Chapter 73: Behind the Door

Chapter 73: Behind the Door

Although the voice from inside the telegraph office had nothing especially unusual about it—it was only slightly intermittent and lacked any obvious rise or fall in tone, which normally should not have made anyone feel afraid—a surging, overwhelming fear erupted inside Verdu’s heart.

It was like a bullet trailing flame firing into an arsenal and striking a barrel of easily ignited gunpowder with absolute precision, instantly detonating all the fear Verdu had accumulated earlier and forcibly suppressed.

The terror sweeping through every corner of his body was like a hand clutching his heart and wiping his mind blank. He abruptly turned and madly fled toward the ruined pier where the pirate ship was docked.

During that process, Verdu completely forgot how to think. He no longer remembered that he was wearing a classical robe capable of “Teleportation.” He only relied on his two feet, stumbling and staggering through the ruins. At times, he tripped over debris and fell heavily. At times, the robe strangled him until his face turned purplish, forcing him to stop and gasp for breath.

Yet every time he recovered slightly, Verdu would climb back to his feet and continue sprinting. He looked as though he had lost all reason and had only pure instinct remaining.

Without the power he supplied, the wooden door could no longer maintain its balance. After sliding a little along the collapsed, broken wall, it dropped to the brick-and-stone-covered ground with a slap.

The grayish-white fog and the indistinct houses within it disappeared along with it.

Five or six minutes later, Verdu ran back to the pier beneath storm clouds and pouring rain.

His eyes stared blankly, filled with panic and helplessness. He completely failed to notice that a figure stood on the pirate ship’s deck, quietly looking down at him.

It was the cold-faced young man in the half-height silk top hat and long black trench coat.

Without even thinking, Verdu used the gangway to return to the pirate ship, rushing all the way into the cabin, up to the second level, and into his room.

Bang!

He slammed the door shut, shrank onto the narrow bed, tightly wrapped himself in the blanket, and trembled.

Only after another rib snapped and intense pain assaulted his mind did Verdu recover slightly. He discovered that his limbs were sore and weak, his body feverish, and every breath he took thundered in his ears.

He struggled and worked hard before finally removing the classical robe and collapsing back onto the bed. He felt dizzy, nauseated, and short of air no matter how he breathed.

Outside the cabin, the cold-faced man suddenly raised his hand and took a human-skin glove out of thin air, putting it onto his left palm.

In the next instant, the man vanished from where he stood and appeared in a corner of the ruins, beside that ordinary wooden door.

He then bent down, pulled the wooden door upright, and made it stand once more before a wall that had mostly collapsed.

Immediately afterward, the man in the black trench coat simulated Verdu’s actions. He extended his palm, grasped the handle, and twisted it downward.

Then he pushed the wooden door forward, causing it to swing back and lean against the wall.

Almost at the same time, he saw a grayish-white fog. Within the faint fog, he saw a street and houses, blurry and indistinct.

Among those houses, the most prominent and clearest was Bansy Harbor Telegraph Office. The others all seemed more or less indistinct.

At that moment, from inside the telegraph office, the calm voice spoke through the open door:

“Who… are… you?”

“I… am… Gehrman… Sparrow.” The young man in the half-height silk top hat replied in the same intermittent voice.

Inside Bansy Harbor Telegraph Office, silence suddenly descended, as if someone were soundlessly walking toward the doorway.

Just then, Gehrman Sparrow turned and looked to the other side.

From the depths of that indistinct street, a figure walked over…