I'm fighting Kal'tsit? Really?

Gerald instinctively stopped in his tracks, just as he was about to accept the other person's request—

Skadi spoke earnestly, "Excuse me."

"Is there a bathtub in the room?"

--------

The answer is no.

Hinterlea eventually dragged the dejected Skadi away while yawning, while the young nightmare used the sky as his blanket to fall asleep—considering that he was most likely the one who caused all the problems that night.

After apologizing to Chlor, who had cautiously peeked out, Gerald found his room and went to sleep.

I drifted into a dream, returning once again to that space filled with nothingness.

Upon returning here, Gerald confirmed two things.

The first thing is the original location of the eggshell—the original eggshell still exists, but now the scenery inside the original eggshell is divided into three different appearances.

The scene representing reality shows the appearance of Drip Village and the wilderness, which is the point in time he is in now; on the other hand, the scene of Kal'tsit and the Demon King siblings is still preserved in the eggshell.

After realizing that this was already established history and a fact, Gerald chose to avoid going to investigate when he was not ready. Thanks to some literary works he had read in the past, he realized early on that even if there were timeline discrepancies and things he did not want to happen, he could deceive his cognition to make the "facts" into an unstable state that others had not yet fully observed.

In human terms, even if someone dies at their own point in time, it is not impossible for them to later change the state of "the dead person" into "only others think she is dead" if they are prepared in the future.

The remaining scene, or rather the time period... is not surprising; it belongs to a thousand years ago, when Nightmare Khan was conquering Sargon.

In other words, everything inside this eggshell belongs to the same timeline.

Gerald turned his gaze to another eggshell, to the endless deep sea and waves, and to the white-haired, red-eyed figure.

...It's not the right time to provoke this yet.

"You only stayed here briefly last time, Pegasus. Did something happen outside?"

At this moment, the Blood Demon Lord's voice actually made him feel a little more at ease.

Gerald looked at Ducarre, who was sitting at the table writing. Ducarre cast his bloodshot eyes at him and asked, "Interesting... Compared to last time, your aura has become sharper, like a sword drawn from its sheath, even carrying a hint of fear. You must have encountered a powerful figure."

"indeed so."

Gerald silently gathered the incantation and wind in his hand, took a deep breath, and said to Ducarre, "Just like I told you before, Ducarre. I asked you if you had seen the Nightmare Khan, and you said no."

"That's good, now you've seen it."

He calmly expanded his consciousness, slowly recalling every move and gesture of the other person in his memory—and then sculpted them into the image he remembered in front of him.

The Halandu Khan they remembered was now standing right in front of them.

Despite lacking intelligence, the skills he used were merely techniques Gerald had imagined.

But as one of the most skilled and talented opponents he had ever faced, that was enough.

The Khan and his army will not wait for themselves to grow stronger; they will grow stronger elsewhere and prepare to face challenges.

Amidst the Blood Lord's almost terrified expression, Gerald slowly raised the twin swords in his hands.

"Keep working on your book, Ducarre. You'll be in charge of the second half of the battle later."

"I'm sure you're very happy too."

Chapter Fourteen, Plot Zero (4K3)

It is true that the Khan's martial arts skills are unparalleled, but this only applies to Khans who possess wisdom.

One could even say that his wisdom and strategy were the reasons that made him the Nightmare Khan.

The Khan in his heart was merely a puppet extending his moves according to his thoughts and ideas. The attacks he unleashed were indeed as unstoppable as he had seen before. Even the Blood Demon Lord could only scramble to deal with it at the beginning.

However, after a period of study and analysis, these moves are actually just the most ordinary slashes.

Gerald sheathed his sword with some annoyance. After several hours of practice, he deliberately woke up from his dream, leaving the Blood Demon Lord, whose eyes were gradually becoming numb, in that void once again.

He went to bed very late today, hoping to get back to Kazimierz earlier today to explain the situation to Maria and then prepare to meet Toran at Plot Zero.

The only good news is that he has indeed gained some insights into learning the new moves—which means that he will have a way to continue to break down the Khan when he faces him again.

He had a premonition.

The Khan we saw earlier was far from being at his strongest.

……

The morning light was blocked by thick clouds, and the sky was overcast. The morning air in Dishui Village was mixed with the dampness of grass and soil, and the nightmare sleeping on the roof probably didn't have a very comfortable night.

Gerald opened his eyes from his dream, a light sheen of cold sweat on his forehead. The familiar feeling of weightlessness had faded, leaving him only with a brief blankness as his consciousness returned to reality.

He sat up abruptly, put on his coat, and quickly organized and archived the memories of his practice in the dream. He walked to the window and glanced at the sky, which was overcast and seemed to weigh heavily on the low eaves of Dishui Village. The events of last night had caused quite a stir, but the villagers were generally aware that things were not peaceful during this period, so they mostly stayed quietly indoors until dawn before venturing out again.

As for the nightmares sleeping on the rooftops these past two days, they have become a rather unique sight in Dishui Village.

As Gerald pushed open the door and prepared to leave, he said goodbye to Hinterlea and glanced up at the roof.

"Pegasus."

Tora leaned back on the highest tile of the roof, breathing in the air as the sun rose on the horizon, her gaze falling on Gerald: "You're leaving like you did yesterday, heading to Kazimierz?"

"Well, how about you? Are you feeling any better?" Gerald looked back. "As expected, it's the result of abusing Originium Arts. But since you were able to hold your own against that Agorian for a few rounds, it means you're in pretty good shape."

"...Perhaps that is indeed the case. The darkness has given me shelter, allowing me to remain in it and eke out a living."

After a moment of silence, Tora looked at the sun in the distance, which was obscured by clouds: "Therefore, I can set off today without disturbing the people here, and you don't need to leave that wisp of wind on me."

"Where?"

"Grand Knight Commander".

"Is this a path you set yourself up, or did you choose a destination to follow because you didn't know where to go?" Gerald asked the question without any hesitation, seemingly unconcerned that he was the one who had defeated the other. "It seems to be the latter."

“I am willing to seek out opponents like you to fight, and I am willing to pay the price for it, but that does not mean that my path to heaven should be replaced by recklessness and stupidity instead of my own thinking.”

Nightmare shook his head: "The end of the Heavenly Path, as part of the coming-of-age ceremony, must be determined by the individual. In that case, confusion should also be a part of my Heavenly Path. Simply staying here will not reveal the answer to me. I hope that in the Great Knight Territory, I can find a new end that is different from what I have now."

“Although Kazimierz has yet to give me an answer,” Gerald nodded and waved at him, “I expect you to get something different, Tora.”

"No matter what, I will be waiting for you in Kazimierz."

—Perhaps, this descendant of nightmares that he stumbled upon by chance will become a key figure.

Just as the Khan brought darkness to Qazimir, sometimes the existence of nightmares is a signal in itself.

After leaving behind this seemingly profound statement, Gerald took a light step on the ground, and the incantation appeared beside him instantly with the wind, swirling around him as he left the spot.

Tora sat motionless on the roof ridge, gazing towards the distant Kazimierz.

Now that the wind has shifted, we naturally need to change our approach.

Nightmare lowered his head, his gaze falling on the weapon beside him. It still bore the fine marks left by the sand and gravel from last night's battle, and in some places, even traces of his own blood could be seen, but the hilt was still warm.

He had heard too many legends about that Khan when he was a child, and he had also heard many names that had been forgotten. He had once put himself in that situation and fantasized about the possibility of some kind of "continuation," but after all, these were all too distant, as distant as an iron helmet buried under the scorching earth of the scorching winds—old, cold, heavy, like a phantom.

But now, someone has dug this iron helmet out of the ground, wiped away the blood and rust, and handed it to him, so that he could see it with his own eyes, to see the country buried between glory and quagmire.

Now, he can no longer distinguish whether going to Qazimir is part of the Heavenly Path or whether he is tracing back to the past, imitating and emulating the Khan's great achievements.

Tora slowly stood up, twirled his long blade in a short flourish, and slung it diagonally across his back.

He simply bent down, leaped off the roof, and the moment he landed, his thoughts were scattered by the wind into the heavy morning mist of Dishui Village.

The land beneath our feet is the land our ancestors once trod.

He will personally measure its boundaries.

--------

12:58 PM, Central Kazimir, Meshko Industries, June 18, 1097 (Terra Calendar).

By bypassing layers of defenses and passing through unnecessary registration points and surveillance posts, the residents of Kazimir can reach this large industrial park built by Meshko Industries.

After an ancient family generously donated their land to the group, sculptures and artworks were added to the group's territory every now and then to commemorate the growth of the Kazimierz defense forces—as a kingdom of knights, these artists also became part of the city.

Therefore, compared to a highly modernized, integrated industrial park like Colombia, Casimir's most famous industrial group is clearly far superior to its counterparts in terms of artistry.

During the four-city alliance, the seven mobile platforms will collectively form a territory equivalent to a large urban area in other countries.

From an economic perspective, they seem to be on par with the Rose Newspapers, but given the existence of technological barriers, even if this behemoth were to suddenly collapse for some reason, their legacy could not be immediately divided.

In a sense, the Rose Newspapers should be considered the organization most easily defeated and dismantled by pure force among all the business alliances.

It's hard to say whether the collapse of the media has more advantages or disadvantages, but it's certain that other directors will only experience a painful period of losing their focus while searching for replacements. The collapse of industry, however, will lead to a series of problems, so those vultures who were previously so eager to divide the spoils will actually unite on this issue.

However, if this problem can be solved, the means that the business federation can actually rely on will be extremely limited.

"Your sudden departure yesterday really scared me."

As Gerald silently emerged from the corner of the alley, Toran, who had been waiting inside, also peeked out from the shadows and said with some annoyance, "A problem that forces you to leave on the spot has kept me up all night, fearing that news of an explosion at the Kazimierz building might suddenly appear the next day."

That's certainly not to that extent.

Skadi—according to her own account, as a member of the Deepsea Hunters—showed some initial hostility but then became quite friendly. Aside from her worrisome appetite and thirst, she didn't have many other problems, except for her less-than-ideal relationship with Hinterlea.

The more water was needed in a place, the more Gerald missed the fairy who could conjure water at will—he wondered if the bait that the "reporter" Kane had put down had caught on the line.

"It's not a big problem."

The topic returned, and Gerald was as frank as ever with his partner: "I am now based in the countryside of Kazimierz, where there are always many troubles. Even with power, it is impossible to do everything perfectly. Even the Witch King, before his terrifying power was remembered by the world, used historically significant political means to achieve his rule."

“Hey, I almost forgot, you used to be a nobleman too. You must have read a lot of history books like this.” Toran nodded thoughtfully.

"I suppose so." Gerald simply replied calmly, "I might even have witnessed some of this history firsthand."

"...Where did this new joke come from?" Toran simply remarked.

Gerald didn't speak, but simply nodded at the building in front of him, gesturing for Toran to look in that direction.

There, the infected knights' containment and treatment center stood calmly on the earth. Numb knights and infected dragged their weak bodies toward it, and the direction they came from was their destination for the day.

“This is no joke, you’ve seen it now.” Gerald said, then continued walking forward. “Our history, which is so repetitive it’s sickening.”

……

There is no cure for the infected.

The topic ends here.

Just imagine someone maliciously inserting exposed Originium fragments into a normal person's body, causing blood exchange and injury, ultimately leading to infection—this kind of self-destructive behavior has a high probability of occurring when Oripathy is incurable.

Tolerance is only for the strong. Ordinary people will not accept such a large-scale random event happening to them, so the only thing they can do is stay away. At the same time, conflicts and hatred will continue to intensify.

We've had far too many similar experiences. Let's just take it away and wait for Kal'tsit to come up with a solution.

Plot Zero, whose full name is the "Great Knight Territory Infected Centralized Medical Department," is an infected treatment area jointly managed by multiple companies. The nearby infected containment and treatment center was established by the Supervisory Council to specifically handle the infected they despise—the word "handle" has two meanings.

Meshko Industries' decision to hand over this sector was never out of humanitarian considerations. It was a pilot project, a filter, and a permitted "buffer zone for conflict."

Here, businesses can quietly select useful infected individuals, mark and remove them, and put them into the workforce needed by the four-city alliance, or leave them in mines to spend the last moments of their lives, calling it "their own choice."

The place was so small that a single alleyway could connect seven or eight shacks. Homeless infected people slumped in a corner, their eyes numb; ragged people and porters with company signs brushed past each other without a second glance.

There was no anger here, and even the resentment was so faint as to be almost non-existent, as if everyone had long since accepted the rules here.

Gerald and Toran entered the edge of the plot one after the other.

The incantation slowly unfolded beneath their feet. Toran didn't ask any questions about it. Even with the wind blocking out the sound, he seemed to have no interest in chatting, afraid of making any noise. Outsiders were too conspicuous in this area. Even just showing their backs could attract unnecessary trouble. After all, they weren't here to show off how powerful they were.

Navigating between cracked brick walls and dilapidated awnings, Toran led Gerald around areas they shouldn't have gone near. In some alleys, they could even see groups of infected people, surrounded by labeled bottles of drinking water and medicine, like goods awaiting evaluation.

The two eventually stopped in front of a dilapidated building with corrugated iron walls.

If businesses need to know the physical condition of infected individuals through diagnosis, then there is one place that could be the perfect location for the business federation to place for surveillance.

clinic.

"Alright, this is our destination."

Toran took a deep breath: "Let me make this clear beforehand, this is a rather chaotic time for the Unarmored Alliance, so we've taken the opportunity to investigate a bit more aggressively. But even though my informant has been watching here for a long time, he hasn't found any other clues, and there's nothing noteworthy inside the clinic."

"While this should be the fastest place to receive information if the Business Federation wants to target Plot Zero... I still don't understand why you want to start with the clinic on Plot Zero, the list of infected you're looking for, and the contact person for Meshko. With your capabilities, going directly to the containment and treatment center would be more—"

Click.

The wind carried the sound of the lock being opened, unlocking the door that had been firmly locked in front of the two, and after circling from the ground to the underground, it transmitted all the information to Gerald himself.

Then, another gust of wind, carrying the message and incantation it wanted to convey, shot off into the distance from the sky.

"It's okay, I'm different from your informants."