Chapter 45

Chapter 45

Connecting this to Lann's earlier cryptic message about the audit bureau being untrustworthy, Edmund vaguely guessed what Albert had encountered, finding it harder to deceive him.

“Poor Albert, the tragic undercover agent~” Amos hummed a song he had just made up, “He abandoned justice, willingly embraced darkness, yet little did he know~ he came from that darkness~”

“Justice, oh justice~ what a laughable justice~”

“Pitiful and lamentable,” the man's tone changed, “Justice? Hahahaha~”

“Shut up!”

In Edmund's astonished gaze, Albert suddenly burst into flames, golden fire forming a gun-like shape in his hands.

But the gun never fully materialized. The blond man let out a painful cry, forced to deactivate his origin power.

Upon contact with the power, his body began showing obvious burn marks.

“Is this backlash?” Edmund exclaimed in surprise, but why so severe?

Gefel had briefed him during training that most people’s newly awakened origin powers weren't very strong and even if they were, they came with certain limitations. However, it was rare for someone’s power to backlash upon first awakening.

“It seems your power is related to ‘judgment,’ right?”

Amos stepped forward, crossing ten meters in an instant, kicking Albert who was struggling to get up, knocking him to the ground.

“What triggers the burning? Guilt? Sin? Negative emotions?”

Amos crouched down, his dark eyes brimming with unfathomable malice: “From your reaction, I guess it's a mix of all, isn't it?”

“Does that incident haunt you so much that even your powers have started to backlash? How pitiful, Mr. Righteousness, who saves no one.”

“How about I make you a proposal?”

Amos leaned close to Albert’s ear, whispering, “Lann is the core of our dear Leader's plan. If you kill him, perhaps the Leader’s plan will fail. What do you say? The lives of an entire city versus an unknown deity of evil, you wouldn't hesitate, would you?”

Suddenly, Amos stepped back half a meter, as a small knife embedded itself where he had just been standing. Edmund, tilting his head, stared at him: “What did you just say?”

“Ah, almost forgot about the loyal hound here.” Amos grinned mischievously, continuing to provoke, “The audit bureau is indeed full of talent, with seeds of cultists everywhere.”

Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang—

A series of gunshots rang out. Amos stood still, an invisible barrier deflecting the bullets for him. After the fifth shot, determining the gun was empty, the barrier disappeared. A small knife followed closely, which Amos narrowly dodged, frowning as a trace of blood appeared on his cheek.

“It's you…” Edmund drew several throwing knives, his face now painted with a jester's makeup, lips curled in a bright red sneer, “You're the man in black from that night. Perfect, I’ll kill you here~”

“What’s a little pup from the first layer saying?”

Amos yawned and sidestepped, evading Edmund's knives: “If I hadn’t been maintaining a spell that night, do you think you’d have even touched the hem of my coat?”

Edmund remained silent, his attacks growing fiercer, but just as Amos had said, he was always just a bit short.

That slight difference was the chasm between them.

Amos didn't counterattack, treating Edmund like a playful little dog, all the while leisurely urging Albert nearby: “Haven’t made up your mind yet, or are you simply afraid of dying?”

“What a pity, so many people in this city are about to die,” Amos smirked. “Yes, just like you once watched many of your trusting juniors die, this time you can only watch... as Arkham turns to ruins.”

Albert’s head twitched slightly.

Naturally, Amos didn’t miss this small movement. His lips curled up, about to say something more, when a silver-bladed knife flew towards his eye.

Dodging with a tilt of his head, Amos sighed and turned away: “You really are annoying.”

"Hmm?"

Amos' pupils contracted slightly, narrowly avoiding a knife aimed at his heart. If he hadn't been constantly on guard against this jester, he would have nearly met his downfall.

It wasn't that he was careless, but rather... Edmund's speed and reactions were getting faster.

"Strange..." Amos looked up at the sky and murmured, "Why can you enter the Rift of Dreams during the day?"

Edmund could no longer hear what he was saying.

In his mind, there was only one thought: to eliminate this enemy posing a threat to Lann.

He entered a trance-like state, recklessly rushing into the fog of the next level of stairs. The insane whispers surrounding him were shouting and murmuring in his ears. Edmund heard many voices calling his name – women's, men's, children's, his captain's, his own...

They were all calling him, urging him to turn back, not to move forward, for what lay ahead was not hope but an abyss.

The lantern in his hand flickered, as if indicating that his sanity was on the brink of being lost. But Edmund didn't care; he only needed one thing now – power!

"Edmund..."

That was Lann's voice.

As he stepped onto the second layer, Edmund instinctively turned his head, while at the same time, his lantern swayed briefly.

The last flicker of light went out.

In reality, the jester completely lost his sanity, staring at Amos with hysterical laughter.

Amos narrowed his eyes, watching the 'Hydrangea', a symbol of the soul, gradually enveloped by the fog, and couldn't help but softly exclaim, "What a madman."

But now, he had become a powerful madman.

The jester lunged forward, brandishing his dagger. Such a short weapon was actually not advantageous in close combat because its attack intent was too obvious and the distance it could harm was too short, giving the opponent ample time to dodge. This time was no different; Amos stepped to the right, avoiding the dagger's strike.

But bizarrely, the jester's wrist twisted unnaturally to the right at a ninety-degree angle, stabbing fiercely into Amos' shoulder with the same force.

Amos couldn't defend in time and had to step back to gain distance, but the jester relentlessly pursued him. Although he wasn't as fast as Amos, his movements were unpredictable, like a beast rather than a human controlling his body. To achieve his goal, the jester could move on all fours, stand upside down, or even attack with his teeth.

Even the most skilled acrobats couldn't match his agility.

No, it was more than just agility; he had surpassed human limits.

Amos watched his wrist bend and then straighten, deep in thought.

Generally, the deeper the layer in the Rift of Dreams, the stronger the abilities gained. This enhancement is not only in the expansion of origin powers but also in the physical capabilities of the body.

However, the second layer of the Rift of Dreams is an exception.

To be precise, it's the challenge of entering the second layer. While still in madness, the brain removes the usual limits on physical functions.

This means using muscles to their breaking point, disregarding the wear on ankles due to speed, and pushing the body’s cells to their self-healing limits.

It's like a car filled with gas, flooring the accelerator - either run till death or regain consciousness.

Unless there are artificial restrictions, such as forced injection of drugs, those lost in madness will continuously attack any living being around them until they either regain sanity or die.

Undeniably, in this state, combat power temporarily skyrockets to an extremely high level.

Lacking physical advantage, Amos had to resort to magic, but the jester, sensing this, would immediately close in and disrupt him, which was incredibly annoying.

Amos could use his reserves, but those powerful and one-time-use origin abilities were meant for his dear leader; how could he waste them here?

Unable to find a good solution, Amos clicked his tongue and, without hesitation, turned and ran.

Edmund gave chase.

"It's like having a clingy plaster behind you – fighting it is troublesome, but not fighting might cost lives. What to do?"

"Well, obviously, run away."

……

The group headed back towards the administrative building. Fortunately, there were no patrolling nurses below, just one room with a night shift light on and a drowsy security guard inside. They successfully sneaked into the building. But just as they entered, the hospital's PA system suddenly blared.

"Attention, please. There are outsiders in the hospital, and they have taken a critical patient, Lann. If you see any traces of outsiders in the hospital, please apprehend them immediately... oh no, I mean, capture them."

Black Cat and the Druid almost burst out laughing.

"What the heck? Apprehend? Weren't you about to say 'kill' just now???"

Perhaps realizing the slip-up, the PA broadcast was followed by a burst of static. The hospital seemed to come alive, the fog growing denser. The Druid and others even heard the night shift guard getting up, so they quickened their pace towards the second floor.

The hospital's archive room was on the second floor of the administrative building. The night was eerily quiet, with no one in sight – a situation that actually worked in their favor. They made their way smoothly to the archive room.

Naturally, the archive room was locked. Thankfully, due to Arkham Hospital's long history, the door hadn't been updated with a keypad lock, so now it was the familiar 'guess the key' part.

The second floor was so quiet that even the sound of the key entering the lock seemed loud. The Druid, catching a glimpse of a flashlight's beam in the stairwell, urged impatiently, "Hurry up!"

However, Algie remained calm and collected. With a twist of the key, the door opened instantly, and they quickly slipped inside.

Familiarly thrilling yet safe, everyone breathed a sigh of relief, waiting for the patrol's flashlight to pass by. Black Cat then cautiously took out his phone, using its dim light to survey the room.

Inside the archive room was just a desk and neatly organized bookcases filled with categorized files.

The Druid remembered their mission, with the main objective currently being: overthrow the director.

Clearly, the key to this mission was hidden among these medical records!

Black Cat, looking at the multitude of cabinets and files, couldn't help but feel overwhelmed.

In the game of role-playing, most actions require rolling dice, including searching for information. This is a significant part of routine investigations, so most experienced players have the 'Library' skill.

Not for any other reason but to avoid the tragedy of having a mountain of documents in front of me and being unable to find a clue because of an unlucky dice roll.

Skills aside, searching for the clues they needed in this massive pile of archives still seemed quite daunting.

At this moment, Lanen's voice chimed in: "The current head of Arkham Hospital took the position a year ago. Look for documents from this past year; photos would be ideal."

Druid: "Eh, the head has only been in office for a year? How did you know that?"

Lanen replied nonchalantly: "Heard it somewhere."

He often heard a lot about the hospital during his previous hospitalization, as many doctors and nurses came to visit, chatting and building rapport.

With a time frame in mind, searching for documents became much easier. Black Cat and Druid both received a system reward dice and began searching enthusiastically.

Lanen walked past several cabinets and noticed the labels on them.

'Medical Records'

These were newly added records; he began to search through them, intrigued.

Time seemed to pass without notice.

"Found it!" Druid's voice, filled with surprise, echoed from nearby.

Thank the heavens, thank the goddess of dice!

Druid had chosen 'Library' as an initial game skill but only had a meager 15 points due to wanting too many skills and having too few initial skill points. Even with the bonus dice, it took him nearly half an hour to find it.

"I've found something too." Black Cat joyfully held up a document with a color-printed photo attached.

The person in the photo, shaking hands with a top leader and smiling, was the 'head' Druid had previously encountered.

"With this, we can prove his identity, right?" Black Cat exclaimed excitedly.

"That's fantastic, what did you roll to find this?"

"Hehe, a stroke of luck."

Druid and Black Cat, arm in arm, wanted to share their joy of finding clues with Lanen, but noticed Archie looking solemnly at the document in his hand.

"What's this...?"

Archie handed over the document, and upon inspection, they discovered it was a collaboration file between the hospital and a pharmaceutical company.

"This pharmaceutical company was reported to the police before for incorrect drug components and was even sealed off several times," Archie explained. "Although nothing conclusive was found, many people protested outside the factory, claiming the drugs caused deaths."

Druid frowned: "This hospital collaborated with that company. Were there any incidents?"

"Let's search more."

Splitting up, they found several suspicious medical records; all were cases where the condition worsened after taking drugs from that company. However, these patients were quickly transferred, and their subsequent conditions were unknown.

"Wait, look at this record," Black Cat said. "Two patients who took the medication had deteriorating mental states and were admitted to the treatment area on the third floor. Later, one committed suicide, and the other died on the operating table."

The third floor... wasn't that where they had been before?

"No wonder the head's expression changed at the mention of the third floor," Druid murmured. "Such a big incident, and no one leaked it?"

"During that time, there was no news of this incident. Either the patient's family reached a private settlement with the hospital, or the doctors altered the medical records and prescription history, removing that suspicious drug," Archie said.

Druid recalled the newspaper he saw in the doctors' lounge and quickly shared this clue with them.

"A doctor committing suicide at home," Archie spoke gravely, "I remember now. There was such an incident, but the family refused an autopsy because it was a suicide. It made the news for a while but then was forgotten."

The clues gradually connected. The head of Arkham Hospital colluded with a corrupt pharmaceutical company, prescribing expensive medications to patients. After problems arose with patients who took these drugs, the partnership ended. How the company dodged inspection is another matter, but the hospital might have silenced its staff through threats, and some doctors or families were bribed to avoid trouble.

However, the two patients who died on the third floor had genuinely passed away.

Realizing this, Druid felt a heaviness in his heart. At this moment, he noticed someone was missing from their discussion.

"Hey, where's Lanen?"

Druid turned and found Lanen staring blankly at the medical record in his hand.

"Lanen? We've found evidence, finally a way to deal with that head!"

“……”

"Lan...en?"

Black Cat and Druid called out several times, but Lanen didn't respond. They exchanged worried looks. Archie, who was searching for information on the other side, also noticed and hesitated before stepping forward: "Lanen."

"Hmm?" Lanen snapped back to reality. "What's up?"

"Did you find something?"

"…Sort of." Lanen handed the document he was holding to Archie.

The players leaned in to look, and the content turned out to be Lanen's own medical record.

[Even the evil deity has a medical record.]

[Quite a convincing disguise.]

[Wait, look at this school!]

【！！！】

The audience in the bullet comments had spotted the oversight, and the players had too.

"Miskatonic University!" Druid, an avid fan of the Cthulhu mythos, blurted out.

"This world actually has this university!"

"Where is this university?"

Druid and Archie spoke simultaneously.

They glanced at each other, and Druid asked Lanen first, "You graduated from Miskatonic University!?"

As soon as he asked, he realized something was off. Why would a cradle for training investigators in the Cthulhu mythos produce an evil deity - wait a minute!

"Weren't you and Albert from the same university?" Archie asked, puzzled. "You both should have graduated from Arkham University, right? There's only one university in Arkham."

Lanen gently touched the words on the medical record, which clearly stated the fire occurred at Miskatonic University, not Arkham University.

And judging by Archie's reaction, he had never heard of this university either.

That was strange.

Could it be that this university doesn't actually exist?

Yet Lanen had a nagging feeling that wasn't the case. When he first saw this medical record, vague images had flashed through his mind, seemingly of a school engulfed in flames.

Although it was just a fleeting glimpse, the school in that image was starkly different from the one Albert had once taken him to. Unlike modern, sleek university buildings, the one in his memory was a gloomy, Gothic-style structure.

And why was the perspective in that image so strange? It was as if viewed from above, from the sky...

"So, is this university real or not?" Druid voiced the audience's question.

Lanen came back to reality, looking down at the medical record: "It should be real."

Archie interjected, "But there's no such university in reality."

"Reality," Lanen chuckled, "can also be altered."

In the late stages of the previous life's game, Arkham City disappeared. Except for a few individuals and players, it seemed as if the entire world had forgotten the existence of such a city.

The people living in Arkham City, and all traces of the city's existence, vanished as if they had never been, leading to another name among those who remembered – the Lost City.

What he hadn't anticipated was that besides this Lost City, a university had vanished first.

Players from the previous life occasionally complained to the officials: since they created Arkham, why not build a Miskatonic University within it?

Many veteran role-playing gamers harbored a fondness for Miskatonic University. If the game really had this university, players would surely be eager to return to its campus.

Before Lanen's transmigration, he had heard that a Miskatonic University map was in development, but he never got to see it, so he subconsciously believed it didn't exist in the game.

But now, it seemed things weren’t that straightforward?

"What do you mean by 'reality can change'?" Druid was perplexed.

"Haven't you encountered similar situations in reality already?" Lanen looked up, speaking indifferently, "A 'head' who isn't really the head."

"But isn't that a change in people's memories?"

"Yes, and do you know how the Dream World came to be?" Lanen rubbed the paper. "Dreams are a manifestation of the human subconscious. Human psyche is like an iceberg on the sea; our readily captured 'consciousness' is just the tip. Below the surface, the vast and unfathomable subconscious is the true bulk."

"The power of the subconscious is constrained by our minds and bodies when we are awake, manifesting only partially. It's only during dreams that the power of the subconscious is fully unleashed."

"Dreams connect with one another, not just for humans, but all sentient races' subconscious minds, creating a realm where gods exist – the Dream World."

"So," Lanen said, looking at the players with a hint of a smile, "in this world, daydreams might not just be simple daydreams."

"Reality influences dreams, and dreams, in turn, change reality."

"Idealism?" Druid pondered.

"Perhaps," Lanen lightly skipped over the topic, returning to the present. "The goal of the Strangers organization is to reach the Dream World. Clearly, they also intend to take this entire city along. Regrettably, this dangerous endeavor probably isn't their first."

"They succeeded once, resulting in Miskatonic University vanishing forever from this world," Lanen continued, "If they succeed again, it might be the entire Arkham that disappears."

This revelation stirred up another wave of discussion in the live stream.

[Lanen seems to have casually dropped another bombshell!]

[So that's it, the Dream World is formed by the subconscious... and my Miskatonic! How can my alma mater I've never attended disappear qwq]

[Sobbing, doesn't the developer know how to be human? Miskatonic map would've been a great selling point, disappearing before the game's public release, seriously, how do they do business? (annoyed)]

[Doesn't anyone care about Arkham? If the main mission fails, won't Arkham also vanish qwq]

[Sheesh, are these Strangers locals? Who packs so much when going home!]

[Exactly hhhh]

Druid, with a tense expression, seemed deeply immersed: "Then we must stop their wicked plan! If we expose the fake head and help the real one take over, he won't be able to control the hospital anymore."

Lanen nodded: "That should be the case."

In the past life, Arkham's fall began with this hospital replica. Now, both the hospital's anomaly and the painstakingly acquired 'head' position by Soren suggest this is the epicenter of the conspiracy.

...It should be right, no doubt.

But Lanen was puzzled: if this place was so crucial, why would Soren leave so easily instead of staying here to oversee things?