Ke-style law enforcement officers

Chapter 893 You Should Have Said It Earlier

Milo knew that Enid was into lesbians, but he didn't expect her to be so open to all kinds of things, even accepting anime characters.

It's important to know that she lived during the later stages of the First Industrial Revolution, a time when there was no animation industry, let alone any two-dimensional character culture.

God knows how she managed to blend into this world so instantly.

The alleyway echoed with a series of thrilling sounds from the houses, and from time to time, muffled thuds of slight impacts and trembling heart symbols drifted out from the cracks in the windows.

Milo reached out to pry open the hand of petite Enid, which was hooked by nails, but Enid slapped him hard across the face and gave him a fierce look.

Good heavens, this is really something.

Milo's eyes widened in disbelief.

Enid actually moved?
But it also seemed like nothing had moved, and for a moment he was unsure whether what he had just seen was real.

But then I thought, this is an abyss, anything can happen here, and I immediately felt relieved.

Looking back, I realized that I had been telling Enid before the Blood Moon that I would take her to the pleasure house to broaden her horizons when I had time, but she was killed before I could go. I felt a strange sense of guilt.

……

So for the rest of the afternoon, Milo sat at the family's living room dining table with petite Enid in his arms, chin in hand, watching the two cousins' heart-wrenching tug-of-war.

From sofa to fireplace, from floor to stairs, from sink to desk.

This might not be the most visually striking tug-of-war scene Milo has ever seen, but it is definitely the most unique, because the surrounding air is almost filled with all sorts of distorted, shy, and enchanting symbols, leaving absolutely no blank space in the visual image.

He couldn't help but suspect that the comic book thrown into the abyss might actually be a book about Liu Bei.

...

It was a long afternoon.

During this time, Milo even moved his seat once to make room for the two sisters at the dining table.

Only after the fighting subsided, and the two paper-thin figures lay unconscious amidst the chaos of the living room, did Milo finally leave, carrying the still-unsatisfied petite Enid.

To reiterate, this is an abyss where anything absurd can happen.

...

When I got outside, the sky was already shrouded in night, with a crescent moon and twinkling stars hanging on the horizon.

However, melodious songs still drift through the villages and towns, and you can see the notes floating in the wind if you just look up slightly.

Milo folded up petite Enid's hands and stuffed them into his trench coat pockets, determined not to take her to pry open other people's windows this time.

"You've had a feast for the eyes, haven't you? Don't say I didn't take you to have some fun next time."

He continued walking in the direction from which the musical notes were coming.

...

The villages and towns don't seem particularly dark at night.

While the overall tone has indeed darkened somewhat, it has further accentuated the tranquility of the moonlight.

Milo navigated the winding paths between the houses until he finally found his destination—a small square with a sculpture standing there.

In front of the sculpture, a figure dressed in a coarse linen robe stands alone in the night, his hands lightly clasped in front of his chest.

The melodious and moving singing voice came from under its hood.

...

Milo didn't interrupt the chanting, but instead found a step across the street from the square and sat down.

Unlike everything around her, the chanter lacked sharply defined features, and despite the somber tone, her uniqueness was unmistakable. In other words...

This guy's art style is a bit different from others.

Yes, everyone else has a slightly rough, cartoonish art style. Even the more serious architectural works are only slightly sketch-like. But that guy doesn't have a single trace of comic book style. He's a real three-dimensional figure. The coarse linen clothes and cloak are so detailed that you can even see the broken threads of the fabric.

Its art style is superior to all others; it's a realistic style!
Earlier, on the hilltop, Milo had already discerned some clues from the singing.

Upon arriving here, I found something amiss.

...

The chanter seemed to have also noticed Milo's arrival.

It stopped singing.

But the melodious singing lingered in the air above the village and town, as if it were imprisoned by something.

...

It slowly walked towards Milo and sat down beside him.

The rough cloth cloak was inadvertently lifted, revealing several slender, straight lines that cast a fleeting pale white shadow on the steps—an expression of the intense light from this corner of the abyss world.

"The people here love singing."

A clear and melodious voice emanated from beneath the cloak's hood, mirroring the ballads it sang, only tinged with an undeniable sadness and silence.

The voice is neutral, making it difficult to tell whether it is male or female.

At close range, Milo could see the silhouette of the figure and the fabric of the cloak more clearly.

He was astonished to discover that this person was not some so-called "realistic" style; it was a completely three-dimensional individual, no different from the real world.

At least that's how the cloak covering his entire body looked.

...

"Why did you stop singing?" Milo subconsciously put his hands into his pockets, not because of the cold night wind, but simply to hold the petite Enid.

"Because you're here."

The chanter turned slightly to the side, and a complex gaze was cast toward Milo from the shadow of the cloak's hood.

“I don’t really like riddle-like conversations,” Milo said frankly.

He didn't really care what the guy was about to say, because Milo had been keeping his mind focused the whole time, repeatedly telling himself that this was an abyss, and once he was triggered to think by the words, texts, or songs here, he wouldn't be far from falling into it.

The latter shrugged upon hearing this: "You should have said so earlier."

Then, it nodded, abandoning its sentimental demeanor and adopting a more composed tone:

“My name is Zo-Karaal. In the Dream Realm, I control the superficial order of birth and death. Among my brothers, I am not the most powerful or conspicuous one, so I am curious why you came to me first.”

This is a very straightforward and direct approach.

The chanter readily admitted his identity: He was one of the dream gods who had sunk into the abyss.

And to verify his identity, he raised his hand and removed the hood that covered his head.

In that instant, ghostly light and starlike pure color intertwined and meandered and twisted in this colorless world.

Okay, I've blocked it again.

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(End of this chapter)