Mystery: When the Fool Meets the Masked Fool

Chapter 260 Caterpillar
Derrick held the gold coin and felt a surge of heat; the closer he got to the coin, the hotter it became.

He moved the gold coin he was holding further away, feeling that it would melt if he got any closer.

The reverse side of each gold coin features a chicken with a middle parting, wearing overalls, and holding a basketball.

Derrick picked up the coin, glanced at it twice, and then a screen of light suddenly appeared, blocking his view.

[Warning! Looking at this again will cause it to explode!]
[Item Name: Multiplicative Explosive Talisman.]
…………

The bustling interstellar department store is filled with all sorts of high-tech products that Emlin can't understand, flying around in the air.

Emlyn raised his chin arrogantly.

"It's...not bad. It's already...almost on par with us vampires. Not bad, not bad."

"To think he's a noble vampire!" A gashapon machine appeared pretentiously in front of Emlyn, offering a fawning compliment.

The dazzling lights, the heart-pounding music, and the shoe prints all over the place are enough to prove its popularity here.

“That’s right! I am a noble vampire!” Emlyn became even more proud upon hearing this.

"Wait, how does it know I'm a vampire?" Emlyn muttered to himself.

"I am a limited edition gashapon machine co-branded with the Erudite Society. These co-branded gashapon machines are prepared for you noble vampires!" The gashapon machine moved even closer.

The Society of Learned Scholars? Never heard of it. But Emlyn didn't show it. He felt that would make him, a noble vampire, seem uncultured.

But how can this be? He's a noble vampire!
So he casually asked, "What's inside this gashapon machine?"

"Um...some collaboration merchandise like figurines," the gashapon machine replied.

"Oh?" Emlyn raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "A doll?"

He subconsciously touched his pocket.

I didn't have any money with me.

“No need. I’m not interested in dolls… I’m not interested in dolls.” Emlyn pretended to be indifferent and turned his head to the side.

“It’s alright, sir.” The gashapon machine circled around to Emlin’s side. “It’s normal to not have money in a dream. We can directly collect your money from reality.”

"How about we try it out a couple of times?" The gashapon machine's words echoed Emlin's thoughts.

“Is that so?” Emlyn nodded, feigning reluctance, “Since you’ve made this request…”

"How exactly does this lottery work? How much does it cost?"

"One pound per draw, guaranteed one in ten draws," the gashapon machine replied quickly.

"Well, that's not expensive." Emlyn nodded.

“Then let’s do ten draws,” Emlyn replied.

Although he wasn't very wealthy, his family were all excellent doctors. He could easily afford to spend ten pounds to buy a doll.

The gashapon machine immediately lit up with a blue light, which then turned into a purple light.

Purple light spread, and items were ejected from the gashapon machine.

A doll of Dr. Dewey, a handsome young photo of Dr. Dewey, a catalog of Dr. Dewey's inventions, Dr. Dewey's research notes from his student days...

Whoever this Dr. Dewey is, he must be incredibly narcissistic. Emlyn thought, picking up the doll.

He's not bad-looking, but he's a man.

What does he need a man for? To put him among the dolls and steal his wife? Emlyn put the doll back into the gashapon machine.

"It seems you don't like it." The gashapon machine understood Emlyn's thoughts; after all, he was too easy to understand.

“I really have no interest,” Emlyn said without mincing words.

"Well... since we're already here, why not check who else is in the gashapon machine? Aren't you curious?" the gashapon machine coaxed.

“Remember this, it’s a gift from a noble bloodline.” Emlyn agreed.

Dr. Dewey's cautionary quotes, a collection of Dr. Dewey's jokes and dry humor, and Dr. Dewey's message to graduates.

Wait a minute! Could it be that this so-called "Erudition Society" co-branded product only collaborated with Dr. Dewey?

"Calm down, calm down. New players get a guaranteed pity after 30 pulls. After so many pulls, you should get a rare character by now. How about we try again?" the gacha machine quickly reassured him. Emlyn took a deep breath and pointed at the gacha machine: "You'd better be."

The moment the gashapon rolled down, Emlin's exceptional vision allowed him to know the result of the draw.

"You...do you even eat fried dough?!" Emlyn couldn't help but curse.

Garbage gashapon machine, garbage Dr. Dewey.

…………

Inside Old Quinn's house, in the basement sealed by a heavy stone door.

Alger didn't sleep tonight either, and he didn't enter the simulated universe.

After helping Klein lure Steel McVitie to the hunting grounds, he was temporarily locked in the basement.

He sat on a worn-out chair, eyes closed, silently reciting the content of "Magnetic Field Madman" that he had memorized at noon.

Alger opened his eyes again and looked at his left hand.

The wind gathered in his hands, rubbing rapidly.

One second, two seconds.

A bead of sweat slid down Alger's forehead.

Not enough, not enough.

The book says that you need to activate your own magnetic field and generate an electric current by rapidly rubbing the cells together.

Even with Sequence Six, controlling the cell is still too difficult.

And a magnetic field...

At that moment, Alger, who was concentrating intently, suddenly saw a gray fog before his eyes, a gray-white mist that he could see even with his eyes closed. And deep within the gray fog, sitting in a high-backed chair, was "Mr. Fool" looking down on everything.

A blurry figure appeared below, hands clasped together and pressed against his face, speaking in a devout tone: "Great Fool, please tell Alger that the matter has been successfully resolved. Maiviti and the others have been successfully dealt with."

"Pretty fast, but that's normal, considering Mr. Fool's saint is present." Alger instinctively praised Mr. Fool, then relaxed and thought.

He also closed his eyes in prayer and thanked Mr. Fool.

Eh! Thank you, Mr. Fool, I love you dearly!

He quickly stood up and kicked the locked door without hesitation.

This is a "Raging Strike" imbued with the power of the "Scorched Earth Walker".

At the same time, as both "Wind Favorite" (Sequence 6 of the Storm Path) and "Wastelander" (Sequence 8 of the Destruction Path), 90% of their points are allocated to physical attributes.

The door was like paper under Alger's feet; it was easily kicked through.

Old Quinn, who was guarding outside the door, was startled and stared blankly at Alger.

Alger walked toward old Quinn without any attempt to conceal himself.

"You...you..." Old Quinn wanted to say something, but couldn't get the words out.

Alger strode past the stunned old Quinn, patted him casually on the shoulder, and walked away.

Old Quinn watched Alger leave, waited a few minutes, then suddenly jumped up from his seat, ready to run out to find Maiviti and the others.

but.

boom!
The "Wastelander's" ability is to turn ordinary objects into weapons, adding a small but considerable extraordinary effect to them.

Bombs with low explosive power undoubtedly fall into this category.

Old Quinn's clothes had already been touched by the Wastelanders.

Even if the bomb is weak, if it explodes close to the body, an ordinary person has no chance of surviving.

But if he does survive by sheer luck, that is his good fortune, and Alger will not care.

Such a weakling would require an all-out effort even to look up to him. How could he possibly take a caterpillar that couldn't even get him to raise his flag seriously?
(End of this chapter)