Mystery: Starting from the Shadow World

Chapter 52 Blood Moon

In the end, encouraged by old Neil, Philip accepted the "Sleeping Charm" that he had made himself, but on the condition that he would come back a couple more times in his spare time to put his talent to use.

After all, an old and frail "secret seeker" often has limited power to create spells, resulting in unsatisfactory effects. However, the night watchman does not have a high demand for them, so it is not a problem.

But having a few on hand is still very useful.

Because of the talisman-making, there wasn't much time left in today's two-hour occult course, and Old Neil didn't teach anything else. After browsing through the information the Night Watchers had for a while, Philip also got up and left, welcoming his last moments before the end of his shift.

No. 6, Narcissus Street.

After roughly estimating the spiritual energy required to make the "Sleep Charm," Philip was somewhat surprised to find that it was far less than he had expected. Even if he made three more, there would be no problem.

Indeed, while the spirituality of those on the Prisoner Path is far inferior to that of those on the Monster Path, it is still quite high. It seems that the creation of "Ember" consumes too much spiritual energy, and we should be more careful in the future.

However, that doesn't mean we won't do it now.

Philip then set up a spiritual wall, took out the materials piled up in the bedside table, and, with a carving knife and silver sheet in hand, continued to make "Ember" based on yesterday's experience.

According to the calendar, there are seventeen days until the night of the full moon, at which time Philip will suffer the corresponding curse. Even though he has experienced this many times in his memory, he still dares not be careless after experiencing countless accidents.

You can never have too much of this.

As Philip thought this, he had already successfully carved out his own symbol—a strange hand that would be tightly bound with bandages and pierced by two nails of punishment.

As the carving continued, night gradually fell, and the crimson moonlight shone through the window into the room. Although it was not pure white, it still gave people a sense of brightness and tranquility.

The golden flame, though conspicuous, weakly illuminated the house before quickly disappearing into the silver sheet, bringing a warm touch to the palm.

"Phew~"

Philip closed his eyes and exhaled softly. When he turned to look at the red moon hanging high in the window, his pupils suddenly contracted. Although the shock and fear in his eyes were fleeting, his quietly clenched hands still betrayed the discontent in his heart.

The outline of the red moon rapidly filled out, becoming full and complete, transforming into a blood-red, eerie full moon!

Blood Moon!

It is a rare and unpredictable phenomenon that occurs only a few times a year. However, it is more dangerous and more elusive than a full moon. It can cause negative emotions to rise and erupt, and it can enhance the power of the underworld and the spirit world.

The instant the blood-red full moon became completely complete, Philip clenched the talisman in his hand and struggled on the ground in pain.

He tried his best to endure the pain that felt like boiling water surging inside his body. He unconsciously opened his tightly clenched mouth, but he couldn't even let out a roar. The only sound in the room was the slight thud of his body rolling around.

Philip's thoughts seemed to evaporate completely, but the sound of flames igniting echoed in his mind, suppressing the pain in his body and preventing it from intensifying with the ever-reddening moonlight.

But the curse remains. As long as the blood moon hangs high in the sky, the suffering faced by all Extraordinary members of the Temperance faction through the "Prisoner" pathway will not be relieved, but will instead linger throughout the long night!

Sweat gradually dripped from his forehead, and his body, which had just been washed, became sticky, dripping onto the ground and drowning out his almost silent groans.

Indeed, something was wrong; it was going to be much harder. Philip gritted his teeth, squeezing his eyelids shut tighter and tighter, preventing the sweat from seeping into the gaps. Instead, the sweat gathered until it dripped onto the floor.

The turmoil in his mind, a mixture of drowsiness and turmoil, the delirious murmurs that seemed both hallucination and reality, the sweat-soaked body, and the overwhelming pain all made Philip suffer immensely.

Curled up on the ground, he gripped the "Ember" talisman in his right hand tightly, while slowly rubbing his elbow to confirm the location of the pocket. He then began to chant laboriously:

"A fool who doesn't belong to this era."

"You are the mysterious ruler above the gray fog."

"You are the King of Yellow and Black, the master of good fortune!"

After uttering the last syllable, feeling slightly relieved, Philip forced a smile, a bitter and self-deprecating one, and began to assess his limits, determined to persevere as much as possible.

That evening, as Klein was getting ready for bed, he heard the layers of whispers and suddenly looked alertly towards the next room, his expression somewhat strange. He thought to himself, speechless, "Who is it now? Didn't they already finish praying?"

He put his tailcoat back on, took four steps backward, and arrived above the gray fog. He sat in the first seat, looked around, and finally focused his gaze on the nearest crimson star that represented "Temperance".

Philip Klein instinctively felt somewhat helpless and even resistant, but in order to determine whether the other party needed help or to extend his spirituality and establish a connection with them.

But upon seeing the other person's predicament, he immediately opened his eyes wide. Through the blurry vision, he saw the blood-red moonlight pouring down from the window, and he recalled the information about the "prisoner" who was an extraordinary individual.

Full Moon Curse!

It's no surprise that Philip has already reached Sequence 8. Klein understood this perfectly. After observing for several seconds and confirming that there was no other danger, he immediately pulled Philip into the gray fog space.

In a daze, Philip found himself in a certain place, and the effects of the curse disappeared, leaving only the lingering phantom pain.

After a dozen seconds, he slowly opened his eyes, saw the figure at the head of the table, and was somewhat taken aback, "Mr. Fool?"

"Yes, it's me." Klein suppressed his emotions and responded as calmly as possible. Then, he pinched his chin with his left index finger and thumb, and asked softly with a smile, "The Curse of the Full Moon?"

"Um"

Philip nodded, replying with deep apology, "I'm sorry to have bothered you. This blood moon came very suddenly and is quite unusual, so I'm not confident I can hold on by myself."

Not a single mistake, not a single poem, not a single post, not a single piece of content, not a single look!

If you can't do it, neither can I. The full moon curse lasts all night, and spiritual energy is simply not enough. Klein sighed inwardly, but he didn't want to just ignore it, so he could only try to think of a solution, albeit somewhat futilely.

Seeing the silent fool, Philip seemed to understand something and hurriedly explained, "No, I'm already very grateful for just this short time. You can take me back later. I'm used to it."

"I know your current situation is not optimistic, but please rest assured, I have other solutions."

When did I become less than optimistic?

Moreover, what other methods are there?

Klein instinctively wanted to ask, but realized that doing so would contradict his inscrutable image, so he could only take the easy way out, raising the corners of his mouth and saying calmly, "Well, don't force yourself, it's just a small matter."

"You can call me again when it matters."

Backlund, East District.

Inside a one-bedroom apartment, a pale-faced middle-aged man, who appeared to be in his forties, looked at the ritual laid out before him and solemnly spoke in ancient Hermes:

"I!"

"I summon in my own name:"

A spirit that roams the upper realms, a bizarre creature that worships blood, a messenger unique to Jason Voorhees!

Ugh!

The surging wind swept out, but subsided in an instant. The summoning ritual, which had gathered all the elements without any problems, now failed to respond. Even after Steve tried again after a dozen seconds of silence, it was to no avail.

His lips moved, but he didn't speak.

He just stood there in silence for a long time.

"It failed?"

(End of this chapter)