Chapter 58: Long-lost Tranquility

Chapter 58: Long-lost Tranquility

Leave legends in nine places beyond this planet… Isn’t that the starry sky? Klein looked at the potion formula in his hand and nearly frowned.

He felt that this was even more dangerous than the Miracle Invoker advancement ritual.

Although the Box of the Great Old Ones, the two Grade 0 sealed artifacts of the Abraham family, and some Grade 1 sealed artifacts all possessed the ability to send people into the starry sky, making the ritual seem not particularly difficult, Klein clearly remembered that the leader of the Church of Evernight’s ascetics, Arianna, had once warned him that the starry sky contained extremely terrifying pollution. For those not at the level of angels, even knowing about it could be dangerous.

If I’m not a Planeswalker, I’ll be polluted by the starry sky. But if I want to become a Planeswalker, I must roam the starry sky… That is practically a dead knot with no way to untie it… Perhaps the Abraham family has records of relatively safe places in the starry sky. I shouldn’t be too pessimistic… Also, after I return, I’ll need to verify the authenticity of this formula through divination… Dorian not deceiving me doesn’t mean he cannot have been deceived… Klein withdrew his gaze and looked toward Dorian Gray Abraham opposite him.

“Where are the Planeswalker Beyonder characteristics?”

Dorian, who had already written down The Fool’s honorific name, thought for two seconds.

“Two portions exist in our family in the form of Grade 0 sealed artifacts. One evolved into the Box of the Great Old Ones. One is said to be in the hands of the Demoness Sect. One is in the Church of the God of Combat. And as for one more, since the Second Epoch, no one has known where it went. No one has ever found it.”

If I can use the Box of the Great Old Ones to exchange for one of the Abraham family’s relatively normal Grade 0 sealed artifacts, then I don’t need to worry about where to obtain a Planeswalker Beyonder characteristic. But that advancement ritual is truly headache-inducing… Moreover, the essence of the ritual is clearly to leave a mark in the starry sky. No matter how it is modified, the starry sky cannot be bypassed… Klein controlled his expression and nodded to Dorian.

“I hope that when the red moon turns full, you will find your answer.”

After speaking, his figure swiftly faded. He had reached the limit of what Forsi could maintain.

Dorian watched Gehrman Sparrow “leave” just like that. Almost instinctively, he lowered his head and glanced at the paper in his hand that held The Fool’s honorific name, only to discover that it too had become illusory and vanished.

“…” Dorian was unable to find the correct answer among the various Beyonder powers recorded by his family. He turned toward Forsi, opening his mouth, intending to ask a question.

Just then, a sudden pain stabbed through his heart, and his pupils abruptly dilated.

Terrible! The curse is about to erupt! Dorian hurriedly reached into his hidden pocket, took out a small metal bottle, twisted off the cap, brought it to his mouth, and swallowed everything in one gulp.

Clang!

His movements were too hurried, causing the small metal bottle’s cap to fall to the floor.

Forsi watched helplessly as her teacher’s face turned deathly pale and as he clutched his chest. For a moment, she failed to react to what had happened.

As a former surgeon, she swiftly made a judgment and hurriedly asked, “Teacher, do you have heart disease?

“Did you bring medicine?”

Only after asking that second question did Forsi realize that she had been too urgent and too concerned, making her seem a little foolish:

The bottle her teacher had just drunk from was definitely the medicine!

“Do you still need help? I have a Doctor’s ability Recorded.” Seeing her teacher’s expression relax, Forsi asked again.

Dorian shook his head, indicating that there was no longer a problem.

At the same time, he sighed inwardly:

It was precisely because you didn’t follow the expected plan and directly summoned Gehrman Sparrow inside the room, leaving me no time to take the medicine, that things ended up like this.

…

Sonia Sea, Rorsted Archipelago, Bayam, the City of Generosity.

The Blue Avenger entered the harbor near evening.

During the previous period, the Church of Storms’ destruction of Sonia Island’s maritime supply lines had finally drawn the action of Feysac Empire demigods. Several “captains” had perished as a result, and the fleet had suffered an extremely serious blow.

Alger Wilson and his sailors, who had been waiting within the island’s primitive forest for a chance to attack the port, had avoided this strike. After the Church of Storms and the Loen navy announced that the current operation had basically achieved its objective and could end, they returned to Pasu Island to rest and reorganize.

Afterward, Alger deliberately requested to join the battle again, displaying both devout fervor and passionate generosity. He received praise from the cardinals.

Because he was familiar with the Rorsted Archipelago, he was naturally assigned here to strengthen the naval power of this important colony.

Of course, to avoid contradicting his past identity, and to leave a thread for future matters, Alger and his sailors arrived in Bayam under the name of recruited pirates.

During this war, many pirates had been recruited and had become effective supplements to the navies of various countries, much like mercenaries in the early to middle Fourth Epoch.

Taking advantage of the remaining light in the sky, Alger disembarked and headed straight for the Church of Waves, where Sea King Yan Kottman was stationed.

As a Sequence 5 Ocean Songster, he already possessed the qualifications to directly meet a cardinal of the Church of Storms and a senior deacon of the Mandated Punishers.

As he walked, Alger suddenly saw an acquaintance.

It was a middle-aged man in formalwear, wearing a bow tie and spectacles, looking rather refined. But Alger knew very well that this was a believer of Sea God Kalvetua, a former pirate who had now become a merchant with connections in both the legitimate and illegitimate worlds.

“Ralph, long time no see,” Alger greeted the illegitimate child of mixed Loen, Feysac, and Rorsted descent.

Ralph froze briefly, seeming not to immediately recognize him as the captain of the Blue Avenger.

“Alger? Our ghost-ship captain?” After several seconds, he asked with slight surprise.

Alger smiled.

“Have I changed that much?”

Ralph frowned faintly and replied, “Your bearing has changed a great deal. You seem more like the sea and clouds before a storm.”

Good eye… But this is something I’m deliberately projecting… After consuming the Ocean Songster potion, if I didn’t have this kind of change, I wouldn’t seem very much like a member of the Church of Storms… Alger sighed and said, “There are too many things to worry about.

“It’s all right now. I have already been hired by the Church of Storms.”

Ralph’s eyes narrowed slightly. A hint of wariness abruptly rose in his heart, but on the surface, he laughed heartily.

“That truly is a good thing—if there were no war.”

Alger glanced at the place Ralph had just come out from and asked instead, “When did this place gain a school?”

At a glance, he could see four-story buildings, a cement playground, a garden lawn, and many children playing happily.

Those children all had darker skin, but some did not approach the bronze color of the local natives. Their hair was only somewhat naturally curled, not particularly obvious.

Without question, that portion were mixed-blood children.

Ralph looked back and smiled with a sigh.

“Didn’t you donate to my charity foundation before?

“Under the guidance of God, I established several schools in the island’s major cities, specifically providing education, three meals a day, and lodging for these discriminated children.

“Our childhoods were not bright enough. I do not want theirs to be the same.”

While Ralph answered, Alger kept gazing at that school. Only after the words ended did he withdraw his gaze.

“I originally thought you would pocket at least half of it.”

Ralph laughed helplessly.

“It seems I left you with a truly awful impression.

“So, what opinions do you have about this school?”

Alger looked him up and down for a while.

“Do I look like someone who went to school?”

He paused, then added, “Which street is your charity foundation on? I may have something to find you about later.”

Thinking that Alger had already been employed by the Church of Storms, Ralph did not dare expose that he still had ties to the resistance. He chuckled.

“Donations are fine. For anything else, don’t come.”

After giving the charity foundation’s address, Ralph returned all the way to his home. He went up to the second floor and knocked on the door of a certain room.

“Lord Danitz, I have something to report.”

From inside the room, a low, dignified voice responded:

“Come in.”

…

Backlund, Chorwood Borough.

Dorian, who had rented a house here, walked to the window and watched the sun set and the sky gradually darken.

Tonight, the red moon would turn full. The curse of the Abraham family would descend once more.

Dorian had not shaved for many days. Around his mouth, along his cheeks, and over his chin, gray-white stubble had grown, clashing strangely with the appearance of a middle-aged man.

After gazing for a while, Dorian lowered his head and recited in Jotun:

“The Fool that doesn’t belong to this era…”

After the prayer, he returned to the center of the room, found a sofa, and sat down, waiting for the red moon to rise, waiting for the period when spirituality would be strongest.

At that moment, above the gray fog, inside the ancient palace, Klein had already sat in the position belonging to The Fool and beckoned over a paper figurine.

Wrapped by the power of Sefirah Castle, the paper figurine passed through Dorian’s prayer light and landed on his body.

During this process, Klein deliberately did not reveal the effect, allowing the “angel” to silently embrace Dorian.

He felt that if Mr. Fool’s presence was too strong, it might instead frighten a member of such an ancient family. Therefore, he chose to remain low-key.

The process of waiting for the result was always tormenting. From time to time, Dorian took out his pocket watch, snapped it open, and glanced at it, wanting to know how much longer remained until the spiritually strongest moment of the full-moon night. This could be calculated through mysticism knowledge.

Finally, close to midnight, Dorian instinctively bent his back, wanting to reduce the pain brought by the curse.

Yet as seconds and minutes passed, all was quiet by his ears. No buzzing sounded. No ravings arose.

Crimson moonlight passed through the window and shone upon Dorian. He lifted his head somewhat blankly, feeling only serenity, stillness, peace, and quiet indifference around him. No abnormalities appeared at all.

Dorian then looked out the window and saw that crimson full moon: holy, dignified, gentle, dreamlike, as though suspended above his very heart.

After a long silence, Dorian lowered his head, took out his pocket watch, and opened it with a snap.

“…”

He raised his right hand, rubbed his eyes, and took the opportunity to cover his face, not lowering his hand for a very long time.

The gray-white stubble upon his face gradually became disheveled, stained with tears and snot.