Within the enormous circus tent, beneath the towering dome, the lighting was dim, the air stifling and suffocating.
The seats below were packed with people standing shoulder to shoulder, their faces rigid with madness. The moment the massive steel beast appeared, their frenzied cheers reached a crescendo.
A low, rumbling roar mingled with the chaotic human voices, sending chills down one's spine.
On stage, the dismembered corpses inexplicably vanished, unnoticed by anyone. The audience seats gained yet another fervent figure.
Their shouts, their cries formed wave after wave of spiritual tremors. The howling spirituality clung like maggots to bone, infecting every Beyonder present.
The Beyonders held their breath, heads bowed in silence.
They sealed away their spirituality, enduring the marionettes' eerie ravings—words imbued with a maddening, infectious power.
With the emergence of this miracle, the previously wavering dome now stood firm once more, stronger than before.
The mystical forces within this place had intensified yet again.
---
"And then I was thrown out," Olson finished recounting his ordeal, still visibly shaken.
When that steel beast assembled from countless intricate parts began moving, darkness had swallowed him whole. When he opened his eyes again, he found himself at the circus entrance.
"That magician turned into a pile of mush in the end. Honestly, I thought I'd be killed outright—I was already prepared to die. I never expected to actually make it out."
He looked at Don solemnly. "I owe you my life, Don."
"I was gambling too," Don admitted frankly.
Uncertain of the situation inside, he could only make educated guesses based on his understanding of a Miracle Invoker's abilities.
Fortunately, this truly was a sealed artifact formed from the Beyonder characteristics of a deceased entity—not a Miracle Invoker digesting a potion or some other scenario.
"Sealed Artifact 0-32, 'Theater With Curtains That Never Draw' It originated from the War of the Four Emperors. According to records, it should be sealed behind the Door of Sealing in the Church of Storms—but that was during the Fifth Epoch, after Zhou Mingrui's descent, not the current Fourth Epoch."
Sealed artifacts generally didn't grow legs. Had someone brought this artifact to Tingen?
Or had it coincidentally developed the ability to move on its own and wandered here?
Don attempted to divine whether there was imminent danger, only to fail.
With a high-sequence Seer pathway artifact interfering nearby and insufficient prerequisites, his failed divination wasn't hard to understand.
'Still, this means we have to guard against not just the clearly unstable sealed artifact, but also whoever's pulling the strings behind it.'
After some thought, Don prepared to enter and investigate.
"Don?" Olson stared at him, horrified. "You're not actually planning to go in, are you?"
"Why not?" Don forced a relaxed tone. "Clearly, this thing follows its own logic—it's most likely an out-of-control mystical item."
"From your description, making it manifest difficult-to-achieve miracles can effectively weaken its power. I can give it a try. At worst, I'll just get tossed out like you did."
Olson: "...You're insane."
"Thanks for the compliment." Don smiled, then nodded to the black-armored knight nearby. "I'm heading in, then."
The knight remained silent but nodded. Just then, Olson suddenly exclaimed, "Wait!"
Before Don could react, Olson shoved something into his hands.
It was a palm-sized book with a coppery-green cover, inscribed with an ancient Feysac phrase:
"I came, I saw, I record."
Don stared at the book in his hand, momentarily speechless.
"This is a mystical item I possess, equivalent to the Apprentice pathway's Sequence 6: Scribe," Olson explained.
Don thought to himself, No need to explain—I know how this works better than you do.
What are the odds?
"It's already recorded two travel abilities," Olson continued hastily after explaining the item's usage and side effects. "Also, one banishment at the Demigod level."
This was the Apprentice pathway's Sequence 4: Secret Sorcerer ability—banishing a target to another dimension, an extremely potent power for expelling threats.
Two travels, one demigod-tier banishment.
Don nodded solemnly and accepted the gift.
"I won't go in with you. Honestly, my legs are still weak."
Don patted Olson's shoulder, then headed toward the circus entrance.
Olson stood still for a moment before the black-armored knight—Owen—also patted his shoulder, making him wince. "If you're tired, you can rest at the inn first. I'll keep watch here."
"Let's hope nothing goes wrong," Olson murmured, rubbing his shoulder.
Owen neither agreed nor disagreed.
His younger brother had always been like this—sometimes...
Within the dark armor, Owen's eyes flickered, his hands involuntarily clenching into fists.
He needed more power.
---
The moment the cheers, the jubilant cries, and the sight of a surging crowd assaulted his senses, Don felt his trypophobia acting up.
Through the vision of Spirit Body Threads, countless threads twisted like braids toward the lofty dome—so densely packed and overlapping that their source was impossible to discern.
"System."
[Host, I'm here.]
"Perform appraisal."
[Appraisal initiated. Automatically deducting 1 appraisal count. Remaining: 143.]
[Appraisal failed. Reason: Target cannot be a mystical construct of Sequence 2 or above. Please use appraisal counts judiciously and elevate your sequence level.]
Failure was something Don had anticipated.
Watching his own Spirit Body Threads drift involuntarily toward the dome, Don began manipulating them to prevent their capture by whatever force lurked above.
'This scene is so similar to the ancient palace in the Hornacis Mountain Range. Did this Miracle Invoker also enjoy hanging people up like sausages when alive?'
The thought even amused Don slightly.
The interior and exterior spaces of the circus were completely disproportionate—but then again, this was a world with mysticism. Such phenomena weren't rare.
Though—what would happen if an Angel of the Arbiter pathway used a reality-enhancing decree here?
Would everyone get compressed into a meat pie?
Don shook his head and found an endlessly extending row of empty seats, taking one.
His gaze turned to the stage, where a woman in classical robes was being subjected to a knife-throwing act by an exaggeratedly made-up clown.
The woman was tied to a giant rotating wheel as the blindfolded clown hurled gleaming daggers backward.
Each blade narrowly missed her body, embedding itself into the wheel with a resonant hum.
The woman's face was deathly pale, clearly terrified—yet incredibly lucky so far, having avoided injury entirely.
(Chapter End)