Chapter 200: Seeking “Food”

Chapter 200: Seeking “Food”

The Hermit Cattleya controlled herself and did not look toward The World Gehrman. In a deep, steady voice, she said, “Northeast of the Gargas Archipelago, there is a safe route that leads into that dangerous sea…”

She began with the abyssal fissure that divided the sea, then described the sun chariot that could not be looked at directly, the nights that could only be avoided through sleep, the terrifying ravings that filled the entire ocean, and the projection of the Giant King’s Court standing opposite a mountain in the dream world.

Throughout this process, she did not mention Gehrman Sparrow at all, deliberately avoiding bringing him into the account. As for the other abnormalities along the route, she only spoke of them briefly—for example, the region that bore the residual aura of the Earth Mother and could make hair grow wildly.

At the end, she focused on the sea ruin where a corpse lay sleeping, and the adventurers’ sailboat on which the bloody words “Fountain of Youth” had been written.

“This may mean that the Fountain of Youth is inside that ruin, and the corpse that can produce tremendous breathing sounds is its guardian.” The Hermit Cattleya stated the common speculation aboard the Future, but that did not mean it was her own judgment.

The Fountain of Youth… one of the six great treasure legends of the sea, the Fountain of Youth… The Hanged Man Alger’s heart stirred as he involuntarily considered the feasibility of exploring that ruin after Sequence 5.

Justice Audrey listened carefully. Then she shook her head with very slight movements.

“I do not think the final meaning of those bloody words is that the Fountain of Youth is inside that ruin.”

After a one-second pause, she tried analyzing the psychology of the dead.

“A person who encounters a monster’s attack and is about to die would not normally spend their last moments pointing out treasure. If he wanted to warn companions who came afterward, or family members searching for him, he should have written that there was danger here, or what the source of danger was. If he was trying to tell passing ships that there was a Fountain of Youth here, he lacked sufficient internal motivation to write something like that while on the verge of death—unless there was a conspiracy hidden within it, a conspiracy to lure people to that ruin in search of the Fountain of Youth, and that conspiracy would somehow allow him to be saved.”

“Exactly. If it were me, I also wouldn’t desperately try to tell others that there was treasure here before I died. What meaning would that have to me?” The Moon Emlyn echoed. “Only hatred—only hatred etched into my bones—would make me write such things on the brink of death. Otherwise, I would rather tell people how I should be buried and what grave goods I need!”

At the end, he clicked his tongue and shook his head.

Klein nodded almost imperceptibly and manipulated The World to speak in a hoarse voice:

“The Fountain of Youth is a fraud.”

He used an absolute affirmative sentence, adding no words like perhaps, possibly, or should.

The Fountain of Youth is a fraud… Cattleya glanced at The World, thoughtfully withdrawing her gaze.

This seemed to corroborate certain guesses and ideas in her heart.

The Hanged Man Alger, however, frowned as he listened. It was not that he refused to accept The World’s judgment, nor that he felt Miss Justice and Mr. Moon’s arguments made no sense. Rather, he discovered that he had not considered that possibility at all just now!

For him, that was a mistake he should not have made.

…After all these years, I still sometimes let immense profit briefly blind me… He fell silent for several seconds and suddenly sighed.

After they finished sharing their respective experiences, everyone began teaching Little Sun ancient Hermes and learning various mysticism-related knowledge from one another.

Time passed quickly. Once everyone tacitly stopped, The Fool Klein looked around and said, “This shall be all.”

“By Your will.” Justice Audrey immediately rose, lightly lifted the edges of her illusory skirt, and curtsied. The other members followed almost simultaneously.

Watching the blurry figures disappear before him one after another, Klein did not immediately leave. He conjured parchment and a round-bellied fountain pen, then wrote down a divination statement:

“My hope of advancing to Sequence 4.”

After putting down the fountain pen, Klein held the parchment, leaned back against his chair, closed his eyes, entered meditation, and silently recited the divination statement.

Seven repetitions later, he quickly fell asleep and entered the dream world.

The gray, foggy sky and earth split open. He saw a majestic mountain peak towering into the clouds.

At the top of the mountain stood a collapsed and decayed palace. Its walls were overgrown with weeds and moss, and clear holes had appeared in them.

Inside the palace hall, at the seat of honor, was a huge chair carved from stone. It was inlaid with dim gold and gemstones, but many parts were mottled and damaged.

Upon that chair, which did not seem to have been prepared for humans, countless transparent maggots had gathered into a mass. They were densely intertwined, slowly wriggling, constantly growing.

Around the chair, ravings pierced through long stretches of time and history, arriving in an illusory, ethereal echo that lingered without end:

“Hornacis… Flegrea… Hornacis… Flegrea… Hornacis… Flegrea…”

As the ravings entered his ears, Klein abruptly woke. His face wrinkled slightly.

“It really is on the main peak of the Hornacis mountain range. And this time I saw more clearly and heard more clearly than before…”

That made him think of the prophetic sentence spoken by Bernadette, the Queen of Mysteries:

“Your fate lies at the main peak of the Hornacis mountain range.”

So this is my fate? It makes me want to rebel against it and simply not go… Sigh. I can’t be absolute. I’ll see how things turn out… Klein sighed, then conjured the five “wanted notices” Emlyn White had provided and, combining them with existing information, used divination to search for the whereabouts of the five Primordial Moon believers.

In the end, due to insufficient information, he could only confirm two points:

“Galise Kevin, Windsor Behring, and Argos are all in Backlund.

“Of Dandy and Laura, one is in Enmat Harbor, and the other is in Pritz Harbor.”

That’s basically no gain at all… Klein shook his head and returned to the real world.

Thinking that he had already promised Little Sun he would provide the Notary potion formula within three days, he put on his coat, donned his hat, and prepared to go out to search for a target.

Opening his door and arriving at the staircase, Klein saw Anderson Hood spinning a deerstalker cap in his hand while humming a country song and walking up step by step.

This fellow’s mental recovery ability is very strong… This morning he was taught a lesson by a demigod, forced to apologize, and made to accept a request, but now there’s no shadow of it at all… No wonder he became a Sequence 5 powerhouse. With just this mental quality alone, he isn’t likely to lose control easily… Klein looked at him and nodded lightly in greeting.

“Good afternoon, Gehrman.” Anderson smiled and waved. “The bounty money and characteristic money have arrived. I’ll give you the balance right away.”

As he spoke, he took out stacks of banknotes of varying thickness from different pockets.

“Very smooth,” Klein commented without emotion.

Anderson immediately smiled.

“Yeah, smoother than I expected! Those fellows whose brains should have been packed full of granite were unexpectedly kind, efficient, and polite. I even started wondering whether I’d been favored by the Goddess of Luck!”

“There is no such god,” Klein mercilessly pierced the other man’s fantasy.

“Don’t be so serious. Life, you know, should be a little more relaxed. Relax.” Anderson handed over the remaining 1,200 pounds. “Actually, I know very well what happened. That gentleman definitely didn’t want me wasting time, so he privately ‘reminded’ those people.”

Klein glanced at the notes, squeezed them lightly with his fingers, and casually asked, “Have you confirmed which pirates caused the problem?”

He was asking which of last night’s prey had drawn over that Manipulator.

“No way to confirm.” Anderson smiled bitterly. “You think I didn’t confirm beforehand? Although I acted completely unconcerned in front of you, in truth, I investigated the background and situation of each target ahead of time to avoid provoking people I shouldn’t provoke. Who would have known… Sigh. It can only be blamed on the bad luck clinging to me.”

…This guy is much more cautious than I imagined… Well, yes, his previous Sequence was Conspirer… Klein thought in sudden understanding for two seconds, then asked indifferently, “Who here most deserves to die?”

Anderson first froze. Then he laughed.

“Our craziest adventurer is also planning to start hunting?”

“However, you should think it through. When I’m completing that demigod’s mission, I don’t want to discover that you’re my partner.”

Don’t worry. We’re different. I’m a Seer. I have all kinds of methods to conceal the situation, so no one will come looking for me. Besides, that is a demigod of the Spectator pathway, not one skilled in divination or prophecy… Maintaining Gehrman’s characteristic coldness, Klein said, “That is not your concern.”

Anderson immediately raised a thumb.

“Your madness is admirable!”

He thought for a moment, then added, “The person who most deserves to die is Mosona of the New Loen Party. He’s one of the pirates’ best friends. He controls a highly addictive drug based on cannabis, or some other plant, and that has helped him control many people in Toscarter’s government and police department. He’s the most influential gang leader here…

“He’s committed many cases and killed many people, but basically through pirates. On the surface, there’s no problem with him at all.

“Heh. The guy himself isn’t a Beyonder. The difficulty in killing him lies in trouble. Yes, trouble!

“At any time, he has three to five Beyonders from different pirate crews protecting him. On the roof, outside the room, under the windows—everywhere are his people. If you want to kill him, you can only force your way through and kill most of them.

“I have the ability to do it, but it’s too troublesome and carries a certain degree of danger. Afterward, I’d become a wanted criminal, so I didn’t deal with him. I dealt with his safe instead.”

His safe… You make theft sound so fresh and refined… Mm, I previously heard that Toscarter mainly runs on plantation economy and pirate black-market trade, which in turn flourishes the bar, brothel, and casino industries. I didn’t expect new drugs here too… But Mosona is an ordinary person, not a Beyonder… Perfect. Creeping Hunger is short of food… Klein nodded, signaling for Anderson to give him more details.

…

Toward evening, inside the Oak Bar.

A boxing match was about to begin in the ring, and many drunkards holding cups had gathered around it.

They were like sharks that had smelled blood. While placing bets, they shouted, “Beat him to death!” and “Kill him!” again and again.

This place was a property of New Loen Party boss Mosona. The boxing matches held here had a trait different from other places: deaths were permitted!

Mosona loved these almost ancient gladiatorial matches, and often came to watch a few bouts. Right now, he was seated on the second floor, looking down over the ring.

Scattered around him were many bodyguards, guarding every direction—front, back, left, right, above, and below. Among them were Beyonders sent by his pirate partners, as well as veteran adventurers he had hired at enormous expense.

These people stood sideways or with their backs to Mosona, surrounding him in the middle and preventing anyone from approaching. Revolvers, rifles, shotguns, and other weapons were all openly displayed, intimidating the entire venue.

Having confirmed the situation, Klein pressed down his hat and entered the bar. With one glance, he saw Mosona smoking a cigar.

This gang boss had an extremely distinctive face. Whether his rosacea or his sparse eyebrows, both were very characteristic.

Klein withdrew his gaze, first went to the bar counter and ordered a four-pence local malt beer, then squeezed beneath the railing of the second floor.

Although he was not directly below Mosona—there was tight protection there—he was already not far from him.

“Within five meters…” Klein silently murmured to himself, holding his beer cup while looking toward the boxing ring.