the meaning of "all"—according to Gary Kratoff (of course, if she, as a daughter, asked her father a question, he would be happy to answer it for her—only in the warmest moment of their father-daughter relationship), the subject of the "Mirror of All Knowledge" was not that mirror.

It's not the 'thing' in the mirror.

"Nobody dares to use it anymore."

The old bishop sighed.

“With each question asked, the ‘thing’ inside gets closer and closer to the world of wakefulness… Forgive me, my benefactor. I must say, the royal family is frighteningly stupid.”

If this mirror, capable of answering all the world's questions, were to fall into the hands of a wise person, how much could it propel society forward?
No matter how many unsolvable problems there are, whether in medicine, science, or the fog that plagues the empire, just a few questions are enough to keep this enormous warship, forever bathed in golden light, sailing on the waves for another hundred years…

But what have those idiots in the royal family and parliament done?
“You are not much better than them, Father. If I held great power, everything in the world would be within my grasp. Do you think I would need a mirror that only answers questions?” Sandel chuckled. “Mirror, oh mirror, for me, ‘no mirror’ is what matters.”

Gary Kratofer closed his eyes slightly: "Ah, perhaps that's exactly what they think... You've inherited your mother's wisdom, Cindy."

of course.

It also inherited the madness.

—What do you think about all day, daughter?
Gary Kratofer was aware of the price of the path of the "saints" and believed he understood the "darkness"—that is, evil—in the hearts of those who, including himself, were able to embark on this path.

He is better than everyone else.

A 'box' was found to hold these evil thoughts: the newborn boys in London every year, enough to contain his evil thoughts that were becoming increasingly depleted with age.

But his daughter…

Shandel Kratofer.

And that prophecy…

“I find it hard to imagine that anyone would ask questions about the ‘world’ while looking into an ‘all-knowing’ mirror.”

“You can’t expect a young, devout believer to be speechless, Cindy.” Gary Kratofer chuckled as he spoke about the matter.

When he was young.

In his youth, he was a fervent believer who hoped to spread the 'glory of the Father God' to every inch of the land.

Having the privilege of facing that mirror, he should have asked the question that most believers would ask:

Questions about the future of the world, questions about faith, questions about His most sublime and great Father.

If he could turn back time, he swears he would never have done it.

He regretted it.

He can't afford it.

'The world? Humanity, that's a good question. The answer is: Of course—how much would you like to know?'

The thing in the mirror laughed and lifted its leg.

How many answers, how much distance.

Because of its 'illegal' use, the young believer was naturally not foolish enough to indulge his greed—he only asked the simplest question:

Is it related to my descendants?

The answer is: Yes.

and so.

Shandel Kratofer.

"'To hell with the world'—I used to think that too. Cindy, but I am Gary Kratoff, Bishop of the Holy Cross, a pillar of this messed-up hell, one of the few sane fools out there…whether you question the abnormal authority of 'faith,' 'the faithful,' or 'the council'…"

The old man looked earnestly into his own veins: "I was young once too, my dear. I had the same doubts as you... But what about this world? We only consider what happens in the waking world... Do you want them to fall into purgatory?"

Gary Kratofer did not wait for his daughter's reply.

He believed that wasn't a good answer. "'Fool manipulated by prophecy'—Cindy, the government is urging citizens not to place firewood and kerosene lamps too close together…Why?"

"Because of the flames," said Shandel calmly.

"Indeed. But wood and oil can cause a gruesome death? Why are those fools with monocles so convinced of the 'science' they claim to know?"

Sender knew what he was going to say.

"Because they have knowledge and understand the rules of the world."

“So you understand,” Gary Kratofer spread his hands, “I also possess knowledge of the mystical, and naturally understand the rules of the other side of the world…”

The girl grew impatient: "What exactly are you trying to say?"

“Stay away from Enid Jutia, Cindy,” Gary Kratofer said in a deep voice.

If his guess is correct this time…

So, by eliminating the source, perhaps his daughter could…

—This is Gary Kratofer's only bloodline.

If possible, he truly didn't want to see such a tragic ending. As for the effects of Shandel Kratofer's 'malice'…

So what?

Hundreds, perhaps thousands, of civilians died...

His daughter didn't have that much time either.

This is not a big price to pay.

As long as this history continues steadily forward... as the most devout believer of God the Father, he has fulfilled his mission.

He knew some blasphemous secrets, but he still had to be true to his faith.

“Humans are so complicated, Bishop Kratofer.”

Sender crossed his arms and turned toward the damp path that had been buried in the thick fog from which he had come.

“So we are the head of all things, Cindy. A few boys cannot corrupt my faith, just as the lives of the East Side homeless cannot defile your talent… Do you understand?” The old man glanced at his daughter’s spotless sheepskin boots.

Of course he knows everything.

Those homeless people, or daughters with children, would have died a worthy death if they could have a gifted ritualist store their excess evil thoughts in them.

"Stay away from Enid Jupiter. If necessary, leave London with your little lover. At least until..."

"Wait until you figure out a way to eliminate her?" Sender seemed to find it a joke. "I don't think anyone has that ability, Your Excellency. Or is it that, somewhere I can't see—each sect harbors quite a few sleeping, aged Ninth Ring members, or even Immortals?"

"What if I open the door tomorrow and find high-end rings everywhere?"

Gary Kratofer looked at the gray-haired girl with a complicated expression.

His daughter became talkative, and her personality deviated somewhat from its former course—the environment caused all of this…

Or is it because of someone?

"Of course not, Cindy."

The old bishop rubbed his palms together. He was becoming increasingly unable to tolerate this 'thorn robe'.

"The allure of the Holy Grail is enough to make many high-ranking members confront their past fears..."

“In my opinion, the Holy Cross is a lie after a lie. Father God, creation, the Holy Grail…” As a former candidate for sainthood, Chandelier Kratofer knew how many times this ritual had been performed—how could it possibly succeed?
At most, it satisfies the filthy and shameless desires of certain people in parliament…

Saint.

what.

"It seems the 'Great Vortex'... otherwise, I don't think that Horn would dare to provoke Enid Jutia. Because of the Holy Grail?"

The old bishop neither confirmed nor denied it.

“You don’t think that my Roland is the ‘center’?”

“Roland Collins?” Gary Kratofer paused, then laughed. “A ritualist who can’t even tread the path to godhood… a male prostitute favored by Judia solely because of his looks…”

The girl's lake-blue eyes scrutinized her father.

Now, she feels much better.

“That’s true. But I was born loving male prostitutes, Father.”

(End of this chapter)