Chapter 72: Exploration

Chapter 72: Exploration

Verdu subconsciously swallowed. An indescribable fear rose inside him.

He did not even know what exactly he was afraid of. There had clearly been no substantial danger—only a single drop of liquid of unknown origin falling from above—yet it made his spine go cold and his pores contract.

Perhaps the environment here was too gloomy and deathly still, or perhaps the identity and source of the liquid were unknown… Verdu cautiously moved two steps outward and patiently began observing.

Over the next few minutes, no further abnormality occurred. No more liquid fell from above.

This allowed Verdu to reasonably suspect that a bird had merely flown past earlier, carrying a sea fish or freshwater fish from some island stream in its beak, and that the fish’s surface had dripped a somewhat viscous liquid.

He calmed himself, then examined the ruins of the telegraph office again.

Nearly ten minutes passed. Verdu preliminarily confirmed that only the blood-colored marks and the simple mural had any connection to mysticism and were worth studying.

He did not rashly collect the blood-colored soil or make a rubbing of the strange mural. Instead, he took out a pure, dreamlike crystal ball from his clothing pocket.

As an Astrologer, he naturally had to use the method he was best at to confirm whether he should act.

Holding the crystal ball in his left hand and stroking the space above it with his right, Verdu entered a state of Astrology.

The next second, that crystal ball bloomed with bright light.

Bang!

It directly exploded, scattering fragments in every direction.

…Verdu’s gaze froze, and he stood dazed in place, even ignoring the pain from the shards that had embedded themselves in his body.

“It exploded… It actually exploded…” he muttered in a low voice, unable to accept it.

The crystal ball fragments that had lodged in his body did not seem to have pierced through the classical robe. They now fell one after another, without the slightest stain of blood.

Of course, on Verdu’s jaw and face, a small number of crystal ball fragments remained, creating one small wound after another.

“Who is there?” Verdu suddenly snapped awake and turned toward the other side.

From the ruins opposite him, a figure walked out. It was the woman from the pirate ship whose clothing was somewhat revealing.

She had originally hidden herself very well and had not been discovered by Verdu. But the crystal ball’s explosion had startled her, causing an overreaction and an obvious movement that made her fail in her stealth.

Verdu’s wounded face immediately twisted a little.

“Why are you here?”

The woman raised the corners of her mouth, putting on a careless attitude.

“This is Bansy Harbor, not your home. Why can’t I be here?”

“I was bored, so I came ashore to walk around. I hoped to pick up some jewels or accessories in the ruins. Is there a problem?”

She asked two questions in a row and showed no intention of distancing herself from Verdu.

Verdu did not argue with her. He took out the medicinal salve and medical alcohol he had prepared beforehand and treated the wounds on his face and chin. He also placed every crystal ball fragment he had pulled out back into his clothing pocket.

He did not want to leave blood in such a rather bizarre place.

Next, Verdu tugged at a decorative part of the classical robe.

It was a door-shaped pattern composed of three rubies, three emeralds, and three diamonds.

Almost instantly, the robe abruptly tightened, causing the flesh all over Verdu’s body to bulge piece by piece.

Just as Verdu’s bones were about to snap, his figure gradually faded and vanished from where he stood.

Then he “teleported” to the seaside mountain peak outside Bansy Harbor.

The mountain peak had also collapsed and become a ruin piled with rocks.

As far as Verdu knew, this place had once been where the people of Bansy sacrificed to the Weather God, and it had also been a key target in the Church of Storms’ attack.

—After the crystal ball had warned him through self-destruction that an unknown danger was hidden in Bansy Telegraph Office, Verdu no longer dared continue exploring there or collect mysticism materials. He could only forcibly shift to the next predetermined location.

This also let him shake off the woman’s tracking.

The moment Verdu’s figure appeared, he bent his back and gasped heavily, feeling as though he had finally recovered from suffocation.

At the same time, a stabbing pain came from his right ribs. It seemed that one bone had already broken.

After taking several deep breaths, he endured the pain, sweat appearing on his forehead, and took a few steps forward to reach the altar marked on the map.

Without question, the altar had already been destroyed. Only a gigantic, slightly blackened glassy pit remained. Around it lay scattered broken stones of various shapes.

More or less, all those broken stones bore traces of being burned by fire and struck by lightning.

Verdu Abraham looked around, then raised his right hand and shook his sleeve.

A sudden whoosh of wind appeared. Some of the very small stones were “pushed” away from where they lay, exposing the ground they had covered.

This was the Trickmaster’s Wind Creation. Verdu used it in place of manual labor, ensuring his own safety to the greatest extent.

As those small stones “flew” away, Verdu saw the similarly blackened ground. In certain places, tiny remnants of extremely incomplete patterns, designs, and symbols remained.

Whoosh!

The wind grew more intense, roaring by Verdu’s ears and making him raise his head in surprise, looking high into the sky.

At some unknown moment, the wind that had only been able to blow away small stones had turned into a hurricane. It “pushed” Verdu until even he began swaying.

Verdu then saw thick clouds gathering high above, as though a storm were about to descend.

Although he had heard that Bansy was a “weather museum,” he had never imagined the changes would come so suddenly.

For one moment, Verdu suspected that his Wind Creation had caused the storm, or that the earlier clearing of the altar ruins had triggered some kind of change.

That conjecture made cold sweat rapidly seep from his forehead.

Amid the raging storm, Verdu saw a pile of broken stones diagonally ahead fly upward, exposing a huge boulder buried beneath them.

The surface of the boulder was crisscrossed with one deep crack after another, giving the impression that it would split apart at the slightest touch.

At that moment, the wild wind calmed somewhat, while the heavy rain continued brewing.

Thinking that he had already come to Bansy Harbor and could not simply be frightened away, Verdu gathered his courage and approached the huge boulder covered in charred cracks.

He then took out a magnifying glass with strange patterns engraved on its handle and carefully examined the boulder’s condition.

Seven or eight minutes later, Verdu put away the magnifying glass, which was a mystical item, and sighed with considerable regret and frustration.

He had preliminarily confirmed that there was nothing wrong with the boulder. It involved nothing in mysticism.

Verdu was just about to withdraw his gaze and leave when he suddenly saw a little vivid red seep out at the place where the boulder’s bottom met the soil.

That bright red gradually expanded, like blood slowly spreading.

However, it did not soak too much of the area. It remained limited to a very small region.

In an instant, the two blood-red human-shaped marks in the ruins of the telegraph office flashed through Verdu’s mind, and his scalp prickled uncontrollably.

His lips swiftly became dry, and his intuition told him that this was nothing good.

Swallowing again, Verdu raised his right hand and once more created a gust of wind, making many tiny stones roll over and completely fill the base of the boulder, covering the red color that had seeped out.

He did not stay there any longer. Bracing himself, he once again activated Teleportation and headed to the final target location in his plan.

This time, another of his ribs broke. The pain nearly made him faint.

Together with the suffocating sensation brought by spatial compression, Verdu felt as though he were wandering along the edge of death.

It took him dozens of seconds to recover. Then he looked ahead.

This place was similarly a ruin. Collapsed houses covered the weed-grown ground.

According to a pirate who had previously explored Bansy’s ruins, there was an object here worth studying:

It was a very ordinary wooden door, yet it was the only thing in all of Bansy that had remained intact.

That pirate had not discovered anything special about the wooden door, so he had ordered his subordinates to lift it, intending to bring it back to the ship.

Yet after they had taken only two steps, they suddenly collapsed. Their heads, dragging their spines behind them, left their bodies and rolled to the side.

This terrified that pirate. He did not dare remain, and he hurriedly led the surviving crew away.

Verdu did not completely believe the other party’s story. Although he had not been active at sea much, he knew that sailors loved boasting. They always exaggerated a matter worth only two or three points into one worth eleven or twelve.

Still, even if that was boasting, Verdu believed the wooden door was worth studying.

After searching for some time, he found his target.

The extremely ordinary-looking wooden door leaned slantwise against a collapsed wall. It had a brass-colored keyhole and handle.

Seeing this, Verdu’s mood became a little more settled, and he raised his right hand, ready to rely on a Trickmaster’s ability to create wind and knock that wooden door directly to the ground.

But just as he was about to act, his gaze suddenly swept across a certain shadow.

“Who is there?” Verdu asked without much emotion.

The next second, a middle-aged man with a bulging belly walked out from the shadow.

He said nothing, silently moving away from this place.

While feeling fortunate, Verdu secretly breathed out in relief. Seizing the time, he approached the wooden door.

According to the information he had obtained, pushing this door from either side would not bring any extraordinary change, and touching it without attempting to move it posed no danger.

After thinking for a few seconds, Verdu withdrew his hand into his sleeve and used the classical robe as a “glove” to pull on the wooden door.

The wooden door stood upright. The surroundings remained quiet.

Verdu then pushed the door just as one would normally open a door, but he still could not see the slightest change.

He tried many different methods after that, yet none could make the wooden door display anything unusual. It truly seemed to have survived the Church of Storms’ city-destroying strike only because it had been extraordinarily lucky.

Drawing a deep breath, Verdu worked hard to recover his calm.

After thinking for a moment, he tried opening the door again.

This time, however, he did something different from before: he grasped the handle and gently twisted it downward.

After hearing the faint click of metal, Verdu pushed forward, making the wooden door slant backward and lean once more against the collapsed, broken wall.

This time, a stretch of grayish-white fog suddenly appeared before Verdu’s eyes.

Within the fog was a faintly discernible street, along with one row house after another.

Outside one of the row houses, a wooden sign seemed to be embedded. Several Loenese words appeared to be written on it:

“Bansy Harbor Telegraph Office.”

As Verdu’s pupils dilated, a calm voice came from inside the telegraph office shrouded by faint mist:

“Are you here to send a telegram?”

“Please come in.”