"Morning Report! Morning Report! Ghost bride resurrected again, 35th negative man died tragically!!!"
Early morning on the streets of Daffodil, newsboys weave through the streets.
Fintan, who had been lying in the convent for nearly half a year, did not expect to stumble upon such a mysterious event just after he came out; his face was instantly baffled, and he casually took the newspaper from a newsboy who ran by his side.
"A dollar for the paper, sir!"
The newsboy, who had run over the top, made a sharp brake on the spot, and then came back to him with little steps, tilting his head expectantly.
Fintan quickly scanned the headlines, then closed the paper and handed it back.
The newsboy froze, his face slowly filling with disbelief.
Splitting his hand and snatching back the paper, the paperboy gave the man a vicious glare.
"Scrooge!!!"
Fintan, who read that look, shrugged indifferently.
He had only just been discharged from the hospital himself, so how could he have any money on him?
Thinking back on that amazing case, he returned to the manor.
My brother wasn't home, and the amazing plants in the yard were still vibrant and well cared for daily.
Fintan first went to the kitchen and made a delicious sandwich, slathering both sides of the bread with toasted butter and treating his half-starved, half-full six-month-old stomach.
Grabbing a sizzling ham and egg sandwich, he walked around the property as he ate, trying to see if anything had changed in the six months he'd been gone.
Suddenly, Fintan tilted his head, his face a little shocked as he smelled a very faintly eliminated scent of blood.
The smell of blood was coming from the courtyard plantation!
It didn't even take a second to think that there must have been some kind of body buried in that flower-filled dirt...
What experiments has Finnian been doing these past six months?
Fintan then went to the backyard garden with a clouded face, followed the corridor to the end, and pushed hard, but found that the iron gate did not move.
The door leading to the dungeon was reinforced with a sealing spell!
"Brother, what are you doing?"
Startled, Fintan looked back with some shock still on his face.
Finnian, who had returned at some point, didn't make a single sound, just stood quietly in the backyard, with a patch of bright red petunias at his feet.
...
"Anon, anon, I'm not doing any evil experiments~"
In the hall, Finnian, who is carrying boxes, calms his worried older brother.
"Here, look, this is my research material."
Finnian then opened the lid of the box again, revealing the densely hopping frogs inside.
Just critters...
Fintan let out a small sigh of relief at this but quickly slammed his face.
"What about the ones at the bottom of the garden!!!"
Finnian said absently, "Rabbits, ah, stray cats, stray dogs, mice, probably those things, if you don't, believe me, you can go loosen the soil~"
Fintan turned and walked out of the tool room, just about ready to get the iron rowan.
"Geez~ Brother, why don't you report to the church and come back to turn the soil, just as I have to bury something else!"
After blowing his somewhat reluctant brother out of the room, Finnian turned his head sideways and switched his view to the cuckoo bird on the courtyard wall.
It was these altered critters on sentry duty that allowed him to discover his brother's sudden return on his way to class.
Once the figure was completely away, Finnian made his way to the dungeon first.
In the dim corners, light-fearing severed arms were densely clustered and nestled together like cockroaches, their dirt-covered fingers constantly stretching.
Finnian picked one up full of regret and looked at it.
"What a shame, this research isn't finished yet..."
Gathering up the broken arms and filling a box full of them, he made his way back to the surface.
Then he got an iron rowan and went out into the garden and dug the piece of open ground up slowly.
"Whew~"
After laboring for a long time, Finnian leaned on his iron rowan and wiped the sweat from his forehead.
In front of him, a terrifyingly large pit was dug out.
Densely packed with a hundred or so severed arms, either long or short, old or young, some were already silent, some were still weakly writhing.
"What exactly is the meaning of life? Can the residual consciousness of a person after death be grafted onto someone else or not? It's curious..."
Finnian lamented, dumping the crate of severed arms awakened with his fire powers.
The most important ability of their sequence is that they can inject spirituality into various things for awakening, and then they can perform various experiments that twist common sense based on their knowledge, thus creating many strange things.
But sadly, as the sequence progresses, Finnian has grown to perceive the transcendent limitations of this place in Celine.
It's like a noose around the throat, ready to be lifted or dangling by its feet for all eternity.
The consciousness testing experiment ended early, and he destroyed the samples with some regret.
Dumping all of the severed arms into the large pit, Finnian snapped his fingers, letting a wisp of oily-green flame ignite between them, then curled his fingers to catapult the flames down and watched as the wave of fire that looked like lit kerosene spread.
"Sure enough, a little bit of the fire's residual heat is all it takes~"
The big pit was suddenly filled with uncountable arms crawling frantically with fire.
...
...
Fintan came to the church distracted.
He was desperately afraid that those transcendental experiments of his brother would be detected by the Church.
This fearfulness made him regret once again that he had agreed to his brother becoming a Transcendent.
Somewhat sheepishly exchanging pleasantries with the cleric on duty, Fintan took the opportunity to ask if any recent transcendental events needed to be worthy of attention.
"No it hasn't, you've just been discharged from the hospital recuperate first, we'll let you know when there's a mission."
Fintan's brow furrowed, "I read today's paper, that ghost bride story... Is there no question in that?"
"Ghost bride?"
"That..." The magus smiled meaningfully.
"Don't mind him, but if you're interested, check it out; if this is put to rest, the men in the city, who are scared to death, will be grateful to you, but in contrast, you'll be met with a great deal of female hostility..."
"Why?" Fintan blushed strangely.
"Because this is a resurgent movement that already has the beginnings of something big, and it's not like you and I are going to be able to calm things down by catching that man behind the curtain..."
The Magus said, looking into the distant sky with some sighs.
Fintan then left the church with his face in all the right places.
It seems that it doesn't rise to the level of transcendence and that's why the church doesn't care.
But that's killing people with the help of folklore of gods and ghosts!
Dozens of victims have been published in the newspapers!
Being a partner in justice, Fintan immediately hoofs it to the police morgue and applies for an investigation into the body that is dead and still committing serial crimes.
He didn't believe it!