Chapter 11: Hunting

Chapter 11: Hunting

“Honorable Arrodes, my second question is: how did Sherlock Moriarty escape from the ruin?” Ikanser’s mood was considerably lighter than before.

A faint glow flickered across the surface of the silver mirror, swiftly sketching out the image of Sherlock Moriarty with his back against a wall, his fists sometimes loosening, sometimes clenching tight.

Then Ikanser Bernard and the nearby deacons and captains of the Machinery Hivemind saw the private detective reveal an exaggerated smile, turn sharply, draw his gun, and rush out.

At that instant, perhaps because of the composition of the scene, everyone present inexplicably felt a sense of tragic grandeur and stirring courage.

The image within the mirror jumped. It now showed Sherlock Moriarty gripping his revolver and firing at the altar, only for the shots to have no effect. Watching those Beyonder bullets be peeled apart one after another, the onlookers could not help but feel a little anxious on his behalf.

Immediately after, Sherlock Moriarty threw out a key made of brass, and the altar showed signs of pollution and instability.

A blast of air erupted. Mr. A fell to the ground, while Sherlock Moriarty tumbled, rolled, and fled from the temple-like building.

At this point, the image shifted again. The slightly turbid Tasok River became the main backdrop. Sherlock Moriarty and Mr. A floated in the water at the same time, both looking up into the air. There, above them, was a patch of blankness without even clouds or mist.

Almost instantly, Mr. A became transparent and vanished, leaving only Sherlock Moriarty behind, looking around in astonishment.

“…A rescue from the Church of Evernight?” Ikanser frowned slightly. “Unfortunately, he did not mention in his letter what appeared at that moment, so we have no way to guess. Did he want to sell this secret for a good price, or was he simply affected and lost the relevant memories? Also, his experience escaping from that underground ruin was not shown at all. It seems to have been hidden along with the corresponding clues…”

He quickly analyzed the matter in formulaic terms, then, with not too great a psychological burden, defined the equal treatment as an answer rather than a risk.

Arrodes does not seem to have much spirit for mischief today. I can make full use of that… While Ikanser was comforting himself, he saw bloody words surface on the mirror.

His heart gave a thud. A bad premonition rose within him, and he suspected that Arrodes had already adjusted itself and recovered its “condition.”

Words that looked as though they were painted in fresh blood squirmed rapidly, forming a question.

“Who is the person for whom you gave everything and tried with all your might to please, only to be abandoned in the end?”

With a buzzing sound in his ears, Ikanser’s face first lost all color, then flushed crimson.

This question not only stabbed into a hidden wound deep in his heart, but also left him completely at a loss.

If I say who he is, my reputation will be finished before tonight… I have already become a “legend” in a certain sense… Ikanser swallowed with difficulty and said in a tragic voice, “I choose punishment.”

A bolt of lightning immediately descended. But unlike before, it was no longer silver-white; it was stained with a trace of green.

It struck Ikanser squarely on the crown of his head, making every strand of his hair stand on end and reflect the lightning’s color.

He shook violently like dice rattling in a cup, as though he had been injected with some hallucinogenic drug.

Archbishop Horamick sighed, closed his eyes, and murmured to himself, “A Grade 0 Sealed Artifact?”

Only after Ikanser recovered did he look around and say, “There is one more question. Where did Sherlock Moriarty obtain the key that destroyed the descent ritual?

“Who among you will use 2-111?”

The deacons and captains of the Machinery Hivemind looked at one another. For a moment, no one answered.

…

Water splashed against the hull. Between heaven and earth, there seemed to be only that single sound. The sea at night was both noisy and silent.

Klein suddenly woke. Opening his eyes, he saw the wooden ceiling draped in the crimson veil of the moon.

His spiritual intuition told him that something was happening outside.

Who is having a tryst? He listened carefully and vaguely caught a few unnatural sounds.

After a brief moment of thought, Klein sat up, put on his gloves, and draped his coat over himself.

His eyes darkened as he took out a gold coin, tossed it upward, and quickly performed a divination.

After receiving the revelation that there was no real danger, he pulled out the revolver hidden beneath his pillow and slipped it into his pocket.

With the corresponding preparations complete, Klein opened the door and left the room, following the sound to the upper deck.

At this moment, far from industrial pollution, the crimson moon hung quietly over the sea, mysterious and dreamlike.

Carefully avoiding several patrolling crewmen, Klein arrived at the area where the movement had come from and smelled a faint trace of blood.

By the moonlight, he looked over and discovered that the former adventurer Cleeves was crouched beside the ship’s rail, arranging something.

More than ten meters away from him, in the shadow of the cabin, three people were hiding. One was Cleeves’s companion, the female bodyguard in a black coat. The other two were the children of their employer: a girl of fourteen or fifteen and a young gentleman under the age of ten.

The two minors wore thick cotton nightgowns beneath woolen coats. One could tell at a glance that they had come out in quite a hurry.

In the cold night wind, they were shivering slightly, yet they remained full of energy as they crouched there, staring at Cleeves with bright, intent eyes.

A game of hide-and-seek? Klein joked inwardly.

He deliberately made his footsteps heavier, causing Cleeves and the others to turn their gazes toward him.

“Friend, what happened?” Klein asked, recalling the demeanor of some bounty hunters he had known in the East Borough.

Even so, he maintained the cold and sharp quality particular to the identity of Gehrman Sparrow.

Cleeves’s expression did not change.

“A private job. An unexpected yet promising hunt.”

A hunt? Klein was suddenly interested.

The reason he had chosen Gehrman as the name for this identity was because it represented the First Hunter in a game he had played in his previous life, and was rather fitting for his idea of hunting evil at sea.

Klein did not rush to ask for the reason. With some amusement, he pointed with his left hand—wearing Creeping Hunger—toward the shadows nearby.

“A private job? In front of your employer?”

Cleeves, still crouched, glanced at the girl and boy. His tone did not change.

“Cecile was not careful enough and woke Donna and Denton. We could only let them come along.”

Hearing her name mentioned, the girl called Donna wrinkled her nose and lifted her face curiously toward Klein.

“Uncle, are you an adventurer too?”

Uncle? Even the me from Earth would at most be ten years older than you! Klein replied with amusement, “No, you cannot use the word ‘too.’ Strictly speaking, I am the only adventurer here. They are bodyguards now.”

He turned to Cleeves.

“Hey, mate. What prey did you discover?”

Cleeves looked at the seawater tinged with a faint crimson hue.

“A murloc.”

A murloc? That is a Beyonder creature! Although it is the lowest grade, it is still quite troublesome for ordinary people to deal with. They would need at least five or six people and four or five guns to have any confidence… Right, murloc scales are very tough. A handgun can only half-penetrate them; one needs a repeating rifle… Klein raised his brows and asked, “What do you plan to do? And how can you be certain it is a murloc?”

Cleeves pointed at the edge of the ship’s rail.

“There are faint traces of corrosion left by the mucus on its body. One to two hours ago, it tried to climb onto the ship and attack passengers, but the deck was still lively then, with many sailors and crewmen around.”

Klein stepped forward and saw that the edge of the ship’s rail indeed bore slight bluish-green corrosive marks.

Recalling information he had encountered back in Tingen, he verified that the written contents were accurate and asked with interest, “Why are you certain there is only one, rather than a group?”

He remembered that murlocs tended to live communally.

“If there were a group, they would directly damage the bottom of the ship and sink everyone. Besides, groups of murlocs along this route and in the surrounding waters were cleared out long ago. The people of the Church of Storms are very fond of hunting them,” Cleeves explained in a low voice.

That is because murlocs are very likely one of the main ingredients for the Sequence 9 Sailor potion… Klein stroked the revolver in his pocket and asked with a smile, “Are you confident?”

Cleeves did not answer directly. He opened a paper package beside him. Inside were the bloody organs of pigs and cattle. They were the source of the blood scent Klein had smelled.

“All murlocs like this kind of food. They cannot resist the temptation. Of course, these monsters love human organs most of all, which is why many maritime legends emphasize keeping pig or cattle organs, or canned organs, in a ship’s kitchen.” As Cleeves spoke, he sprinkled some granules over them. “Peppercorns make murlocs excited as though they have smoked marijuana, causing them to lose a certain degree of balance. This lasts for about a minute. After that, once the state of extreme excitement fades, the murloc becomes very tired.”

He then took out a wooden box from within his clothes and smeared a jade-green paste onto the tips of a triangular spike, a dagger, and a short blade.

“The mint paste popular in Pritz Harbor is a unique sweet for humans. But in the eyes of a murloc, it is a lethal blood toxin.

“In addition, I borrowed two rifles from the sailors and obtained a promise that no one will disturb this area for twenty minutes. It cost quite a bit of money, but as long as we successfully hunt one murloc, the return will be ten, twenty, even thirty times the cost.”

As expected of an experienced adventurer. He understands the prey’s weaknesses and problems exceptionally well… From what he says, I feel they truly have a chance to successfully hunt this murloc, even though they are not Beyonders… Low-Sequence Beyonders are indeed not much stronger than ordinary people when facing traps and firearms… It is not as though low-Sequence Beyonders have never died in gang shootouts… However, a murloc is like someone wearing a suit of full-body armor. It will be injured, but not necessarily unable to escape… Klein asked curiously, “You seem to have killed quite a few murlocs.”

“Understanding the traits of common sea monsters is the prerequisite for an adventurer’s survival.” Cleeves showed no joy at the praise and remained calm.

As the two conversed, the girl Donna and the boy Denton crouched in the shadows, listening with great relish, feeling as though this was the most interesting thing in the world.

Mm, I should make up for my lack of knowledge in this area too… Klein smiled and said, “I see. Am I disturbing you?”

As Cleeves threaded some of the organs onto the hanging pole, he said in a low voice, “If you want to participate, take care of Donna and Denton, so Cecile will not be distracted.”

“Gladly.” Klein, who had wanted to observe from the side, agreed with a smile.