Chapter 143: A Difficult Choice

Chapter 143: A Difficult Choice

After sitting there in a daze for some time, Klein raised a hand, rubbed his forehead, and stood. He took four steps counterclockwise and entered the space above the gray fog.

He then conjured Gehrman Sparrow and, by praying to Mr. Fool, transmitted two separate messages to Danitz and The Hermit Cattleya.

To the former, he warned him to be careful of the Secret Order in the near future. Although Klein did not believe Zaratul would go directly to Danitz—someone openly known to have interacted with Gehrman Sparrow—there was still no harm in giving a warning.

As a Bizarro Sorcerer, Klein had a certain understanding of Beyonders of the Seer pathway. He believed those who could truly grow to high levels were all sufficiently cautious and careful. There might be exceptions and oddities among them, but Zaratul, a Sequence 1, certainly would not be one.

Under the current circumstances, in the eyes of an angel who grasped enough secrets, Danitz would look more like bait deliberately thrown out to hook certain targets. Therefore, Zaratul would most likely avoid him with considerable caution. At most, He would send members of the Secret Order to carry out indirect, side investigations.

For the same reason, Klein’s message to The Hermit Cattleya contained similar content, but that was not the main point. More importantly, he asked her to immediately contact the Queen of Mysteries, Bernadette, and say that Gehrman Sparrow wished to meet her as soon as possible.

In addition, Klein also told the Admiral of Stars ahead of time about something he had originally intended to delay until the next Tarot Gathering: he asked her to decide whether she wanted to purchase the potion formulas for Sequence 5 Druid and Sequence 4 Classical Alchemist of the Planter pathway.

…

West of the Berserk Sea, on Celos Island.

Danitz, who was there gathering clues on the whereabouts of Vice Admiral Ailment, was holding a glass filled with golden beer when his expression suddenly grew exceedingly complicated.

“What? Did you see someone and remember some unspeakable experience?” Anderson swirled the Lelang Qi malt liquor in his hand and laughed, teasing Danitz for his sudden abnormal state.

Danitz gulped down a mouthful of beer, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and said with rather gloomy restraint, “We’ll need to be careful of people from the Secret Order next…”

Ever since he had come to know Gehrman Sparrow, he had often heard similar warnings. His reaction had gone from initial panic and helplessness to the current numbness and depression.

He suspected that one day, every organization great and small—those he could name and those he couldn’t—would end up wanting him dead. The only exception would probably be Mr. Fool’s.

Anderson looked Danitz up and down a few times, then clicked his tongue and laughed.

“Sometimes I feel Gehrman Sparrow is more like a Hunter than I am.

“Heh. So you two have a special way of contacting each other, and you don’t even need to summon a messenger.”

Danitz was about to brush him off with a few casual words when, at the entrance to the tavern, an Intisian rushed in holding a telegram.

“Feysac has launched an air raid on Backlund! Loen has officially declared war!”

Declared war? Anderson and Danitz exchanged glances. Relying on the instincts of their pathway, both keenly caught the scent of large-scale war.

…

“Feysac attacked Backlund and Pritz Harbor. Loen has officially declared war… Three ironclad fleets were not in port and suffered no losses. They are currently returning to the Loen coast one after another…” The Admiral of Stars Cattleya’s fleet happened to be passing by Oravi Island, allowing her to gather various pieces of information from the telegrams coming and going.

She was just about to consider how a pirate crew should conduct itself under such circumstances when she suddenly saw the boundless gray fog and heard The World Gehrman Sparrow’s words.

“Be careful of the Secret Order. Be careful of Zaratul…” Cattleya, who in a sense could be considered Intisian, paid attention first to what was actually the least important matter.

It was precisely because of this that she had no doubts regarding The World Gehrman Sparrow’s request to meet the Queen as quickly as possible. She believed this was an extension of matters related to the Secret Order and Zaratul.

Finally, her lips parted slightly, and she murmured the names of the two potions.

“Druid… Classical Alchemist…

“The modern name of this Sequence 4 should be Ancient Alchemist. It used to be called Human Alchemist…”

Cattleya unconsciously walked to the window and cast her gaze downward. At that moment, on the sea where the time differed from Backlund’s, Frank Lee and the Artisan Scharf were leaning against the side of the ship, basking in the sunset. The former’s face was relaxed and at ease, though his eyes held a trace of puzzlement, as if some problem remained unsolved. The latter’s face was pale, his lips trembling, while mushroom after mushroom was scattered across his clothes.

Druid… Ancient Alchemist… The Admiral of Stars Cattleya repeated those terms again and felt as though something heavy had pressed down upon her.

After more than ten seconds, Cattleya pushed up the heavy glasses on the bridge of her nose and comforted herself inwardly.

“Mr. Fool gave no warning. That means it isn’t a serious problem…”

With that thought, specks of brilliant starlight drifted down, condensing into a staircase of light between the captain’s cabin window and the deck.

Cattleya descended along the steps and came beside Frank Lee and Scharf.

After several seconds of silence, Cattleya asked, “Frank, what is your ideal?”

Only then did Frank Lee notice that the captain had arrived. He pushed down with one hand and flipped himself upright.

“Ideal?”

The Biologist thought carefully, then said, “To study soil, crops, and hybridization techniques without restriction. Also, to make it so humanity no longer suffers famine, and to make people equal to one another—what you can do, I can do too; what you can grow, I can grow as well…”

Hearing this, the Artisan Scharf slowly rolled over, crouched to the side, opened his mouth, and began vomiting.

Frank Lee was not affected in the slightest and continued, “And for such a world to exist, there must be sufficient food and resources. So I hope to create all kinds of living beings that can adapt to different environments and conditions. Heh, everyone has their own preferences. I personally like fish, cattle, and spores…”

The Admiral of Stars Cattleya listened to Frank’s declaration expressionlessly, merely pushing her thick glasses up three times during the process.

After a moment of silence, Cattleya asked, “Your current research is only missing the final step?”

“That’s right. It’s just missing some catalysis from the Druid abilities. If I still can’t get the formula, I was thinking of having Scharf help me turn the Druid Beyonder characteristic I have into a mystical item,” Frank answered openly.

“No! I won’t help you! You devil!” Scharf, who had been silently vomiting, raised his head and shouted urgently.

Cattleya quietly watched this scene. With a flip of her hand, she produced a gold coin from somewhere.

Clang!

The coin first spun into the air, then fell into Cattleya’s palm. The side showing the head faced upward.

“There is a Druid potion formula now. It comes from Gehrman Sparrow. The price is 5,000 pounds.” Cattleya spoke in considerable detail, as though deliberately saying it for the Artisan Scharf’s benefit, letting him know who the true “culprit” was.

Pure joy instantly filled Frank Lee’s eyes.

“He really is a good man!

“Uh, Captain, I’ve only saved up 3,000 pounds so far. Can you lend me 2,000 pounds?”

Most of his previous savings had gone into purchasing the Druid Beyonder characteristic. He had even sold off some of his possessions for it.

Once again, Cattleya fell silent. After a few seconds, under Frank Lee’s earnest, expectant gaze, she nodded.

“All right.”

…

North Borough, Backlund Medical College Affiliated Hospital.

Eudora lay on the hospital bed with a numb expression, not a trace of a young girl’s vitality left in her.

She had awakened from unconsciousness long ago, but had not opened her eyes. Because of that, she had heard the doctor tell her parents that the right leg injured in the air raid might not be saved, and that they had to prepare for amputation.

Afterward, she lay there in a daze, sensing that many people came one after another. Among them, Director Audrey of the Loen Charity Bursary Foundation, who had originally only come to visit the student in the next bed, heard about her situation and expressed willingness to shoulder the cost of her subsequent treatment. School principal Mr. Portland Momont also promised to manufacture the most advanced and convenient mechanical prosthetic limb for her, one that would allow her to walk like a normal person.

Yet none of that dispersed the grayness, heaviness, grief, and despair in Eudora’s heart.

She was not yet eighteen. She had not even had time to taste the beauty of life, and yet she was going to lose a leg—lose her dreams.

Her family could not be considered wealthy. Her father was a grocery store owner who believed in the Lord of Storms. He was crude and savage, unwilling to reason with women. Her mother was timid and weak, surviving in dependence on her father, while relying on diligence to supplement the household income. If their family had had a second child, Eudora would never have been able to study at all. And even so, the school her father had chosen for her was Backlund Technical School, a place where results could be seen quickly.

Not long ago, she had still sighed over her own fortune. Backlund Technical School had actually been reorganized into Backlund Technical University, and she had passed the examination, becoming a true university student. It had filled every day with smiles for her, allowing her to pass that happiness on to those around her, and even gave her spare time to pursue poetry.

Eudora’s dream was to remain at the school in the future and become a university teacher, to find a husband whom she liked and who liked her in return, and to continue writing poetry, hoping one day to have her work published in magazines and newspapers.

Now, all of that had been destroyed by a bomb falling from the sky.

Ruthlessly. Coldly. Completely.

After an unknown amount of time, Eudora silently pulled the blanket up and covered her face. A thin sob escaped her, like the whimper of a young beast.