Chapter 383

The lingering piano melody continued.

It was just not very clear.

In the dream world at hand, under the dominion of Ms. Morgan's "Court" system of great magic, various beautiful dream scenes were spliced together, forming a kaleidoscopic, intricate space.

Different beautiful dreams were like different worlds, distinct from each other, so much so that even sound struggled to transmit.

At this moment, even if the piano piece was merely an indistinct echo, it still managed to convey that intuitive sense of dissonance.

But at this very moment, a certain head nurse spoke bluntly: "You take over here, no problem?"

She had surveyed her surroundings since being pulled from the dream by Aomo, and upon landing, she uttered this sentence, causing everyone else to turn and look.

Aomo also blinked slightly, not expecting someone to want to leave the team just as they arrived.

But he quickly understood.

"You want to go rescue the wounded?"

Knowing the historical deeds of this Miss Nightingale, it was not hard to guess this.

Moreover, in his otherworldly memories, this point had numerous overly vivid and clear examples.

"Exactly," said Miss Nightingale, not wanting to waste a single moment, merely staring at Aomo, treating him outright as the team leader, "May I?"

If they could not subdue the rioters, merely aiding the wounded would be treating symptoms, not the root cause; the head nurse was not unaware of this principle.

But upon seeing Frederick III and Morgan le Fay, she felt she ought to rush toward reality instead.

"Permission granted, go." Likewise not wasting time, Aomo merely gave a slight nod, then turned and stepped toward the direction of the piano sound.

The duke and the poet beside him also followed at the same time.

Though he similarly agreed that now was the moment for a decisive, split-second judgment, he still had a small hitch at present.

It caused his steps to pause after only two strides.

All three turned back, looking toward the woman still standing in place.

"You shouldn't be here to stockpile some long-range magic, should you?" Aomo frowned.

And that motionless witch, merely gripping her long staff and standing afar, simply smiled and asked:

"Do I have a reason that absolutely requires me to intervene?"

"... If so, then while in the audience seats, please still be careful."

After a brief hesitation, feeling the chance of persuading her was slim, Aomo simply turned back, not bothering to notice her even more subtle smile upon hearing his words.

Morgan's absence from direct command was of no consequence, after all, he also truly did not know how far the other could go.

Rather, being able to bind dreams was already a great help, and he had no reason to keep demanding she do something.

Whether by the greater good or morality, it might not convince that incomplete image of the demoness in his memory.

Frankly, he felt Miss Ling should suffice, although he would rather act himself.

Then he heard Miss Ling suddenly utter: "Mr. Lindon."

"What is it? You'd better not say you also want to quit the team."

Just thinking of this possibility, Aomo could not help feeling he had been thoroughly played.

Would anyone really want to see a demon throw punches smashing apostles?

Though hearing this at first did carry a hint of religious fatalism.

But in fact, without the output of monster cards, he also lacked confidence in shattering that AT field thing.

"Of course not," said Ling, made to laugh and cry by the other's wary gaze, "I merely want to ask what you plan to do."

"Isn't the team leader Shi Huaiya?"

Miss Nightingale finding herself to report was fine, but why did you also come running to ask me about my action plan?

Although Aomo's steps did not stop, his gaze returned to observing and confirming the surroundings.

But while saying this, he still could not help a twitch at the corner of his mouth.

"Miss Shi said, in the dream, she heard your instructions."

"...? I believe Miss Ling's experience, compared to mine, is only more, not less."

"Having heard those two troublesome sisters say so much, I too would like to witness Mr. Lindon's abilities."

"Having said so much," this phrase is truly terrifying...

Whether this refers to Miss Xi or Miss Nian, it makes Aomo feel a chill down his spine.

To be frank, his impression of Miss Xi has been, since their first meeting, a consistently cold-faced demeanor, as if silently saying "Don't bother me."

One could say she is taciturn, or say she is cold toward people, dislikes socializing; in his few greetings and interactions with her, all revealed a silent implication of "It's really troublesome for me to have to speak with you."

Aomo estimated that, were it not for the shared experience of having dealt with merchants together in front of the sculpture exhibition hall, she would likely completely ignore him.

And Miss Nian...

She is warm-hearted, but this warmth is of the same nature as an archangel.

Even more so.

After all, archangels still have work, still need to labor, and their own abilities are limited, making it hard to cause too much trouble.

But Miss Nian... seems to have been idle all along.

Not only idle, but in every sense, her capabilities are considerable!

Although Aomo could not access her file with its high security clearance, he could still find the staff's detailed knowledge of Miss Nian's deeds.

Things like trash film conglomerates, whatever the society's explosions—just looking at them feels like an old person's phone on the subway.

In terms of personality, Aomo tends to believe the latter occupies a larger part of what Ling mentioned, though the current focus is not here.

"Perhaps it will disappoint you, Miss Ling, I am merely a nineteen-year-old youth."

"No matter, young people should just go ahead and do it; even if I do it poorly, I can take responsibility for handling it, isn't there still that old gentleman beside you?"

Saying this, she smiled at Aomo and at Vlad III on the other side.

In the previous dream segment, she hadn't been trapped at all—instead, she was everywhere, drinking hair wine, and naturally saw everyone's dreams.

The beautiful dream pursued subconsciously is enough to reveal a person's inner self.

She naturally wouldn't have her horizons limited by a title like Berserker; after seeing the dreams of Florence Nightingale and Vlad Țepeş, she intuitively grasped their true nature.

Longing for serene beauty is enough to display the nobility of each other's character, and also to perceive the other's amiable kindness.

But old man and such……he isn't really old either……between the two of you, it's also unclear who has more history……

Aomo was somewhat speechless, really wanting to take a look at that dragon girl who blocked his retreat with just one sentence.

But right now, the three of them have already arrived at an indoor place, the piano sound is exceptionally clear, this is probably the target's beautiful dream, leaving no room for distraction in his field of view.

The tall man beside him, gripping a long spear, also responded in kind.

"Well, go ahead and do it, kid."

No, don't go along with her polite talk—if you truly fail, the other party won't hesitate to turn their AT field into a barrage of ejection cannons, and your mental fortitude might not withstand it!

Perhaps you can't even break through their AT field, even if you resort to the vampiric power of innocent monsters……

…Huh?

……It seems unnecessary.

Upon thinking of the attack mode of the A-rank Noble Phantasm named Extreme Punishment King, Aomo's eyes lit up instantly.

With each strike the gun in his hand inflicts on an enemy, it generates the concept of "already pierced," and then stakes will appear emanating outward from the heart as the starting point……

——This move entirely belongs to the kind that's rather underhanded, with a high success rate on first sight, a killing skill.

Although the power of a single stake is low, as long as one hit lands, it will temporarily add "penetration"-caused continuous damage, and furthermore, as long as the gun tip pierces once, stakes may even generate from within the enemy's body to pierce through……

Although Dracula's legend is false, the terrifying reputation of the Impaler is real; Vlad Uncle's Extreme Punishment King Noble Phantasm, if it lands the first round, has an extremely high chance of chaining into a second round.

Wooden stakes erupting directly from within……even if it's a humanoid apostle, facing this kind of attack would leave them flustered.

But the biggest problem lies in how to make the opponent get stabbed by a gunshot.

The precondition for this first-strike kill is still that you must land at least one thrust.

If it were a Servant battle, frankly, many Servants wouldn't care much about a single wound, and then……then there probably wouldn't be a "then."

Large apostles are largely the same.

They might be wary of the high-vibration particle "short dagger" over ten meters long, but not necessarily raise their AT field against a genuine fruit knife.

But the opponent……is clearly a youth in human form.

Wearing shoes estimated at size 39—Aomo's gaze swept over the shoe cabinet.

Height around 1.7 meters——he withdrew his attention from the door frame, from the table height.

Free Apostle, Nagisa Kaworu, since living in human form, would obviously not allow himself to be stabbed by a spear capable of killing ordinary people.

His AT field defense can likely cover all directions……Aomo searched through the information he had gathered.

Lifestyle: dry and clean hygiene, or rather, plain and pallid, lacking personality——he scanned this grand hall.

On the hall's table, there weren't many ornaments; the wall decorations were pitifully few; passing by the bedrooms, one could see medicine bottles and a few daily necessities on the nightstands.

There weren't many things that could make this person display any individuality.

The place where he doesn't seem like a doll largely lies in his love for music.

He stepped onto the stairs, raised his hand to signal the two beside him to stand by.

Modern tactical gestures—a duke of the Principality of Valeria and a drunken wanderer of Dongyan, a poet, would largely not understand.

But Aomo believes they each, in this world, this era, during the days they spent here, were not utterly unadaptive, unchanging.

After all, when Aomo first met the two, Vlad Țepeş and Ling's attire were actually quite ordinary.

Unlike now, where the former wears a black coat like formal attire, the latter dons modern yet not devoid of ancient charm functional wind long coat and short pants.

What kind of concept is the so-called ordinary?

It is the concept of blending into the environment, known as everyday wear, also called private clothes.

Usually, when a person wants to wear certain clothes, it's not decided by themselves, but rather determined by where and when they are.

At a ball, you need an evening gown;

In a company, you need a uniform;

And as a horse girl, you would largely expect to wear the victory outfit in the appropriate occasion.

A set of clothes that can blend into the current environment is itself a kind of decision.

You want to live here, you want to blend in among them, while simultaneously losing part of your persistence toward the existing state.

And learning this behavior, in itself, is a kind of change, a kind of adaptation.

So at this moment, he indeed saw both of them nod.

Miss Ling even raised her hand, covered by her black leather long glove, and made an 'OK' gesture.

Then let it be so……

Likewise making a slight OK gesture, Aomo continued climbing the stairs with steps as silent as possible, also as smooth as possible, heading toward the location of that complete four-hand piano piece.