WCBD CH138

Chapter 138: A Major Success

The ocean of the Fisher World gave off a very subtle feeling.

On one hand, after gradually leaving the port, the impact of human activities on the ocean gradually disappeared; the clear seawater was indeed a pleasant surprise, and the occasional marine life they encountered delighted the passengers even more.

But on the other hand, the greyish-black mist in the distance and the strange carcasses of marine creatures or unidentified floating objects they spotted occasionally cast a shadow over their hearts. Some parts of this world were abnormal, a fact everyone knew well.

Sometimes, the people on the ship gazed at the distant scenery—the land, the glaciers, the sea—with a sense of bewilderment they hadn’t even realized they harbored.

They were currently heading to Bethune in Middleton, but what about the future?

Siles and his group boarded the ship at two o’clock in the afternoon that day. Almost as soon as the afternoon passed, his companions’ novelty regarding the ocean turned into dull boredom toward the vast sea, coupled with the discomfort of seasickness.

Unsurprisingly, almost none of the people from the Duchy of Konst had ever ridden such an ocean-going vessel, and the wind and waves on the ocean were far greater than those on rivers and lakes. They were all pale and dizzy, their pitiful appearances even drawing some non-malicious mockery from the Middleton locals.

Siles, on the contrary, had no reaction. It should be said that his Constitution stat of 75 was actually showing its worth in this moment.

He busied himself alongside Isaac and Johnny, getting everyone settled and telling them to rest well, before finally returning to his own cabin.

The swaying sensation on the ship was far more pronounced than on the train; it felt as if he himself had turned into a small boat cruising on the endless sea. This feeling also made Siles slightly uneasy.

They were not on solid land, but on the swaying surface of the water.

A day of rushing around had also left Siles feeling exhausted. He spaced out for a moment, washed up briefly, and then lay down on his bed. He reminded himself not to overthink; even though they were indeed on the ocean right now, it didn’t mean they were bound to provoke the “shadow.”

Soon, he fell into a deep slumber. In his sleep, he traveled to the deep-sea dreams.

A small ship on the vast ocean, and an isolated island within the vast dream bubbles. This similar situation made him pause slightly, feeling as though the dream and reality had once again aligned and mirrored each other at this moment.

But he wasn’t sure what this similarity would bring, or if it merely offered him a flash of insight.

However, the scene did indeed prompt him to connect some dots.

The deep-sea dream. This was his dream.

This point had been proven by Akamara’s power. When he searched for the dream of “Siles Noel” within the deep-sea dreams, the dream bubble that ultimately appeared was this very deep-sea dream. And Akamara’s dream was that mysterious farm.

He couldn’t help but wonder curiously: if he searched for the dream of “He Jiayin” in the deep-sea dreams, what would the result be?

Would the result be the same as for “Siles Noel,” or would a different dream bubble appear?

He felt a slight hesitation over this thought. Because he felt that if he didn’t think about this question carefully, it was fine, but if he did… the latter possibility would send chills down his spine.

Anyway, the question he actually thought of was, according to what the puppets had said before, to inherit Akamara’s power, one must inevitably pass through the deep-sea dreams.

Could someone else also touch Akamara’s power and enter the deep-sea dreams?

He felt it was necessary to confirm this question with the puppets later.

But for now, the most important thing was…

He cast his gaze onto Chendo’s dream bubble. Chendo was dreaming. Still the same as last time, sitting alone in a corner of a room in the Praia family’s ancient estate.

Without hesitation, he touched Chendo’s dream.

Mr. Ghost appeared before Chendo. Chendo stared at him steadily for a moment, then suddenly pounced forward. He hugged him tightly, and after a moment, he said in a low, hoarse voice, “I was very worried.”

“I know,” Mr. Ghost said. “Some issues did arise.”

Chendo’s body trembled slightly.

Mr. Ghost comfortingly stroked his hair, then recounted to Chendo what had happened in Kingsley over the past two days. He said, “At least we did learn some information about the ‘shadow’.”

Chendo remained silent, finally murmuring, “Yes. That counts as good news.” He slowly exhaled a sigh of relief. “As long as you’re alright. I knew you would probably contact me in a dream after arriving in Kingsley, but you never appeared.

“This made me very anxious. However, I also guessed that something might have happened on your end. I was very scared… I even wanted to go straight to Kingsley to find you. But I knew… I knew I also have things I need to do here in Kansas.”

“Yes, Chendo,” Mr. Ghost said in a soft, low voice. “You’ve already done very well.”

“…Thank you for your praise,” Chendo said gloomily. “Though I wish I wasn’t so obedient, then I could justifiably cling to your side.”

Mr. Ghost: “…”

He remained helplessly silent for a moment, then kissed his childish lover. The depressed Chendo was quickly soothed by the kiss.

Chendo then asked, “Do you think that when you noticed the ‘shadow’, He might have noticed you too?”

Mr. Ghost pondered for a moment, and finally shook his head. He said, “I think He probably didn’t notice me. At least He didn’t show it. Because at the time, I used the consciousness of [Akamara’s Eyeglass Frame] to spy on Him.

“This ritual is directly linked to Akamara’s power; if He noticed me, then He very likely would have come straight over to investigate. Moreover… I’m not entirely sure if this made a difference, but I didn’t turn on the lights at the time.”

Chendo said thoughtfully, “Because, ‘beneath the light, there must be a shadow’?”

“Yes,” Mr. Ghost said. “At least I thought of that phrase at the time and decided to play it safe. The port of Kingsley also has a habit of extinguishing lights after a storm hits, so I think this is very likely effective.”

Chendo nodded, though he also felt puzzled. “But in that case, wouldn’t the ‘shadow’s’ power be extremely limited?”

“There’s probably still some information we don’t know,” Mr. Ghost sighed, saying this. “At least we’ve understood a part of it.”

The shadow of light. This was highly likely to attract the “shadow.”

Additionally, there was the ocean. However, the reason the “shadow” lingered on the ocean was that His believers existed there, and they would sacrifice to Him from time to time. Even though that sacrifice was bloody and primitive, He actually responded to such behavior.

This practice also seemed extremely barbaric and crude, entirely out of place compared to the vast majority of the Old Gods. Therefore, Siles heavily suspected that this “shadow” might also symbolize some sort of… sin? Just like certain concepts associated with Hoodoka.

Of course, this speculation likely couldn’t be verified in the short term.

Chendo suddenly asked with some concern, “So, you are currently in the Fuliou Sea. Entering the deep-sea dreams at this time, won’t it cause any problems?”

“Don’t worry. I think He has already left this area.” This point had been confirmed by the dice, Mr. Ghost thought to himself.

Chendo finally breathed a sigh of relief.

Mr. Ghost added, “Moreover, the blood sacrifice occurring in the depths of the ocean. I think that might be related to Herd Dryson’s family mission. I feel I should go check on this young man’s dream; the sooner the better.”

“Indeed,” Chendo said thoughtfully. “Herd Dryson… I’m afraid he will actually follow the instructions in the letter, head to the seaside, and search for the lighthouse residents. Doesn’t he feel this sort of thing is extremely dangerous?”

Yet, despite the fear, despite the unease, he still embarked on this journey, as if pushed by something invisible.

This behavior appeared quite peculiar. Perhaps it wasn’t surprising in this world, but the events he was involved in were crucial, so they also had to keep an eye on this fledgling young man.

“Maybe he has already realized some issues within his family, but is unwilling to admit it,” Mr. Ghost said. “He thinks that by embarking on the journey and deceiving himself into completing this family mission, he can return everything to how it used to be. But that’s never the case.”

Chendo agreed, “It might even bring about more terrifying consequences.”

Mr. Ghost sighed softly.

They both fell silent for a moment, for the young man’s possible encounters and possible future. And for the Dryson family.

Then, Mr. Ghost asked, “Do you have any progress on your end?”

“I’ve been home for a few days now. I am currently reviewing the family archives, looking for information related to that cemetery.” Saying this, Chendo’s gaze subconsciously drifted out the window.

They walked to the window together, silently gazing at the cemetery outside. In the dream, this cemetery appeared boundless.

After a moment, Chendo said, “I think you are right. This cemetery is highly likely related to the Tauohetia Cemetery. My family originated in the Age of Shadows and had always been wandering all over the world.

“After the Age of Silence began, mist covered many lands, which is why we settled down in Kansas. We didn’t have overly frequent contact with those believers of Ligadia, but we were always doing one thing.

“…Encoffining those who died in foreign lands, with nowhere to be buried. The family’s ancestors would cremate their corpses, then carry their ashes with them at all times.

“Sometimes, if they could reach the hometowns of the deceased, they would lay them to rest. But most of the time, the ashes just piled up, because…

“Even though it’s not recorded in the family archives, something truly terrifying must have happened during the Age of Shadows. Consequently, more and more people died in foreign lands. At its peak, when the family migrated, they had to carry several thousand urns simultaneously; it was a very…”

He paused for a while, seemingly unsure how to describe the scene in the language of Konst. Finally, Chendo could only shake his head, revealing an expression of powerlessness.

So he simply skipped over the topic. Instead, he said, “After coming to settle in Kansas, the family began sorting out the land behind the estate, eventually building this cemetery. This is the origin of the cemetery.

“These past few days, apart from studying these family archives, I’ve been sweeping the tombs. I counted carefully; there are a total of 3,750 tombstones for foreigners here.”

That was a massive number. Mr. Ghost felt surprised. It was hard for him to imagine how, in older eras, the Praia family managed to bring all these ashes to Kansas. It must have been a spectacular sight.

“I think their practice carries some kind of… divine power,” Chendo said deliberately. “You could even say that after Ligadia departed during the Age of Shadows, it was the Praia family that maintained Ligadia’s authority in a certain way.

“Leaving home, journeys, the deaths of foreigners, cemeteries. They executed these concepts. However, as time passed, the descendants of the Praia family seemed to gradually forget the original purpose of these actions, merely treating them as a sort of… family inheritance?

“Moreover, this time I also carefully looked up concepts related to the ‘Old God’s Scion’. I discovered that, including me, the Praia family actually only ever produced four Old God’s Scions.

“The earliest ancestor of the family, the ancestor who decided to settle the family in Kansas, a Scion who appeared alongside Antinam in the early Age of Mist, and then me.”

Mr. Ghost said, “From the Age of Shadows to the Age of Mist, two thousand years passed, yet only four Scions emerged in total. This number is smaller than I imagined.”

Chendo also nodded, adding, “Furthermore, their births all seem to carry some kind of… specific purpose.” He paused. “Do you think my birth might also carry a similar purpose?”

Mr. Ghost pondered in silence for a while.

Finally, he said honestly, “I think it is highly likely.”

Chendo sighed, though he didn’t look very surprised. He said, “I knew it; this world is always like this…” Frustrated, he tilted his head and leaned on Mr. Ghost’s shoulder.

He said, “Do you think my birth was so I could meet you?”

“That’s hard to say,” Mr. Ghost said, but then he felt Chendo shift his head, as if wanting to say something, so he added, “But I hope so.”

Chendo was finally satisfied. He said, “Compared to an inexplicable family mission, I’d rather my birth was to welcome your arrival.”

Mr. Ghost considered this point. He felt it was more likely that this world needed someone to inherit Ligadia’s power, just as it needed someone to inherit Akamara’s power.

Whether anyone was inheriting the powers of other Old Gods was something very difficult to determine.

As for them knowing each other and falling in love, that was probably an entirely separate, unrelated matter. But he was willing to stay silent at this moment, letting Chendo feel a bit happier, lest his mindset be affected by the Praia family’s long history and legacy.

Soon, Chendo spoke again: “I think this cemetery has some connection to the Tauohetia Cemetery, but I’m not sure… how to enter the Tauohetia Cemetery. I mean, just like how you enter the deep-sea dreams.”

“Did the previous Old God’s Scions not leave any hints?”

Chendo shook his head.

Mr. Ghost also sank into thought.

After a moment, he said, “Wait a minute. You said there are 3,750 tombstones in this cemetery in total. Do all these tombstones belong to the foreigners the Praia family encountered before migrating to Kansas?”

Chendo couldn’t help but freeze, asking in surprise, “Yes! Wait, I understand what you mean. You’re saying, go find those who died in foreign lands again, and encoffin them?”

Mr. Ghost nodded.

He elaborated: “It’s an attempt. At least back during the Age of Shadows, the Praia family was always doing this. But after they settled in Kansas, this practice seemed to stall.”

Chendo realized, murmuring, “If that’s truly the case, then that means… the Praia family also experienced some kind of… break in lineage. And this matter wasn’t recorded in the family archives at all.”

The people of the Praia family had invisibly forgotten their duty, their most important duty—encoffining the corpses of those who died in foreign lands.

Thinking of this, Mr. Ghost suddenly froze. He thought, Encoffining corpses? This practice repeated countless times throughout history…

A ritual? A ritual passed down for a very, very long time?

And this also symbolizes a deity…

Chendo seemed to still want to say something, but upon glancing up and seeing Mr. Ghost’s pensive expression, he maintained complete silence, letting Mr. Ghost think properly.

What Mr. Ghost was currently thinking about was, why was the method of maintaining Ligadia’s power encoffining those who died in foreign lands? This practice seemed a bit too human, unbefitting a deity.

However, the manifestation of Akamara’s power was exactly “human dreams.”

…Dreaming. The occurrence of dreams had repeated countless times in the past. This also sounded very much like a ritual, only this ritual was more universal, more… tied to everyone’s concept.

From this perspective, the powers of these Old Gods all seemed like rituals.

Births and deaths repeated countless times, combat and trade, three meals a day and appreciating art, even the movement of the stars and the succession of nature…

The more he thought, the more astonished Mr. Ghost felt.

If the scope of “ritual” was expanded, not just limited to the “rituals” used by Revelators, then in this world, the power of repetition was so vast and profound.

…No, it should be said that precisely after countless repetitions, these matters became a sort of established rule, becoming a “correctness” everyone clearly understood. This was exactly how humanity viewed deities.

Life is so vast, death so cold, combat and trade sustain human life, eating and sleeping are closely tied to physical health, the stars, the oceans, nature, festivals, travel…

Words are defined, concepts are confirmed. The concept of a deity symbolized the correctness in human hearts.

And conversely, precisely because of the establishment of “correctness,” deities thus possessed corresponding formidable power.

Are deities, then, eternally solidified rituals?

This thought startled Mr. Ghost violently. He snapped back to his senses. In Chendo’s dream, the ancient estate of the Praia family still maintained that incredibly silent posture from the years gone by.

He subconsciously reached out to pinch the bridge of his nose, trying to calm himself down.

“What did you think of?” Chendo asked opportunely.

“…Some thoughts that make one feel quite uncomfortable,” Mr. Ghost said.

Deities being some sort of eternally solidified ritual. This concept wasn’t strange. The idea that a deity’s power relied to some extent on humanity wasn’t a terrifying speculation for a novelist from Earth either—though perhaps some humans in this world would be terrified.

The questions that truly surprised and puzzled him were twofold.

The first was the ritual.

When he became a Revelator, he hadn’t felt there was anything wrong with “rituals.” He thought it was a kind of… well, just using this word to refer to the Revelators’ act of replicating the past.

Using a specific word to sound a bit more professional, nothing more. He hadn’t expected this word to bring about a different concept.

But now, when he truly reconsidered this word from the perspective of a deity, he felt a slight anomaly. The word “ritual” itself could refer to the orderly form of a ceremony, in other words, “correctness.”

Such actions are proper, compliant, and conventionally established; therefore, they can be called “rituals.” If this notion is combined with deities, then Revelators themselves are akin to some sort of weak deities.

Because they are exactly replicating a certain “correctness” from history. This is especially true for the more powerful rituals.

This question was directly related to Antinam. And Antinam’s divinity was exactly the past and history. Previously, Siles felt this divinity leaned too heavily in one direction, but now he merely felt this divinity was far too vast, as if enveloping every aspect of this world.

However, in the conversation between the wandering poet Aldous Gershwin and Graves Darrow Klimo, he had once mentioned, “It is impossible for later gods to defeat the earliest gods.”

The implication being, the power of later gods was weaker. It seemed the “shadow” had also used some special method to cause those Old Gods to fall one after another.

Antinam was clearly a later god. He was born in the Age of Mist, much later than any other deity, even much later than the “shadow.” Under these circumstances, why did Antinam’s power seem so immense instead?

The past and history. Everyone has a past, and even the world has a history.

And the second question Mr. Ghost thought of was that Ligadia’s power seemed somewhat strange.

The Praia family took over Ligadia’s corresponding authority, but the practice manifested was “encoffining those who died in foreign lands.” Such a practice had too many prerequisites, and encoffining itself also symbolized a part of death.

In other words, if Ligadia’s power was only limited to this aspect, didn’t His power seem… far too weak?

Yet Ligadia was indeed one of the thirteen Old Gods, and had also realized the existence of the “shadow” during the Age of Shadows, embarking on a journey early on.

Perhaps it was merely because the authority He left behind was related to the act of “encoffining those who died in foreign lands”?

However, judging by Chendo’s previous manifestation of power, namely “providing help to those embarking on journeys,” the power Ligadia left behind was clearly more than just that.

When it comes down to it, why is Ligadia’s paradise for sheltering souls who died in foreign lands?

Dead foreigners…

Mr. Ghost couldn’t help but wonder if this concept had shifted and changed over its long development.

Ligadia had already vanished without a trace during the Age of Shadows, and His believers were never the highly cohesive type. From this perspective, the concepts He corresponded to very likely didn’t hold their earliest meanings anymore.

Mr. Ghost thought for a moment, then conveyed this doubt regarding Ligadia to Chendo. Chendo also came to a sudden realization and immediately said, “Then maybe these concepts are recorded in the Praia family archives. I’ll go look for them later.”

Mr. Ghost nodded as well. He kept those questions regarding deities in mind.

Chendo then brought up two other matters that needed follow-up: Alfonso Carte’s whereabouts, and the letter from the astrologer, Madame Heidi.

He said he had already tasked people from the Praia family to investigate Alfonso Carte’s movements and Emmanuel’s hometown. But it might take some time to yield results.

As for Madame Heidi’s star map handkerchief and the request for her to investigate news regarding the Dryson family at the House of Hales, there had been no news yet, and it would probably take some time as well.

“I hope that by the time you return from Middleton, these matters will have seen some good progress,” Chendo said.

“I hope so too,” Mr. Ghost said.

Afterward, Chendo hesitated and said, “Do you have to go now?”

“Yes.”

Chendo sighed, saying, “It’s hard for me to strike the right balance… I mean, showing how reluctant I am to part with you, without actually delaying your important business. I don’t want to make you annoyed with me.”

“You won’t, Chendo,” Mr. Ghost said gently. “I know how you feel. I won’t get annoyed.”

Chendo then pushed his luck and got a little reward. They kissed for a while before finally parting ways reluctantly. Soon, Mr. Ghost left Chendo’s dream.

He stepped back onto the land of the isolated island and once again searched for the dreams of Herman Grove and Bernie Dunlop—he had learned Professor Dunlop’s full name from Lorenzo—but still found nothing.

He planned to try again in a couple of days. However, there was a problem: he didn’t know how to distinguish whether a person was truly dead or simply not dreaming.

He had also considered the possibility that the archaeological team had been completely wiped out. He tried searching for Professor Denton Calverley, the deceased book collector, but the results simply yielded no response.

This gave him a subtle feeling. It was as if, within the scope of Akamara’s power, anyone not dreaming was considered dead.

…That sounded a bit inappropriate, he thought.

He set these thoughts aside for the moment and searched for Herd Dryson’s dream. To his surprise, his search yielded an immediate response this time. A dream bubble surfaced before him.

He pondered for a moment and didn’t directly enter Herd’s dream, but first observed it.

On the dream bubble, everything inside the dream appeared slightly distorted. Inside the bubble, Herd was eating a meal with his family. However, Herd’s expression seemed extremely tense. Soon, his family members suddenly started arguing, while Herd just buried his head and ate, seemingly accustomed to the sight.

After a while, the argument intensified, and Herd’s family began beating each other. They cut off each other’s hands, feet, noses, ears, and so on, fighting to gnaw on them. In an instant, the entire dining room was flowing with rivers of blood.

Yet Herd was still silently eating his own food. He tasted nothing, merely eating mechanically.

Suddenly, the entire dream scene flickered. Herd seemed to recall being beaten as a child. But just as he habitually covered his head, in a place he didn’t notice, a shadow appeared within the shadow of the adult whose face was contorted with ferocity.

The next second, the adult who was about to strike suddenly revealed an extremely subtle smile. He gently stroked Herd’s head, then lightly hugged him.

The scene flickered again, returning to the dining table. Everything reverted back to a picture-perfect appearance, with them talking and laughing. But in this moment, Herd widened his eyes in horror.

…The dream bubble abruptly shattered.

He froze for a moment, then thoughtfully lowered his eyes.

Clearly, just as he had guessed, Herd was actually quite aware subconsciously that there was a problem with the Dryson family. But overtly, he was unwilling to admit this, preferring to deceive himself and follow the letter’s instructions.

Furthermore, Herd himself might have suffered some abuse within the family. His parents and elders might have beaten him, while simultaneously arguing loudly on any given occasion.

This situation evidently wasn’t just a day or two, but had started when Herd was very young. After Herd grew into an adult, these signs likely became rarer, but not non-existent.

Judging from this sign, when Herd said his parents and grandparents fell into an argument after he received that letter, was it because they were discussing the necessity of Herd’s departure? Or was it for some other reason?

Perhaps they had tacitly agreed from the very beginning that Herd must embark on the journey.

Moreover, in Herd’s dream, that “shadow” also appeared highly bizarre. Why would Herd dream of this shadow?

Clearly, he shouldn’t have been aware of the “shadow’s” existence; at least, his family elders hadn’t bluntly told him about it, instead wanting him to walk ignorantly to his death—yes, to his death.

This dream could confirm that the Dryson family were likely unknown followers of the “shadow.” It’s unknown when this belief began—perhaps when the family’s ancestors arrived at that isolated island in the sea.

Even though they later left the isolated island, it probably didn’t mean they had completely severed ties with the beliefs held there. On the contrary, they most likely left the isolated island and headed to the Duchy of Konst with other motives in mind.

…The Dryson family appeared to be respectable figures within Lamifa City; then, were there also other followers of the “shadow” in Lamifa City, secretly conspiring to do something?

This didn’t seem impossible either. Especially under the premise that the massacre of the Darrow family was highly likely related to the “shadow.”

In any case, Herd heading out to the ocean was highly likely for a brand new sacrificial ritual. As for why it was Herd, and why now, the answers to those questions remained unknown for the time being.

He thought for a moment and felt this conclusion was reasonably sound. Of course, results deduced from a dream ultimately required real-world verification; he couldn’t jump to conclusions so easily.

Subsequently, he observed several other dream bubbles on the isolated island. None of them were dreaming. Jonathan Bryant’s vines were growing even older and more withered; he highly doubted whether this man could survive through February.

Having confirmed all this, he headed to the mysterious farm.

The overall atmosphere of the farm was warmer and brighter than the deep-sea dreams. But, just thinking about how Akamara had ultimately fallen made this atmosphere feel less joyful.

He met the puppets.

Several puppets were sound asleep; they lived exactly like real people, except their living space was strictly limited to this small cabin, or even just the miniature stage model.

Only one puppet welcomed his arrival. He noticed it was exactly the puppet he could currently control.

He also greeted it, and then mentioned Garland realizing she wasn’t a character in a novel. The puppet regretfully shook its head and said, “That doesn’t count as your progress.”

He also felt some regret, though it was not unexpected. He then asked if anyone else would enter the deep-sea dreams.

“Of course not!” The puppet’s little bead-eyes seemed to widen a bit. “You are the successor now!”

This statement made him sigh in relief.

He patiently chatted with the puppet for a while. These puppets had always lived in the cabin, and he noticed they actually enjoyed talking to people—though certainly not as chatty as the dice—so, if he had free time whenever he came here, he would keep them company for a bit.

What the puppets brought up most often naturally were the stories of Akamara.

They mentioned that most of the time, Akamara fixed Her image as a little girl doll.

Sometimes, She would even personally participate in the six puppet shows of Dormein, and back then, the residents of Dormein took pride in this, because Akamara would only participate in those exceptionally brilliant puppet shows.

However, Akamara would occasionally change Her image, such as an adult woman or an old lady. Only very rarely would She turn into a man or a boy.

She seemed to be a deity who greatly enjoyed contact with humans, while also enjoying hiding Her identity. Perhaps it was because She was incredibly close to human dreams that She naturally became incredibly close to humans themselves.

This account made him thoughtful, because it made him think of Cynthia. That mysterious Cynthia.

…Could Cynthia be one of Akamara’s incarnations?

This was a possibility he had never considered before, but judging purely from this puppet’s description, Akamara’s behavior truly fit Cynthia’s image perfectly.

If that was truly the case, then Cynthia’s story highly likely carried far more meaningful elements.

He wondered if Hal Goss had obtained any new stories. Unfortunately, the young boy wasn’t dreaming today. Otherwise, Mr. Ghost would have been very happy to offer him some remuneration.

At four in the morning, Siles woke up from the dream. Aboard the ship “Distant Sea”, the tranquil silence of the deep night remained undisturbed.

This dream sequence provided him with some unexpected information, such as the concept of deities, the Dryson family’s stance, and Cynthia’s possible true identity. Overall, this trip into the dreams was highly necessary.

However, regarding some of the matters he was currently investigating—like Doctor Chester’s mother, the mystery of the missing archaeological team, and so on—this information provided no help.

…Of course, he couldn’t expect everything to go smoothly.

Siles thought for a moment, and didn’t dwell on it further. He got up, took out a notebook from his luggage, and recorded some thoughts. The roar of the ship’s engine and the swaying sensation on the water made it difficult for him to fall back asleep anyway, so he simply decided to get up and wash.

Breakfast on the ship was served starting at half past five. He could go grab breakfast early. Furthermore, their journey was already halfway over; after one more day, they would arrive in Bethune, the capital of this distant nation.

While he was washing up, the ship was still dead silent, as if the rushing water from the tap in front of him was the only sound on board.

Siles’s mind wandered as he thought about other things, but suddenly he heard a sound. He snapped back, but the sound seemed to have vanished, causing him to frown for a moment.

Ultimately, he decided to trust his instincts. He rolled a Constitution check for himself. Abilities related to bodily senses, including hearing, all fell under the scope of Constitution.

[Keeper of Secrets, Siles Noel (University Professor) is performing a Constitution check.]
[Constitution: 75/…]

There were only two possible numbers before him, which surprised him a bit—they were 1 and 99. In other words, if he were an ordinary RPG player, facing this check, he could only resign himself to fate, hoping for a Critical Success rather than a Fumble.

But Siles was cheating for himself.

[Constitution: 75/1, Critical Success.]
[Aboard the pitch-black ship in the early hours of the morning, you hear a sound drifting over from the open ocean. You suspect you misheard, but in truth, you must trust your powerful Constitution stat, even though you constantly overlook it. Anyway, congratulations, you successfully heard someone screaming for ‘Help’ out at sea.]

Siles narrowed his eyes. By the time he finished listening to the dice’s explanation, he had also finished washing up. He quickly left the washroom, threw on a coat, and stepped out of his cabin.

Fortunately, while handling his companions’ seasickness yesterday afternoon, he had learned where the captain’s cabin was. Therefore, he first went to find the translator, Johnny. Half-asleep, Johnny was immediately startled awake upon hearing that Siles had heard someone screaming for help out at sea in the middle of the night.

They then went together, knocked on the door, woke up the captain, and told him the situation.

The captain looked even more bewildered than Johnny. He stared wide-eyed at Siles and Johnny, and finally, probably feeling that the matter needed to be addressed, called over a few sailors, turned on the ship’s spotlights, and began to search.

Siles and Johnny waited anxiously on the deck.

In the early morning hours of February, the temperature was still quite low, but Siles had no intention of leaving. He realized that this check was extremely important.

He only had two possibilities: either a Critical Success or a Fumble.

A Critical Success meant he would realize someone was calling for help, then inform the captain, leading the captain to rescue the person; whereas a Fumble most likely meant he would simply ignore the event, dismissing it as a hallucination from being half-asleep.

And that would inevitably mean missing a clue.

If Siles hadn’t cautiously decided to perform this check, then it would have been the equivalent of receiving a Fumble.

This made Siles feel a bit weird. It was perhaps his first time experiencing the power of fate in a certain sense so directly. He had used this power to alter the course of fate.

In the dead silence, sailors were swimming in the freezing seawater. It was obvious they were somewhat annoyed. They didn’t think anyone could possibly be calling for help at this hour, but since Siles and his group had purchased luxury cabins, they couldn’t afford to offend such guests.

However, they soon made a discovery.

“There’s someone here!” a sailor shouted loudly in the language of Middleton from the distant ocean. “Send more men over! He’s about to drift into the mist!”

Johnny, the captain, and the others instantly became excited. Siles didn’t understand the Middleton words the sailor had yelled, but seeing the reactions of those around him, he understood as well.

Almost everyone on deck stood up, leaning over the railing to observe the situation. Some passengers who had just woken up ran out to watch the commotion upon hearing what was happening. Several sailors leaped off the ship, swimming swiftly toward that direction.

After some time, working together, they brought the man up. Several sailors were freezing to death and headed straight to the cabins to take hot baths. Someone brought heavy blankets, wrapping up the rescued man.

Someone performed artificial respiration on him, and in a short while, he coughed up a mouthful of seawater and regained consciousness.

He grabbed his own hair, revealing his face, and mumbled something indistinctly. Right at that moment, someone recognized him and loudly exclaimed in surprise. Upon hearing this, the others also broke into a cacophony of chatter.

And once the man was fully awake, he quickly began conversing with them… or rather, arguing with them.

The scene descended into utter chaos for a moment.

Johnny softly explained their conversation to Siles: “That man they rescued… is Garrett. The infamous Garrett Gielgud. The one who set out to sea the evening before last.

“…He says, the others on the ship, the crew, the sailors, the oarsmen, are all dead. And a merchant who set out with him is also dead… Everyone else is dead.

“He’s the only one who survived.”

Support me on Ko-fi