Chapter 608
Kenneth couldn’t ignore the news.
He was captivated by that one line he saw in the newspaper, raised as if pulled by inertia, and he just couldn’t tear his gaze away from it. As if bewitched, he began to research the farm, discovering the bizarre claims made by the farm owner and the fairies caught on film, as if evil beings were having a banquet…
Each one of those things whispered to him.
There’s something you’re looking for here.
This news likely has a high probability of being real.
The traces he’d been tracking flashed through his mind.
The materials he’d gathered flickered in his thoughts.
Murder incidents that occurred in Germany and America.
They say tools have no morality, but if bizarre things happen that transcend good and evil, it’s highly likely related to special abilities. If that’s true, then the existence of the Book of Moses 6 and 7 in America or Germany would be probable, and thus, it wouldn’t be unlikely for these books to be found in America. Plus, the farm sounds credible. If it ended up as the property of someone unaware of its value, it could very well remain undiscovered until now. If so, we could think that the Book of Moses 6 and 7 were indeed found somewhere in that secluded farm, causing those bizarre phenomena.
It must be true.
It certainly must be.
With such thoughts in mind, Kenneth lifted his heavy body.
He resolved to use the materials he’d meticulously gathered for magic without reservation and decided to assault those he believed were connected to the farm. Because those people would have the Book of Magic containing Moses 6 and 7. He could have bought it with money or negotiated, but he chose the method of assault. Because within that group was a shaman. There was no way that a shaman wouldn’t recognize the value of the Book of Moses 6 and 7, nor would they even consider handing it over, even for a thousand gold pieces. Kenneth knew that taking the Book of Magic would be unwise, yet he chose the assault. He couldn’t bear it. He absolutely, absolutely couldn’t bear it.
How could he endure that?
No one could endure it. It certainly must be.
Why couldn’t he endure it…
…If you ask why he couldn’t endure it.
“Ugh.”
It was hard to explain in detail.
At some point, it felt as if his self-control had vanished.
The constant headache that always followed him like a friend would often interrupt his deep thoughts.
Whenever he tried to think deeply, it felt like a needle was drilling into his brain, and whenever he attempted to calm his mind through meditation, pain would spike up, disturbing his peace.
Kenneth knew that all of this was abnormal.
He had become violent and frantic as if he were a teenager with raging male hormones, and the pain obstructed any proper contemplation. And because of that pain, his already violent and hasty personality grew more frantic, like a fiery rage that would intermittently erupt as if a fireball had settled in his body. His vision narrowed, and he had a strong tendency to become fixated on one thing.
Of course, it wasn’t necessarily wrong.
His judgments, honed by experience and study, were mostly correct, and focusing on one thing could be the fastest route to the truth.
But if you ask whether this was normal, it would be fair to say it wasn’t.
How can it be normal for someone to become like a youth without the composure or wisdom of an old man?
It was probably a side effect of the magic he’d been practicing or a disease that came with aging.
Kenneth was aware of this.
He didn’t consider himself astute or clever, but he didn’t think he was so dull that he wouldn’t realize this.
But that was all.
He didn’t think it was a big problem.
So he thought.
He thought.
* * *
Boom—!!!
Crack, crack, crack!
The sound of a massive engine.
The noise of the gate that had been blocking the road being smashed apart.
That colossal sound echoed through the pitch-black night.
The sound of metal being crushed and twisted under the gigantic vehicle reverberated, accompanied by the roaring of the truck as it barreled forward. The giant truck’s headlights shone brightly, tearing down the unpaved road like a wild beast. With sheer force, animals fluttered in fright, spreading their wings and disappearing into the darkness, while four-legged beasts scampered madly toward what they thought might be a safe place.
And the truck raced on.
Roaring, racing, racing again.
Boom—!
Bang—!!
Bam, bam, bam—!!!
As if it had no intention of concealing its existence, it barreled forward with its monstrous engine sound and loud horn.
The direction the truck was heading was toward the volcano.
With a heavy load in the back, it left imprints in the ground and pushed forward.
That charge was fueled by explosive emotions, filled with a hidden malevolence. That malevolence resembled nails and screws packed into a bomb—easily recognizable yet shrouded in a sinister, murderous intent.
It was as if there was never an intention to hide it in the first place, yet still pretended to do so, masking its viciousness clumsily.
Hence, the half-hearted evil that came to light without sincerity might have been inevitable.
Boom—!!!
Explosion.
With a grand boom, the pickup truck flipped over.
As the pickup truck raced madly, heading towards the volcano, it struck a mine laid by the military or perhaps Kenneth himself, soaring into the air. Like a vehicle hitting an anti-tank mine, it launched skyward, spinning in mid-air. And with it, the driver of the pickup truck also had to spin several times involuntarily, a blank expression on his face as he clung tightly to the steering wheel, eyes glinting.
And then.
Baaaaaaaaang!
With an expressionless face, he pressed the horn.
To prevent his body from being thrown backward from the impact, he clutched the steering wheel tightly with both hands, deeply pressing the center of the wheel with his crown and starting to blast the horn.
As the horn continued to sound, some device began to activate, and a small electric current traveled along the wires, stimulating whatever was loaded in the pickup truck’s cargo space. It ignited a tiny flame, setting fire to the wires packed with gunpowder, and that fire raced towards its target, producing pops of minor explosions along the way.
And then.
Boom—!!!
It exploded.
The homemade directional mine detonated.
The homemade directional mine loaded onto the pickup truck erupted with a tremendous blast, scattering the bullets contained within. The mine, filled with nails, screws, and crushed shell casings, exploded in a fan-shaped pattern, devastating the surroundings. Along with this, bullets filled with “toxic substances” were flung in every direction.
With several of those homemade directional mines in play, the scattering bullets bloomed forth like a sphere, bright and flourishing like a flower, spreading a scent that wafted through the air, while simultaneously releasing a truly horrific seed that would poison the soil.
For anyone who loved Yellowstone National Park, it would be a sight that could make them froth at the mouth.
The truck’s explosion was horrifying, and the scattering bullets were dreadful.
But the truly horrific part was the poison contained within that homemade directional mine.
That poison had the potential to taint this park and wreak havoc upon this closed ecosystem.
The land would become contaminated, plants would wither, and any animal that ingested it would face death or suffer from the awful poison. Furthermore, if they bore offspring, they’d likely do so in grotesque forms—completely unable to continue their lineage—meaning the horror could scarcely be put into words.
What kind of poison could do such a thing?
There exists such a poison.
A poison that could bring about such a terrible catastrophe.
Radiation.
If it were bullets filled with radioactive waste, they could undoubtedly do that.
Contaminated, corroded, mutated by radiation.
And thus, Yellowstone National Park would be polluted.
Until extensive decontamination efforts were conducted, and even after those, it would likely groan in pain from the aftereffects.
The dirty bomb—a homemade directional mine laden with radioactive waste being transported by that truck—was a disaster of that magnitude!
Boom—!!!
Bam, bam, bam—!!!
And this disaster was not the only one.
