Chapter 131: Four Choices

Chapter 131: Four Choices

What kind of saint-level sealed artifact should I choose? Derrick Berg instinctively examined his own needs.

Because the Sun pathway naturally restrained those monsters in the darkness to a certain extent, and because he already possessed Thunder God’s Roar, he was not especially desperate for an offensive or supportive sealed artifact. On the other hand, the experience of being beaten until his whole body ached while trying to “make friends” had left him with an unconscious desire for a mystical item that could provide strong defense.

In the flash of a thought, Derrick suddenly came to himself. He realized that the essence of the question was not what saint-level sealed artifact he personally wanted, but which saint-level sealed artifact could be exchanged from Mr. Fool for the Creator’s cross.

After a brief hesitation, he asked frankly, “Your Excellency, Chief, do you have any suggestions?”

Colin looked at him once, left his original position, and slowly walked to the window. Turning back, he said, “There are four sealed artifacts that are relatively suitable for you.

“The first is called the Sword of Dawn Silver. It was left behind by an elder who died thirteen hundred years ago.

“While holding this straight sword, one can conceal one’s malice and certain actions, effectively interfere with divination and prophecy, obtain exaggerated strength, and bring dawn that resists evil and corruption to the surrounding area.

“It can also raise a destructive storm of light and create an invisible yet solid defensive wall around its wielder. Whenever it is connected to the earth, its protective power becomes difficult to shake.

“At the end of its hilt is a one-eyed, wide-mouthed head sculpture with living characteristics. Feeding this sculpture corresponding herbs, essential oils, or potions will cause the Sword of Dawn Silver to produce different effects, such as lightning strikes, freezing, purification, burning, decay, and exorcism.

“This sword has strict conditions for use. Anyone under 180 centimeters tall cannot lift it at all, and anyone shorter than 200 centimeters will find it difficult to unleash its full might. In addition, the one-eyed, wide-mouthed head sculpture at the end of the hilt loves to talk. It chatters endlessly. If the holder refuses to respond, then at some critical moment, the Sword of Dawn Silver might suddenly give up resisting, or even attack its master. And if the holder is willing to converse with that head sculpture, he will wander along the edge of madness.”

This is exactly what I want—a sealed artifact skilled in defense… Derrick muttered inwardly, but he did not interrupt the Chief’s narration. He quietly listened as Colin continued introducing the sealed artifacts.

“The second is the Twilight Mask. It came from the Chief before me. It is a mask made from a skull. It can conceal malice, thoughts, and behavioral tendencies, making the wearer seem like a dead person without any thoughts.

“As long as one wears this mask, one will possess the strength of a true giant and the authority to command the undead. Any living being that meets the wearer’s eyes will die immediately. Even one who possesses divinity will suffer severe injuries. Even without direct eye contact, any target caught within the wearer’s gaze will slowly wither, as though crossing the river of death inch by inch.

“The wearer of this mask can also create a terrifying Twilight Storm. Anything touched by that dim radiance will decline, rot, wither, die, and lose all sense of vitality.

“Most attacks other than purification are ineffective against one who wears the Twilight Mask, as though no one can kill a person who is already dead.

“This Twilight Mask is extremely powerful, but also extremely dangerous. Even if it does nothing at all and is merely placed somewhere, the people around it will begin dying one after another, for no reason and without warning. Therefore, it must be sealed properly…

“No matter who it is, after wearing this mask, they will hear shrieks and roars that seem to come from the depths of the Netherworld, echoing beside their ears without pause. It is a kind of mental attack powerful enough to drive one insane and make one lose reason. At the same time, as long as one wears this mask for more than five minutes, one will irreversibly become its slave.”

This sealed artifact is practically unusable. Although powerful, it can only be sealed… Uh… only a great existence like Mr. Fool could ignore its negative effects… Derrick opened his mouth, but no words came out.

Colin Iliad recalled the corresponding records and continued, “The third is called the Staff of Life. It can drive transcendent creatures with low intelligence and temporarily reduce their degree of madness. It can also use incomplete spirits and various materials to accomplish ultimate ‘life refinement.’ This can create ordinary humans capable of existing for a long time, and it can also manufacture various puppets used for battle and miscellaneous work, including stone golems, earth golems, and steel golems.

“Any living being struck by this staff will have their madness and loss-of-control tendencies increased. Their body will also have a certain chance of mutating and growing things such as watermelons, mushrooms, or wheat. Of course, these cannot be eaten and will cause corruption.

“Any living being touched by the head of the staff will heal, no matter how severe their injuries are, except for those who have already begun losing control.

“This staff will fill the surrounding area with vitality. Whether plants or animals, all will flourish and reproduce rapidly. Unfortunately, it has no effect on our cursed land.

“Those who carry the Staff of Life have a considerable chance of bodily mutation. The longer it is held, the higher the chance. This may lead to additional organs appearing, or certain parts going missing and being replaced by various plants.”

That sounds very sinister… Derrick inexplicably felt a bit afraid. At last, he could not hold himself back and asked, “What is the fourth sealed artifact?”

“It came from an out-of-control devil I hunted. I call it the Fallen Flute.

“It is an ordinary-looking silver flute, but once someone plays it, all life in the surrounding area will fall into an unavoidable illusion. Their emotions and desires—anger, sorrow, pain, greed, vanity, arrogance, melancholy, and others—will rapidly swell as a result, either detonating their minds, destroying their reason, or causing them to lose control.

“Near this Fallen Flute, aside from the holder, the thinking ability of all living beings will drop significantly, making them prone to mistakes.

“At the same time, the holder of the flute will become abnormally sensitive to danger. Sometimes, they can even foresee events that might threaten their life one or two days in advance.

“Wherever the Fallen Flute is located, people’s hearts will gradually fall. All kinds of desires will come to dominate, while faith will be cast aside. The holder will also become colder little by little and will eventually be unable to recover normal emotions. The more frequently it is used, and the longer it is carried, the deeper this becomes. This may well contradict one’s own pathway or corresponding acting method, increasing the risk of losing control.”

After finishing his introduction of the fourth sealed artifact, Colin Iliad turned his pale blue eyes, which seemed to hold countless stories, toward Derrick.

“What are your thoughts?”

“…I need some time to think,” Derrick answered with practiced fluency.

“Indeed. For you, this is an important matter. You cannot make a decision recklessly.” Colin nodded gently. “In three days, we will set out for the Afternoon Town camp. Before then, tell me your answer, and leave yourself enough time to become familiar with the sealed artifact.”

“Yes, Your Excellency, Chief.” Derrick bowed solemnly and left the room where the Chief was.

He did not hurry home to pray to Mr. Fool. Instead, he planned to go to the training grounds first and temper his various Sun domain divine arts.

This was a habit etched deep into the blood of every person in the City of Silver. Only those who were disciplined and endured hardship could survive longer upon this barren, dark land.

…

Backlund Bridge, inside a dim alley.

Xio once again met the MI9 officer who wore a golden mask and clearly harbored goodwill toward her.

“The Judge potion formula may take some more time,” the man in the golden mask said first.

This was because the investigation into Xio had not continued, but it also had not been declared over.

Xio pressed her lips together and nodded. Then, as though she had finally made up her mind, she said, “I don’t want that formula anymore.”

“You’re… giving up?” The man in the golden mask asked in surprise, unable to hide his delight.

Xio didn’t answer directly. She turned her head and glanced to the side.

“I… I want to exchange all the merit I’ve accumulated into pounds.”

After hearing her answer, the man in the golden mask nodded in relief.

“It’s best that you’ve thought things through.

“Let the past remain in the past. You, your mother, and your younger brother will have a brand-new, beautiful future.

“Mm. If the merit you’ve accumulated is exchanged into pounds, it should be around two thousand pounds. I’ll help you argue for a bit more. After that, you can continue serving as one of MI9’s peripheral members. Having an official identity is very useful for a wild Beyonder.”

Xio fell silent for a few seconds. Her lips moved for a while before she said, “Thank you.”

She could clearly feel the goodwill of the person before her, so her gratitude just now came from the heart.

However, she would not give up. The reason she had chosen pounds was that she had already reserved the Judge potion formula from The World Gehrman Sparrow—and that crazy adventurer had even claimed to possess the subsequent Disciplinary Paladin potion formula.

At the same time, her apparent abandonment would help Xio effectively dispel MI9’s suspicions.

After briefly explaining the progress of several previous commissions, Xio bade the man in the golden mask farewell and left the alley.

…

Tuesday morning. Forsi once again left home early and arrived at the Hat Trick Inn in Jowood Borough, where she met her teacher, Dorian Gray.

“These are the precautions for exploring the spirit world. This is Botis’s portrait.” Dorian covered his mouth with one hand and yawned, then handed a thick stack of papers to Forsi.

Forsi did not rush to read the materials. She directly cast her eyes upon the portrait.

It depicted a black-robed man who seemed to be under forty. His brown hair was slightly curled, yet somehow gave the impression of being unusually hard. His dark eyes were so deep they seemed to hide countless things.

So this is the Saint of Secrets… Forsi rubbed her fingers together and used her Trickmaster ability to burn the portrait.

“Good. Very cautious.” Dorian nodded in considerable approval.

He then picked up his suitcase and said to Forsi, “I need to return to Pritz Harbor. Staying in Backlund for too long will draw suspicion.”

Forsi knew that the situation in Backlund had been tense recently and wished her teacher would leave as soon as possible, so she did not try to keep him. She watched him leave the room.

Then, using Opening Door, she made her way to the alley behind the inn.

She had only just identified her direction and turned onto a street when she suddenly saw a person in a black windbreaker walking over.

That person glanced at her, then naturally shifted his gaze away. Forsi’s back muscles abruptly tightened.

His appearance was already reflected in her eyes:

Under forty, brown hair slightly curled, seemingly unusually hard, deep black eyes that seemed to hide countless things.