Uncertain of how long had passed, Angel fell out of the golden light.
His eyes were tightly shut, his cheeks pale.
A few seconds later, Angel suddenly opened his eyes, but before he could get a clear view of his surroundings, he clutched his chest and propped himself up from the ground, retching forcefully to the side.
The retching lasted for over half a minute.
However, since Angel’s stomach was empty, he only vomited sour stomach acid, though at least he felt somewhat more at ease than before.
"Second time... second time..." Angel’s voice, full of resentment, drifted out through clenched teeth.
The last time he was swallowed into the Dalmatian’s belly, he experienced an unprecedented tumbling. At the time, he already felt very uncomfortable. This time was even worse; Angel himself didn’t know how many times he had rolled. It felt like rolling from last year to this.
Even with his current physique, he was tormented to the point of retching, showcasing just how unforgettable this tumbling was for Angel.
With the oppressive feeling in his chest slightly relieved, Angel lifted his head to look around.
That look immediately stupefied Angel’s gaze.
Clocks.
Countless clocks.
Round, square, flat, tilted, as big as the morning star, as small as a ring, cracked, half-embedded in the void, flickering and glowing, dim and faded...
Various kinds of clocks filled this unknown void.
And Angel stood in a corner of this "Clock Forest."
Beneath his feet was the void, yet mysteriously, a patch of glowing velvet grass sprouted at the spot where his foot landed. As Angel tested walking, the glowing velvet grass would automatically grow at the spot where his foot fell, eliminating the danger of falling into the void.
Although the phenomenon of velvet grass growing underfoot was peculiar, considering it’s inside the Dalmatian’s belly, anything might happen and Angel didn’t bother to pay attention.
He believed this glowing velvet grass was merely a trivial detail.
The Dalmatian truly wanted him to witness perhaps the "Clock Forest."
These clocks came in all styles, some intricate, some simple; at first glance, Angel found nothing out of ordinary. Their only common point was: they were all motionless.
Since the Dalmatian led him here—yes, Angel was firmly convinced he appeared here as per the Dalmatian’s design—it surely intended for him to observe or do something here.
Thinking this, Angel stood up.
He walked toward the nearest clock.
It was a somewhat dim mantel clock with corroded hands. On the furthest edge of the Clock Forest, it looked like a dilapidated noble’s facade decoration.
No matter how he looked, Angel couldn’t discern anything special about this clock.
After hesitating for a second, he decided to stretch out his hand to touch it.—Previously, touching the clock outside had brought about changes, perhaps it’s the same with these clocks.
Yet, when Angel reached out, he discovered he grasped nothing.
This clock was not an entity.
It was an illusion.
Angel paused for a moment; as an Illusionist Wizard, he hadn’t noticed any trace of illusion in this clock, other than its age. In his eyes, in his spiritual sight, it appeared wholly real.
Angel couldn’t help but wave his hand back and forth beside the mantel clock, although his hand touched only the illusory, he still couldn’t see any traces of illusions.
Could this be a higher-level Illusion Technique?
Or perhaps it wasn’t an illusion but rather beyond Angel’s capacity to touch the entity?
Unable to derive an answer, Angel attributed it to the Dalmatian’s mystical ability.
Since this mantel clock was illusory, what about the other clocks? Angel didn’t dwell at one spot long but continued toward other clocks.
Square clock wheel... illusory.
Heart-shaped pocket watch... illusory.
Lavish wall clock... illusory.
Angel proceeded forward, touching everything along the way. Whether a towering clock as large as a building or a small pocket watch, none was real; all were illusory.
Though these clocks looked distinctive, Angel couldn’t find any worthy research value. He could only keep moving forward.
And as Angel advanced, surrounding clocks clearly grew more intricate, and there were more glowing clock wheels.
But, regardless of how exquisite or dazzling, they were only coated with a splendid exterior; the inner core remained illusory.
Perhaps because of too many illusory clocks and finding no focal subject to examine closely, Angel’s thoughts began to stray into peculiar directions, for instance, imagining: If he were a clockmaker, perhaps he would be happy here, designing clocks effortlessly and abundantly, never repeating daily.
With various wild thoughts, Angel continued forward. After an undetermined amount of time, he suddenly saw an enormous spire clock in the distance.
This clock seemed to stabilize the heavens and earth, unimaginably vast.
At first glance of this clock, a thought surfaced in Angel’s mind: There, perhaps that is the destination!
Angel didn’t bother to ponder whether this thought was a mystic premonition or a concept forcibly inserted by the Dalmatian. He had nowhere else to go, so he decided to check it out; he might find some clues.
Without hesitation, Angel even quickened his pace.
In the void, the swaying glow velvet grass appeared and vanished under Angel’s feet like a Path Mark, illuminating his way to the enormous clock.
Upon arriving here, Angel immediately understood he had reached the right place.