Chapter 1281 Scarlet Glow <TOC> Chapter 1283 Living Dead
Translator: SumTLMan
Angel meticulously recounted the “dream” he had when he was unconscious.
After finishing, he was left pondering, “Was this truly a dream?”
If it was indeed a dream, why would Sanders know about the descent into the Abyss? And that doll — he clearly saw Sanders picking it up earlier.
Moreover, Angel felt that his experience at that time was incredibly authentic, unlike any dream. The haze of being bound in his thoughts, the despair when trapped, and the discomfort from the relentless onslaught of negative energy — all these memories were vivid in his mind.
It didn’t feel like a dream at all; it seemed like a firsthand experience.
“It’s similar to a dream. However, compared to dreams, I think ‘Vision Space’ created by a Mysterious Object is a more apt description,” Sanders responded.
Vision Space? Although Sanders didn’t elaborate on its meaning, Angel instantly understood. Within the realm of illusion transformations, there exists a subsect known as the True Illusion.
True Illusion stands at the intersection of reality and fantasy — a confluence where true and false are indistinguishable. Wizards who align with this subsect are undoubtedly adept at discerning the essence of things and grasping the hearts of people.
Thus, the meaning of ‘Vision Space’ became clear. Dreams are inherently ethereal. However, in a Vision Space, it’s hard to differentiate what’s real from what’s illusory. This means it not only contains figments but also tangible realities.
From his experience the previous night, what was genuine, and what was illusory?
Facing Angel’s doubts, Sanders calmly replied, “Truth and illusion are relative. As someone who experienced it firsthand, perhaps you can share your own judgment.”
Angel reflected for a moment, attempting to decipher his experience from the previous night: “The disordered world was illusory, but my thoughts were real; the images tempting me to fall were illusory, but the dark shadowy monster was real; the fall into the Abyss was illusory, yet the negative energies present were real.”
Having said that, Angel paused and looked at Sanders with a questioning gaze.
Sanders shook his head, “It seems you haven’t grasped what I meant. You should reflect on what I said earlier.”
“What did Mentor mean?” Though Angel was awash in uncertainty, since waking up, Sanders had spoken very little. Reflecting on every word, Angel believed there might be a clue.
Angel began to sift through the words in his memory, trying to unravel and clarify each statement.
Yet, no clues emerged until a particular phrase Sanders had uttered sprang to mind: “Speak of your experiences last night… falling into the Abyss.”
Angel’s head snapped up, “Was the descent into the Abyss real?”
Sanders neither nodded nor shook his head but calmly stated, “To be precise, all your experiences from yesterday were illusions. Only the descent into the Abyss was genuine.”
“In truth, I’m unaware of what you went through last night. But regarding the Abyss, not only did I witness it firsthand, but I also saw your consciousness being dragged towards its dark maw.”
With this revelation, Angel grasped the gravity: The ultimate goal of the Abyss was to pull him in. Meaning, while the entire journey might be an elaborate facade, its final objective was the sole reality.
“Did I escape the Abyss because of Mentor?” A sudden recollection struck Angel, “Was it that doll?”
“You must’ve deduced the doll’s significance by now,” Sanders intimated without specifying, continuing, “The negative energy emanating from the Abyss, filled with Mysterious Feeling, wanted to assimilate you, and no other means could effectively dispel it.”
“So, I made some calculations and decided to unleash the resentment within the doll. By establishing a balance, I was able to awaken you.”
Sanders presented it as if it were straightforward, even downplaying the gravity of it all, as if it were of little consequence.
However, Angel, having lived through the ordeal, could intimately sense the intricacies. Sanders’ casual ‘calculation’ undoubtedly required a grand perspective and precise deliberation to, in a split second, strike a terrifying balance between the released resentment and the negative energy spewing from the Abyss.
If control is elusive, or if something went wrong, the malice released by the Grudge Doll not only fails to establish a delicate balance of terror, but it also impacts Angel, even expediting his descent into the Abyss.
From this detail alone, one can fathom the dreadfulness of what Sanders has accomplished. It’s not just his raw power but also his razor-sharp judgment of the situation, impeccable strategizing, and unyielding execution.
If even a single element was missing, Angel might not have escaped his looming fate.
Reflecting on this, Angel expressed his sincere gratitude to Sanders, “If it weren’t for your guidance, I might not have seen the light of today.”
Leon, who had been standing nearby and listening to the entire conversation, might not have grasped the intricacies of the peril. However, he knew that Angel’s salvation was all thanks to Sanders and looked at him with appreciative eyes.
Sanders remarked nonchalantly, “I merely tied up a loose end for you. The real savior was yourself. Had you not used that mask to resist during your confrontation with the Scarlet Sovereignty, you’d probably have plunged straight into the Abyss without any subsequent fight for survival.”
Upon hearing this, Angel covered his right eye with his hand.
Little had he realized that the fleeting spiritual epiphany at that moment had become the pivotal key to his salvation.
During his previous experience in the “True Illusion Space,” the green rune had once resisted the darkness. Perhaps it was symbolic of the moment he activated his right eye.
However, Angel still harbored some doubts. Why exactly did the spiritual epiphany manifest then? Was it a premonition of a wizard’s intuition, or was someone else pulling the strings behind the scenes?
Angel couldn’t find an answer, but judging by the outcome, things turned out for the best.
“So it seems that the mask created by activating the right eye with magic possesses some form of intangible protective function?” Angel mused to himself, thinking it might be wise to advance the testing plans.
“Let’s not dwell on these trivialities,” Sanders interrupted. “Having heard your account, I’m fairly certain that the effect of the Scarlet Sovereignty is to drag one into the Abyss. This aligns with my earlier suspicions.”
Yet, Angel hadn’t truly entered that Abyss. Thus, they were still in the dark about the real effects of the Scarlet Sovereignty.
But what’s beyond dispute is that the Abyss is saturated with an overwhelming amount of malevolent energy. If one’s consciousness were dragged into its depths, it would undoubtedly manifest distortions.
Perhaps, just like Eureka, they might spiral into madness.
As they pondered, Leon, who had been silent all along, suddenly remarked, “If you are referring to the effects brought about by that red light, I might have some insights.”
Angel and Sanders exchanged a glance and turned their attention to Leon.
…
After a while, Angel adjusted his attire and left the room.
Leon led the way, with Angel and Sanders following a step behind.
Sanders seemed deeply intrigued by the surroundings of Angel’s upbringing, observing every detail along the way. Angel, on the other hand, gazed upon familiar murals and corridors, a hint of sorrow in his eyes.
The murals had gathered dust, and the carpeting of the hallway was not only frayed at the edges but missing in places.
Where the carpet was absent, the granite floor bore dark, unmistakable stains. With Angel’s acute perception, he instantly identified them as——bloodstains.
From these clues alone, Angel could deduce the severity of the recent turmoil that had befallen the castle.
Descending from the upper floors, there was no absence of dust, and in the corners of the ceilings, Angel even spotted cobwebs. Throughout their journey, they encountered no servants. Just as Auchanchan had mentioned earlier, some had been sent to Grud Town, while the fate of others remained ominous.
With that thought, several familiar faces flashed across Angel’s mind — servants he was deeply connected with during his time at Pat Mansion, whom he regarded not just as friends but as family.
A lump formed in Angel’s throat, uncertain how to inquire about their current state.
“The décor here is intriguing in places,” Sanders suddenly remarked as Angel was lost in his thoughts. “The patterns beneath this mural, and these blue and white porcelain pieces with their curious designs, are quite unique in style.”
Leon remarked, “That’s the aesthetic of Jon’s hometown. My father was quite fond of it, so he incorporated it into our home’s decor.”
Sanders surmised the origin of these artifacts. While the Goldfinch Empire does have its distinct style, it doesn’t stray far from the mainstream. Yet, these pieces showcased an entirely different ethos.
Observing these unique designs, Sanders became intrigued by this “otherworlder” he had yet to meet.
Soon, Leon led them through the hallway to the annex.
They paused in front of the grandest, most ominous door in the annex.
“It seems like…” Angel gazed at the door, a wave of nostalgia washing over him, taking him back to his childhood.
As a mischievous child, Angel always loved to challenge authority. If adults forbade something, he was driven to do it. And this door was once strictly off-limits, as commanded by Old Pat. But for Angel, “strictly off-limits” practically meant “you must explore.”
One night, seizing an opportune moment when the servants weren’t looking, Angel sneaked in.
To his surprise, behind the door lay a vast basement filled with securely locked wine barrels. Finding nothing of interest, Angel decided to exit, only to discover the door had been bolted from the outside.
It was a long and eerily silent night. Young Angel, then a mere child, shivered under the dim wall lamp, staring fearfully into the abyss beyond its light, half-expecting monsters to emerge from the shadows. That night of dread seemed endless.
Reflecting on it now, it feels like A Haunting Nightmare.
The next day, when the door was finally unlocked, Angel realized it had all been a ruse set up by his father, Old Pat, designed to curb his rebellious streak and penchant for going against the grain.
The evidence was undeniable, revealing a clear outcome. Since that incident, Angel had become exceedingly cautious in his actions, treading with a delicacy of one navigating a field of delicate porcelain.
Yet, the basement had become a place he never ventured into again, as though it were a dark, lingering shadow in the recesses of his memories.
By the time he matured and the fear of that basement faded, he still avoided it. In those days, his time was consumed with caring for the ailing Jon. Eventually, he departed the Old Land Continent, and the memory of that basement grew distant, like an old tale left behind.
“This is Old Pat’s wine cellar, have you forgotten?” Leon teased with a playful glint in his eyes. “Remember when you were locked in here as a child? I sat outside, hearing your cries echo throughout the night.”
A shadow crossed Angel’s face, and with steely resolve, he retorted, “I didn’t cry.”
Leon was ready to jest further, but a sudden faint whimper from behind the door interrupted him. His playful demeanor slowly melted into one of melancholy. Finally, he sighed and conceded, “Alright, you didn’t cry. Perhaps my ears deceived me.”
“It’s time for serious matters,” Leon shifted the topic. “You were asking about the effects of the red light?” Pointing at the door adorned with heavy locks, he intoned gravely, “The answer lies within.”