“It can only last for a little over a minute… This is too short…” Klein had a flash of thought and without thinking about anything else, he walked to the desk in two steps.

He put down "Groselle's Travels", picked up "0-08", and quickly wrote on a piece of white paper:

“George III intends to use this speech to lure out all the enemies who want to disrupt his rituals. But if everything goes well and nothing unexpected happens, he will take the opportunity to take the magic potion, reveal his trump card, and impact the divine rank. After all, there are too many unknowns in the future, and there is no insurance either. Moreover, his current preparations are complete and adequate.

“This is a very reasonable development.”

After putting down the last period, Klein had no time to carefully check the content for errors before the slightly dim feather pen in his hand disappeared silently, as if it had never been there or existed.

And those few short sentences seemed to drain Klein's energy, causing him to feel a little dizzy. He had no choice but to take a few steps back and sit down on a chair.

“It doesn’t make sense… I didn’t see how exhausted and exhausted Ince Zangwill was at the time… Well, it should be because I summoned it forcefully and didn’t dare let ‘0-08’ weave the story on its own. When writing, I had to rely entirely on my own spiritual support. Ince Zangwill could get the cooperation of ‘0-08’, so the consumption would not be that great…” Klein closed his eyes and meditated for a while, and finally calmed down.

Under normal circumstances, he had no actual contact with "0-08" and had only met it once, so it was impossible for him to summon this "0" level seal. However, on the one hand, he had the blessing of the "Snake of Fate" himself, and on the other hand, he had "Groselle's Travels", which was an item left by "Dragon of Imagination" Angerweed. It contained the "City of Miracles" Levished, and had some deep connection with "0-08" - if it weren't for the interference of some high-level beings, these two items would have met long ago.

Klein didn't know whether this connection between fate and traits could increase the probability of a successful summoning, but he thought that he wouldn't lose anything by giving it a try, and it actually worked.

It was also because of this that he did not dare to use "Groselle's Travels" to carry the contents of the "0-08" projection writing, and he did not even dare to let them get close, fearing that some unstoppable and unbearable accidents would happen.

This is Backlund, the population density is extremely high!

"Well, logically speaking, there shouldn't be any surprises. After all, '0-08' is an image in the gaps of history, it's fake. 'Groselle's Travels' was manifested by the 'Imagination Dragon', it's also fake. Fakes combined with fakes can never be real. It lacks the material basis of extraordinary characteristics... I can go to an uninhabited reef island to experiment later..." Klein rubbed his forehead, stood up, returned to the desk, and examined the text he had just written.

He did not write directly that George III failed in his promotion and died on the spot because he thought that on the Interference Sequence 1 Angel, the projected "0-08" could not be so direct and had to be more euphemistic.

Moreover, there is the Psychological Alchemy Society and Amon's brother on the other side. An influence that is too obvious will inevitably be noticed and easily exploited. Klein can only be more roundabout and focus on reducing unknowns.

“I hope it’s useful…” After staring at it for a while, Klein folded the paper and stuffed it into his pocket.

Then, he sacrificed "Groselle's Travels" back to the gray fog.

After finishing these things, Klein began to think about another question, which was when to go out and buy ice cream for Will Auceptin.

"There's Zaratul in Backlund, and there's probably Amon as well. If I go out too much, I might run into them. It's a bit dangerous... How about summoning ice cream for Will from the historical pores? It feels real when you eat it, and it will disappear after a quarter of an hour. There's no need to worry about getting fat. It's just too wonderful..." Klein couldn't help but mutter a few words in his heart.

Finally, he decided to change his clothes and go out, because one must keep his promises!

…………

On Saturday morning, the sky was gray and foggy, making people feel depressed for no reason.

This was a common sight in Backlund in late winter. Although there was not as much thick smog and pungent smell as last year, the geographical environment and climate characteristics meant that similar situations would inevitably exist for a long time. Moreover, controlling air pollution could never be declared a success in just one or two years.

Melissa put on a knee-length black tweed coat over her long skirt, put on a hat with black gauze hanging down, and walked quickly to the door.

Benson held up his hat and shook his head.

"A girl under 20 should dress like someone under 20. This is too mature and old-fashioned. Do you understand? Old-fashioned."

Melissa glanced at her brother and simply replied:

"Bread has gone up another quarter a penny a pound."

"These prices..." Benson sighed.

He then took out a silver pocket watch with a floral pattern on the surface, snapped it open, and took a look:

"Let's go. It's still a long way to the Town Hall Square."

Melissa said "hmm" and went out with her brother and came to the street.

"Good morning, Mrs. Daniel." After walking a few steps forward, Benson saw a neighbor going out, so he smiled and greeted her.

He is good at communication and has established good relationships with his neighbors.

The lady called Mrs. Daniel was wearing a pure black dress. She was in her forties, thin, and her face was covered with a black veil hanging from her hat. She just nodded and responded briefly:

"Good morning, both of you."

She didn't say hello and walked away coldly.

Benson looked at her from behind and deliberately slowed down his pace. When he was a little further away, he turned his head and asked his sister:

“What happened to Mrs. Daniel?

"I've been so busy lately that I haven't visited my neighbors for a long time."

Melissa pursed her lips and said:

"Mrs. Daniel's eldest son, Larry, was confirmed to have been killed on the front line of the Amanda Mountains. The news came yesterday."

"That tall, shy, but attentive, kind, and sincere young man? When he came back last time, he said he was promoted in the army and became a lieutenant..." Benson asked in surprise.

Melissa nodded:

"I also can't imagine Larry dying like this..."

Just like she couldn't imagine a classmate she knew at school dying tragically in front of her.

In just a few seconds, some people could no longer speak, communicate, or read.

Benson was silent for a moment, then sighed and said:

“I have been busy recently, actually dealing with the pension issue. Maybe Larry was not included in the list I was assigned, so I am not sure.

"The list came with a lot of information. Some were cheerful and enthusiastic, some were humorous, some were the only son of their parents, some were strong-willed and were leaders of the soldiers around them, some were newly married and had no children, some were preparing gifts for their little daughters, and some were carrying a love letter and planned to end the battle and go to the post office to deliver it... They are all dead."

Melissa and Benson were both silent, and no one spoke for a long time.

When they were almost at the intersection, Melissa looked at the road ahead and spoke softly:

"What do you think His Majesty will say today?"

"Maybe it's to mobilize people, or maybe it's to convey the belief that we must win." Benson answered casually.

Melissa turned her head and glanced at her brother:

"That's not like you, Benson. Shouldn't you be sarcastic?"

"You should also make sarcastic remarks after you have listened to the speech and understood its specific content. The most basic principle of being a human being is not to comment on things you don't fully understand. Otherwise, you'll be worse than a curly-haired baboon." Benson said with a smile.

Then he saw another neighbor.

The other person had gray hair and a scarf covering half of his face. He was wearing a thick jacket and holding a cloth bag in his hand. He hurriedly passed the brother and sister.

"Mr. Thomas is dressed strangely... Is he going to do anything else?" Benson looked at the other person's back and asked with a little confusion.

Melissa replied in a low voice:

"Mrs. Thomas was ill, and the family spent a lot of their savings. Food prices have risen a lot recently, and Mr. Thomas's income has not changed much. He had to line up at the relief center every few days to get some bread. He is a respectable gentleman and probably doesn't want to be recognized by others.

"Also, the food at the relief center is always limited. If you go too late, it may be gone. You have to go to the church, the poorhouse, and other places to apply for additional food. Today, the relief will start when His Majesty the King finishes his speech. Mr. Thomas should think about going there directly at that time."

Benson nodded slowly and asked with concern:

"What's wrong with Mrs. Thomas? I know some good doctors."

"Anxiety-induced illness." Melissa said what she had heard. "Mrs. Thomas is very worried about her youngest son who is serving in the military."

"You mean little Thomas?" Benson frowned slightly.

After getting an affirmative answer from his sister, he fell silent, as if he was thinking about something.

After a while, when they were approaching the nearest municipal square, Benson looked ahead and whispered:

"Little Thomas has died..."

…Melissa didn’t respond, but her expression was a little dazed for a moment.

They walked forward silently again, as if relying on inertia.

In front of them, more and more people appeared. Some of them were dressed in formal suits, holding canes and dressed like gentlemen. Some were wearing skirts with blue, green, yellow and red as the main colors. Some were wearing sweaters and jackets with trousers. Some were wearing dark black dresses with somber tones.

They came out of their houses and came from their streets, like splashing water, merging together at the intersection to form a stream.

The creek surges forward, and multiple streams converge into one, weaving into a majestic torrent at the entrance of the square.

The torrent rushed slowly and flooded the square.

Surrounded by such a crowd, Melissa felt as small as a drop of water.