Chapter 278: The Sage's Robe

On this ship, most of the Beyonders were of the Mutant pathway; they who indulged their desires had all now slipped out of control, becoming "them."

"Every Mutant-pathway Beyonder is a potential madman."

Retaining his incomplete mythological creature form, Rekton whispered aloud, yet his voice sounded to the surrounding pirates like whispers from an evil god—merely hearing it, their minds began to disorder, gradually sinking into madness.

In this state, Rekton wantonly released his own corruption; he seemed very familiar with this way of doing things.

Eerie starlight permeated the air, and one shining star after another was like cold eyes peering at everything; they drilled into the deck, drilled into the walls, swiftly seeping into every corner of the Flesh Tree.

As the starlight spread, madness utterly swallowed the Flesh Tree.

Maintaining his incomplete mythological creature form, Rekton noticed nothing amiss—he had already sustained this form for over fifteen seconds.

This was something even Bernadette at Sequence Three could not do, and he felt no pressure whatsoever.

Rekton had become intoxicated by his own incomplete mythological creature form; he felt this was his true self, yet somehow incomplete.

I seem to understand the essence of knowledge—no, I am the essence of knowledge.

A "radiance" invisible to the vast majority of Beyonders emerged from an unknown place; this radiance had no substance, as though composed of stream after stream of vast, tangled information.

In an illusory guise, It surged forth from the Spirit World like a torrent, enveloping the entire Flesh Tree.

The layers of starlight continuously spreading outward with Rekton at their center were instantly frozen, then vanished into nothingness.

Where Rekton had originally stood, only a pool of writhing, curling pitch-black shadow remained; within this shadow were books forged of flesh, stacked one atop another, and upon the books, within the shadow, everywhere were eerie, indifferent eyes.

Rekton, fully submerged in his incomplete mythological creature form, seemed to suddenly blur; after a brief daze, he found himself again.

Only to discover that he had lost control of his body, as though his body had already vanished, leaving only his spirit still existing.

"What did I do? Something was wrong with my incomplete mythological creature form."

Before he had time to think it through, he felt his spirit grow hazy again, struck by waves of stabbing pain.

That illusory radiance composed of stream after stream of vast, tangled information wrapped him completely, seemingly re-correcting the errors that had appeared in him.

The pitch-black shadow retracted, eyes shutting tight and vanishing one by one, the stacked books reverted to flesh, mingling with the writhing blackness to reconstitute his body.

Rekton quietly sensed the changes in himself; though still a bit dazed, he could tell that the problems afflicting him had been resolved.

Even the effects and injuries he had sustained from the earlier battle with the Death Announcement had been repaired.

The faint sulfur smell that had always lingered in his nostrils, the recurring itch on his skin, the mottled rust stains he had concealed—all had vanished without a trace.

After reconstituting Rekton's body, that illusory radiance separated a small portion and draped it over him, gradually condensing from illusory knowledge into substance, becoming a pitch-black hooded robe.

Upon it was depicted a mysterious eye, an eye without lashes, surrounded by many symbolic signs overflowing outward, like knowledge flung far and wide.

Having resolved the problems on Rekton, the invisible illusory radiance moved like a torrent and in an instant plunged into the depths of the Spirit World, departing for an unknown place.

Only a pair of cold, indifferent, lashless eyes remained, containing countless dazzling stars.

Rekton looked at the symbolic signs before him that retained a portion of the Hidden Sage's consciousness, drew a deep breath, then bowed with great reverence and gave thanks:

"Thank you very much for your help; otherwise, I might have remained lost in that state and lost control entirely."

"When I displayed my incomplete mythological creature form earlier, it seemed different from normal circumstances. May I ask what caused this?"

That pair of cold, indifferent eyes gazed calmly at Rekton without any response; just as Rekton assumed the other would not answer his question, a voice—cold, utterly devoid of emotion, yet inexplicably familiar to him—sounded in his mind:

"Do not reveal your incomplete mythological creature form again before you separate the portion of characteristic that does not belong to you."

"When becoming an angel, you must first separate that characteristic."

The voice stopped abruptly here, and the symbolic signs before him that retained a portion of the Hidden Sage's consciousness also vanished without a trace in an instant.

Phew—With the Hidden Sage's complete departure, Rekton let out a long breath; whenever he faced the Hidden Sage directly, he would always feel inexplicably nervous, even knowing the other bore him no ill will.

Only then did he have the energy to ponder the problem he had just encountered: Was the accident just now caused by the Reader-pathway characteristic still inside me? I feel like that isn't the complete answer—what else is the Hidden Sage unwilling to tell me?

He then looked down at the pitch-black robe draped over him; when the Hidden Sage pulled him back from his near-out-of-control incomplete mythological creature form, he had been naked.

Even thoughtfully prepared a robe for me, so I wouldn't run around naked? This robe made directly by the Hidden Sage could be considered a mystical item, right?

He then extended his right hand, tugging at the black robe on his body, focused his gaze, emptied his mind, and performed a simple divination.

Information about the robe on his body surfaced in his mind:

It can record one's own state and reset that state onto the wearer after thirty seconds, simultaneously clearing all positive and negative conditions acquired during that period; it can only be used once per day.

One can also use Beyonder materials to draw special symbolic signs and magical sigils on the robe, treating it as a reusable magic scroll.

The negative effect is that it must be soaked in blood bearing spirituality every day; each time it is used, a unique strange symbol must be drawn upon it.

Why does it feel like the main reason the Hidden Sage gave me this robe is that he thinks I court death too much!

After a moment's reflection, he withdrew his gaze and surveyed the situation aboard the Flesh Tree anew; he could clearly sense that there was no longer any sign of life on this ship.

The Hidden Sage's sudden descent had driven those aboard who barely survived the first wave of corruption straight into madness and loss of control, collapsing silently and unnoticed.

As Rekton's gaze swept across, on some corpses, pale or deep-glowing motes of light had already begun to separate out—some fusing with their scattered organs, some fusing with nearby objects, still others gathering together on their own.

"A bumper harvest of Mutant-pathway characteristics! What a pity they all bear the mark left by the Mother Tree of Desire, so they can't be used directly."

He sighed briefly, then a purple halo shimmered in his eyes; his gaze passed through the deck and layers of walls, swiftly scanning the captain's cabin belonging to Senior and the Flesh Tree's collection room.

The next moment, his figure turned instantly transparent, then dissolved into swirling points of dazzling starlight, surging in a swarm toward the captain's cabin, passing through the tiny gaps in walls, doors, and windows.

Inside the captain's cabin belonging to Senior, motes of starlight reassembled, and Rekton's figure reappeared.

Under the vision of the Eye of Secrets, he easily identified the mystical items among Senior's collection, excluding those that were of little use or might attract the attention of that divine scion of the Rose School.

He raised his hand slightly, scattering a wash of dazzling starlight; twinkling stars covered the items he had selected, then instantly contracted, solidifying into translucent ambers that temporarily sealed everything within.

He then waved his hand again, and invisible giant hands appeared, picking up all the sealed items and tossing them into the shadow behind Rekton.

That shadow was like a bottomless pool of dark water; objects were thrown in one by one, without raising a single ripple.

He then gave the captain's cabin a brief scan, looking for valuable items or books.

As the Rose School's spokesman on the sea, Senior was clearly no lover of reading; his captain's cabin held, apart from a few potion formulas, little related to knowledge.

However, the wealth he had plundered was indeed substantial; even after surrendering the greater portion to the Rose School, the remaining fortune was still considerable.

At least for a lone wolf like me with no faction of his own, it's considerable. I need to start saving money too—the Southern Continent will probably be a bottomless pit.

"I wonder how the Rose School will handle Senior's affair?"

"However, the pirates aboard the Flesh Tree can all be considered to have died under the Hidden Sage's influence; under this near-true-god level of suppression, they couldn't investigate anything at all."

As he murmured to himself, he had already manipulated an invisible giant hand to sweep all the valuable items nearby into the pitch-black shadows behind him.

Immediately, his figure suddenly turned transparent, once again transforming into surging specks of brilliant starlight, passing through layer after layer of floors, plundering the wealth aboard the Flesh Tree one by one.

After ransacking the Flesh Tree, Rekton instinctively wanted to pull a paper figure from his robe and toss it into the shadows behind him, but the hand reaching into his black robe instead touched the somewhat warm skin of his own abdomen.

Hmm... He froze for a moment before realizing that the items he carried had vanished along with his clothes under his out-of-control incomplete mythological creature form.

Then he glanced at the dark, profound shadows behind him, pondered briefly, and extended his right hand. His left index finger traced lightly across it, leaving a trail of pale blue starlight that slowly faded, whereupon blood welled forth.

With his left hand smeared with blood, he swiftly drew interconnected symbolic marks and magical sigils upon his black robe.

Then he infused spirituality, and the robe on his body fluttered despite the absence of wind. It seemed to extend an extra segment that did not exist, enveloping that expanse of dark, profound shadow.

(End of this chapter)