Above the Blood Moon

Finally, it was the last person's turn.

It was a figure completely covered from head to toe in black cloth, with an unadorned iron mask on its face.

Jockley couldn't even tell if the person was male or female. He could only guess that it was a male ability user based on the almost deathly energy fluctuations emanating from the other person.

The man remained silent for a long time, so long that someone began to tap impatiently on the armrest of the chair, so long that just as the old man in the black robe was about to ask a question, he finally moved.

He pulled something out of his pocket.

This is a mask carved from some kind of pale bone material, its surface covered with dark red patterns that resemble blood vessels. The mask's features are indistinct; it has no eyes, no nose, only a slightly open mouth.

His lips curled upwards in a strange, ambiguous smile.

When the mask was taken out, the temperature in the entire underground space seemed to drop by several degrees.

Jockley could feel the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end, a biological instinct warning of some kind of danger.

"Blasphemy." The man spoke, his voice distorted as it passed through the mask and fabric.

"I named it the 'Faceless Mask'."

He paused, as if organizing his thoughts or suppressing some emotion.

"The function is very simple. Wearing it can change your appearance. It's not about disguise or makeup, but a real and complete change from bone to muscle to skin. It's more convenient than surgical face transplant. You can change it anytime, anywhere. The duration is theoretically unlimited, as long as you wear it."

"What about the side effects?" the old man in the black robe asked, his voice still calm. Perhaps seeing that there were newcomers this time, he asked on behalf of Jockley.

"Two things. First, the wearer may gradually forget who they are; the longer they wear it, the more severely it erodes their self-awareness. Second, the wearer may have strong suicidal tendencies, and might even pick up a knife and try to cut off their own face."

Jockley felt his heart pounding as if it would burst out of his chest.

This was the first time he had seen anything other than the bone spear—a blasphemous object.

Although he maintained a calm expression on the surface, his heart was in turmoil.

He recalled the pain of using the bone gun, the whispers that burrowed into his mind, and the despairing images that tore his soul apart.

Jockley forced himself to calm down, controlling his breathing and suppressing his emotions. He was afraid, especially afraid that those psychic ability users might sense the intense turmoil in his heart at this moment.

Strangely, the others present did not show any surprise or astonishment.

The other woman sitting diagonally opposite Jockley sighed softly.

"Do you still want to kill Freud?" Her voice was weary, with a hint of barely perceptible pity.

"He's the boss of a company. You've been doing this for four or five months, coming to every gathering, wearing this mask every time. Is it worth it?"

She paused, then continued.

"Why don't you reconsider the price I'm offering? Nine hundred Star Alliance coins is by no means a small amount."

"Take the money, leave Forgotten City, and start over on another planet, wouldn't that be better?"

The man, who was completely covered, did not respond. He simply sat quietly, holding the bone mask in his hands, as if it were the only important thing in the world.

At this moment, only one sentence was echoing wildly in Jockley's mind.

Praise be to the priest!

He suppressed his excitement and tried to keep his mind clear. He glanced at the old man in black robes and then carefully conveyed an inquiry with his eyes.

The old man seemed to understand.

He gently raised his right hand, his index finger tracing a simple yet strangely rhythmic path in the air.

In an instant, Jockley sensed a change in the surrounding space.

He was still sitting in that old chair, still able to see the other attendees around him, and still able to hear the faint echoes in the underground space, but a certain cognitive barrier had been established.

To others, he and the fully covered man were simply sitting quietly, but between them, a "passage" that belonged only to them had been opened.

Jockley took a deep breath and then transmitted his thoughts through the passage.

"I can accept this commission."

The man's body showed a noticeable reaction for the first time.

He suddenly looked up, his eyes fixed on him.

A few seconds later, a thought came back.

How can you prove it?

Jockley thought for a moment and then answered.

"I don't need proof. You just need to know that I have a way to get close to Freud and accomplish what you want to do. If you're willing to trust me, put away your mask. I'll come back to you after the mission is complete."

A long silence.

Then, the man slowly nodded.

"Alright, you'll see me again when you come back here after you've completed the mission. I promise, the old man will be my witness."

The old man in the black robe gave a timely "hmm," which was taken as his approval.

The woman with the scar on her face seemed to sense something. She glanced at Jockley with a puzzled look, then at the man who was completely covered up, but ultimately said nothing.

The old man in the black robe raised his hand again and waved it gently.

The barrier disappeared.

The space returned to normal, and to the others, it seemed that nothing had happened between Jockley and the man; they were simply sitting quietly, waiting for the party to end.

The party ended quickly.

The old man in the black robe tapped the back of his chair and announced the meeting was adjourned.

One by one, the attendees stood up and left in an orderly fashion. The men in black stood at the door and guided each person to leave through different exits to ensure that they would not meet each other when leaving.

Jockley was the third to last to leave.

As he stepped out of the underground space and onto the narrow staircase again, he felt as if he had returned from one world to another.

Big Yellow was waiting at the top of the stairs. When it saw Jockley come out, its optical sensor immediately lit up, and a series of anxious expressions popped up on the panel.

"[;´Д`]"

"[´;ω;`]"

"[○･｀Д´･○]"

"Fuck you, Jockley, do you have a heart? You've been in there for a full hour and forty-seven minutes! I almost rushed in!"

"What exactly happened inside? Are you injured? Was anyone threatened? Is there anyone?"

"It's okay, it's okay." Jockley patted its shoulder, a genuine smile appearing on his face for the first time in days.

"Not only are we alright, we might have struck gold."

He flipped over and climbed onto Big Yellow's back.

"Back to the tavern," Jockley said, his voice barely containing his excitement. "Hurry."

Big Yellow started the thrusters with some doubt, but still followed Jockley's instructions and started walking back.

The mechanical feet made rhythmic clattering sounds as they trod on the wet street.

"Master, what are you laughing at?" Big Yellow couldn't help but ask. "What was at that party?"

Jockley lay on its back, his face buried in the cold metal surface of the exoskeleton, his shoulders trembling slightly from suppressed laughter.

"You know what, Big Yellow?" He looked up, his eyes gleaming in the dim street light.

"Sometimes fate is really amazing. I was thinking about how to break free after killing Freud, and just now, someone delivered what we need right to our doorstep."

Big Yellow's optical sensor flickered.

He paused, his smile becoming somewhat complicated.

"And with that thing, we can infiltrate the Yadea Technology Company building to investigate, and maybe even find the real secrets of that development zone and our way home!"

"And we also earned 150 Star Alliance Coins!!"

A "[・_・?]" emoticon popped up on Big Yellow's screen.

"Master, you didn't sell your penis again, did you? But that doesn't make sense, it doesn't sell for much."

"Hmm, hmm?" Jockley nodded, then suddenly slapped Big Yellow's yellowish head hard.

"What do you mean by selling my dick? I sold one of my own abilities, [Weakness Sense]. Anyway, I figured that out myself, and it has quite a few side effects. Besides, I can use it myself. I just made a copy and sent it out."

Jockley patted Big Yellow on the shoulder.

"Now that we have the money, we can install that missile launcher on you."

The rhubarb's optical sensor instantly lit up to its maximum brightness.

「[!!!∑(ﾟДﾟノ)ノ]」

"real?!"

"Really," Jockley said with a smile, "I'll order from Huang Shuangyan as soon as I get back, but before that..."

He raised his head and looked into the distance, where the outline of the Gear Tavern was gradually becoming clear under the red light of the blood moon.

"We need to report to Art first. After the plan is completed, I might not even need to hide anymore. That's fantastic!"

Big Yellow quickened its pace, with Jockley perched on its back, watching the tavern getting closer and closer, its mind already racing with calculations.

The Faceless Mask, Freud, Yadea Corporation, 5,000 Star Alliance Coins, clues to returning home, all the fragments are converging in the same direction.

This time, he felt he had finally grasped the thread of fate!