Bodies contorted due to the massive crushing weight atop them were revealed. They were embossed in silver, their faces locked in eternal agony. Their limbs were forced in multiple angles, bent upwards, downwards, to the side—they were just completely twisted.
Like pretzels, Vere thought. But, of course, he could go for one right now…or anything else.
The Suspect dissipated in silver heaps as he wrapped the cloak around his torso. Silver ashen ends blew in the breeze, but his chest was finally covered once again.
It still wasn't all that satisfactory. Vere waggled his brows in amusement at the slight displeasure he felt, interested in its origins.
He didn't feel like he cared about not wearing clothes or his image. Maybe he just liked the way they looked? Even a swine carrying pearls has something beautiful; few would deny that.
He tapped his fist against his outstretched palm, his expression softening as he let his lips part. Yeah, that must be it…even if those clothes were old, he did feel nice in them.
Sadly they didn't come with tailors.
"Hup." He picked up his Bastard Stick Greatsword again, letting the magpie hovering around him take The Brick back to his thought nexus. He figured he'd as well clear this place out while he was here…besides.
He still had two new abilities to test. First up was [Self Control].
Black billowing mist flowed from his veins and traveled along the blood tunnels. Coagulating in the pit of his sternum, a chilling sensation washed over Vere.
He did feel a bit more subdued…if that was even possible. The excitement of battle started to become a bit dull, though his overall experience wasn't precisely quelled.
"…Alright. I mean, it's useful. Perhaps it'll help me in the future? Or…" Vere's lips pursed, his teeth near clenching as his expression became blank.
'…Maybe it'll help me regarding my loss of control. These hands won't be able to be hidden at all times….' That incident was still shoved in the back of his mind. He still needed a solution to it, but in a way, it was a significant clue to his past.
Asking Othello about it was out of the question. However, if he took off his glove and harmed her…he was most wary of that outcome.
Because what if he didn't feel anything? He didn't even feel regret about his outburst before, really. The fact that he didn't care about the prospect of slaughter at all was disturbing—only because he didn't think it felt right. Still, it's not like there was much he could do about it.
At least, not immediately.
So he ran, pushing these thoughts behind as he dragged that lumbering wooden armament atop his shoulders. Thought power flowed as a purple light washed over his right eye, forming six miniature petals surrounding his irises. In the center were darkened spots—just like pupils. The petals resembled six tiny eyes.
This was [Seven Eyes].
Vere began to unravel its secrets as he tangled with the Suspects of the prairie junkyard. It was like a new medium—and he could feel the odd sensation of looking through a new lens. So much of the power felt locked away as if bound and secreted in a car-off place.
Purple-shaded thought power coagulated in one of the petal pupils, surging towards his own pupil before long. A small bullet appeared, amped by his energy, and sent hurtling through a Mashed and Warped Mechanist's head.
'Good. I guess Range Play will always be an option—as long as I have thought power left. Well…does it even have a limit? Hmm…' Vere decided to ponder this for later, skating and sliding underneath slugging fists and tools abound.
Wham!
The Bastard Stick Greatsword was less sword, more bat. Vere smirked as he remembered that he had dubbed it a mallet before, but he guessed it just got a new identity just now.
The sword seemed to shiver in sadness.
Vere gave a soft chuckle, standing amidst the dissipating forms of the Suspect bodies. The area was now clear.
>Suspects neutralized. The Rami split the Insight amongst themselves…please note that any increase in Case Understanding yields better gains.
'And is it a multiplicative effect?'
>Yes.
Vere nodded and got moving. Basked in the lavender glow, his shadow slid over the terrain as he progressed.
Instead of focusing his attention on his mental space, he didn't know where he was going. Then, remembering that he had a link with the bar Othello created for him—Ragtime Paradise—he wondered if he could track its position.
Since it did belong to him. Technically? He figured that if Othello asked for it back, he wouldn't mind returning it.
In fact, he felt quite wistful walking amongst the plains. That feeling of longing… called him to wander. It was vague, but he was enjoying himself as he went.
The breeze swept at his cloak, which had no hood or the like. A cloud of dust was blown upwards, fine particles dusting the long blackened cloth.
"I could always try and follow that familiar sensation. Perhaps it would lead me to a clue about C? Or…hm. I think staying on the path would be a good idea." He spoke aloud, his footsteps halting for but a moment.
…
Whatever was there, it skittered off.
…
'Hm. It's gone. Better keep a lookout.' Vere effortlessly kept his expression blank. Whoever was following him would have to figure out whether he was aware or not…at least, if they hadn't the sense to leave after being startled.
——
Vere wandered for a long time, seeing various sights throughout the B-Side. Quite a few unfortunate things were viewed with mainly indifferent eyes, the man's opinions not necessarily fueled by emotion.
There were common threads to the wasteland-like areas. First, there was always a sense of forlorn, far-off beauty. The area's tranquility was only interrupted by hostile Suspects every now and then.
And there was always a sense of tragedy. Most of the bizarre, almost esoteric sights always had an underlying macabre tone. Various forms of anguish were displayed by corpses—Suspect and motionless alike.
Fathers clutched their children to their chests, their faces purple and their necks marred. Playground memorabilia floated around, viscera demarcating their edges. Lovers murdered each other, abandoned each other, and died with each other. If he spent time exploring every little thing, he'd be here for months.
He only knew most of these details as he felt compelled to analyze them. The conspiracy board materialized many times as he gathered Details and linked them, deducing most of what he could.
He felt a bit more familiar with analysis as a whole. The process felt a bit smoother, and he even grew to like the sound of 'the hunchback tolling the bell.'
Stepping across a half floating bridge, he walked above an empty gap that expanded into imperceptible darkness.
He noted that down and moved on.
Red flowing water felt like the solid ground beneath his feet. A palace loomed in the distance, its edges folding towards each other.
Various heads appeared in the atmosphere, looks of shock etched upon their faces. Their heads would sometimes explode, making the horizon seem even deeper in a way. Vere guessed it was one of the ways the B-Side expanded itself.
He stepped upon a concrete road. Trees sprouted up from below, and insects with large, draconic bodies surged up the branches and whispered fervently.