The moment Siles left the History Society, he suddenly remembered that it was the first day of September.
Wednesday. After his morning meeting with Grenfield concluded, Siles had nothing else to do. So, he decided to return to Lamifa University. He ate lunch in the university cafeteria and then went back to his dorm for a nap.
…If I really am going to wake up precisely at 4:00 AM every day from now on, this habit of taking a nap might have to stick around.
Siles was awakened by a knock on the door downstairs. He went down to open it and received a letter from the postman. It was a letter from Alfonso Carte.
Siles temporarily placed the letter on his desk, then took out the box and the potions Grenfield had given him from his bag. He went to the washroom to splash some water on his face, feeling himself wake up properly. Only then did he sit down at his desk and slowly tear open the envelope.
Inside was a stack of papers, not the single sheet of letter paper Siles had imagined.
Slightly surprised, he put on his glasses, found the letter paper among the stack, unfolded it, and began to read.
“…More than half a month ago, you asked me about customs like ‘dying in a foreign land’. Finally, I found a relevant description in a book titled The Stranded Whale of Death.
“This book explains some unique marine life, and among them, it mentions the process of ‘whale fall’. I imagine you’ve heard of it.
“However, the key point is not the whale fall itself, but that the book mentions an ancient tribal group. Early on, they would emulate this practice: the elderly, upon nearing death, would silently leave the tribe to pass away alone in the wilderness, giving themselves back to nature.
“Over the long course of history, this practice gradually evolved into anyone who left the tribe choosing to die in a foreign land. It wasn’t that they wouldn’t come home, but they wouldn’t choose to ‘return to their roots’ when death approached.
“Perhaps this is the custom of ‘being destined to die in a foreign land’ that you wanted to know about.
“The book only mentions the existence of this tribe, without providing further related information. However, this practice of the elderly silently leaving when nearing death was not uncommon among some ancient tribes during the Age of Faith and the Age of Empires.
“Therefore, please forgive my incompetence. I fear this is the only relevant piece of information I could find.
“…
“…Another reason for writing to you is that Emmanuel contacted me a few days ago. He said he has finished translating the first third of that travelogue.
“But he didn’t know your address, so I am forwarding it. Of course, I have also replied to him with your address, so he should write to you personally hereafter and mail the translations directly to you.
“Regarding his mental state, and the matter of Isherwood… I truly want to sigh. It is very difficult for me to stop him. He seems intent on leaving the Duchy of Konst and heading to the Ashless Lands once the translation is complete.
“But… I honestly don’t know what to say. I don’t seem to be in any position to stop him, and I myself feel a deep sense of guilt toward those companions who died. This matter is perhaps an inextricable knot between us.
“…He said he will die in the Ashless Lands; he would rather pay back his life to those companions who died because of him. Such words shook my heart, making me think of my many years in the Duchy of Konst… enjoying fame and wealth.
“While the companions who discovered those tribal ruins with me died in a foreign land unknown to anyone. And I even used that incident to gain fame and profit for myself…
“Siles, I feel a heavy sense of guilt and unease. Yet at the same time, I profoundly feel that Emmanuel should not go to the Ashless Lands; he should not continue searching for his damned brother.
“The Non-existent City. Since it is already non-existent, why can’t it just remain ‘non-existent’ forever…
“…
“…You might think I’m going crazy too. Yes. I’ve corresponded with Emmanuel countless times over the past half month.
“He translates that travelogue obsessively, madly (I do not mean to blame you), while simultaneously obsessing over, madly wanting to go to the Ashless Lands. And I am nearly driven mad by him.
“After the translation is finished, if he and I both disappear, please do not be surprised. We will definitely have gone to the Ashless Lands, and definitely… to search for that damned Isherwood, to… die with our companions.”
Siles’s gaze froze on the final line of Alfonso’s letter.
He closed his eyes, feeling an urge to pick up his pen and write back, to console Alfonso and Emmanuel. But ultimately, he felt utterly powerless.
They seemed to have made up their minds, and for Siles, neither dissuading them nor letting them be seemed like a good choice.
The events had happened in the distant past, and over the long years, they had fermented into new bitterness and pain. Siles was merely a bystander in their lives.
He witnessed this secret, kept this secret, yet had no way to reach out and help his friends.
…No. He felt there had to be some way. It was impossible for him to be truly powerless, to just sit back and do nothing. Siles took a deep breath, thinking this.
“The Non-existent City.”
Isherwood disappeared because he was searching for this place. Emmanuel and Alfonso’s companions had also unfortunately died in a dangerous tribal ruin while searching for this place.
Siles believed there were many more people who had fallen into tragic, hopeless fates because of this location.
If he wanted to untie this dead knot, he had to try finding this place, try discovering the truth about it.
Honestly, he didn’t know if he could do it. He even felt that, like Alfonso in the past, he was foolishly stepping into that delusional fantasy. But at least it was a method, a path.
He wondered, what exactly was the information regarding the Non-existent City in this travelogue?
Siles thought for a moment, then temporarily set Alfonso’s letter aside.
Leaving aside the matter of the Ashless Lands, the book Alfonso mentioned in his letter, The Stranded Whale of Death, also caught Siles’s attention.
An ancient tribe with mysterious customs, he thought. Is this the tribe Ligadia once protected? Is this where those wandering bards of the Age of Silence came from?
He harbored these suspicions, but hadn’t been able to reach a conclusion so far.
…He felt this paper of his had truly veered off course. It wasn’t that his topic or the paper’s content had derailed, but that during the process of gathering material, he had learned too much information that wasn’t heavily connected to the works of the wandering bards.
And it was precisely this information—this information related to Ligadia and the ancient tribe—that he found utterly fascinating.
Siles jotted this down in his notebook, then looked toward the other papers. According to Alfonso, those should be the translation drafts of the first third of the travelogue sent by Emmanuel.
Siles casually pulled out a page and began to read.
“…
“The third year after entering the Ashless Lands. August 17th.
“Met a strange man at the Bevan Relay Station in Glaston. He seemed to have feathers growing on his forehead. People said he was a half-breed bastard, half-human, half-bird. But to me, he just looked polluted.
“Before entering the Ashless Lands, I never would have imagined that this pollution could directly cause a person’s body to mutate.
“Sometimes when I fall asleep in the middle of the night, I feel itchy all over. I know it might just be a bug bite, but hovering between waking and dreaming, I can’t help but wonder: am I going to mutate too?
“…”
Siles had only read a random snippet, yet he couldn’t help but stare at the words on the paper in shock.
Old God pollution could cause mutations in the human body?!
This wasn’t exactly unimaginable, but Siles had never encountered this aspect before, catching him somewhat off guard now.
No wonder everyone says the Ashless Lands is an even crazier place, he thought.
…But why has no one ever mentioned that such mutations exist in the Ashless Lands?
He thought for a moment and slowly realized something.
Even in the Ashless Lands, such mutations must be extremely rare. People might indeed become crazier, but physical mutations weren’t that commonplace.
This brought Siles a slight sigh of relief.
He stared at the stack of translation drafts, hesitating for a moment. He felt these words might completely overturn his impression of the Ashless Lands.
He organized them.
There were ten pages of translation drafts in total, roughly the size of letter paper, folded in half, with writing filling both sides. This was the content of the first third of the entire travelogue; calculating it out, the entire travelogue wasn’t very long.
Emmanuel’s handwriting was a bit messy. Siles wondered if, during the translation process, his memories of exploring and adventuring in the Ashless Lands had been reawakened?
Siles pondered, and with a mix of unease and anticipation, he slowly finished reading the ten pages of translation drafts. By the time he was done, the hazy dusk had begun to show outside his window.
He felt as if he had been holding his breath the entire time; only when he finished reading did he truly exhale.
With an emotion he couldn’t quite identify as regret or relief, Siles realized that his imagination of the Ashless Lands was, at least in some aspects, accurate. Furthermore, the Ashless Lands were not as chaotic and mad as he had pictured.
Overall, the Ashless Lands—or rather, the Withered Wasteland not covered by the mist—was just a massive expanse of empty, flat, barren land.
Some of the land had already been developed and connected by several railways. These were mostly lands close to the surrounding nations. While these nations hadn’t declared territorial rights over these lands, they were indeed quietly claiming and developing them.
In the travelogue, Siles saw many passages detailing the explorer’s experiences taking trains to different areas.
The outer edges of the Withered Wasteland, close to the known nations, were collectively referred to as Galsworthy. For Revelators and even ordinary people, Galsworthy was a relatively safe and prosperous place.
Further inward from Galsworthy, the area was called Glaston.
Glaston was the largest region across the entire Withered Wasteland. This was undeveloped land, and since some time had passed since the mist dissipated there, it was overall relatively safe.
This was a gathering place for explorers, merchants, and tribes, as well as the terminus for all railway lines.
Galsworthy still had some small cities established by the nations. Explorers in Glaston would occasionally return to Galsworthy to relax. But there were no cities in Glaston; there were only relay stations, villages, tribes, and roaming groups of wanderers.
Glaston still contained many unexplored lands, and even ruins. In the travelogue, this explorer had fantasized about how wonderful it would be if he too could discover a tribal ruin.
…Yes. To Siles’s surprise, Alfonso Carte seemed to have quite a reputation among the explorers of the Ashless Lands. The main reason was likely because he had discovered a tribal ruin in Glaston.
Glaston’s area was vast, and it didn’t even have a commonly defined border.
According to the travelogue, the mist sometimes changed; it might expand, or it might contract. Sometimes, “things” would also emerge from the mist, turning that area into a Danger Zone.
Danger Zone—this was the common term people used for the area beyond Glaston, the region closer to the mist. More formally, people would call it Gainsde.
Gainsde was not covered by the mist; this was a very crucial point. Therefore, its danger didn’t actually stem from the mist itself.
Gainsde was land where the mist had just recently dissipated. It might still harbor some highly dangerous mutated creatures, maddened and mutated humans, as well as bizarre, terrifying tribes.
Regardless, the “things” in Gainsde were extremely xenophobic and aggressive.
In the travelogue, the explorer recorded a conversation he had with another explorer who had ventured deep into Gainsde. They met in Glaston, and when he saw the other explorer, the man was blind in one eye and walked with a limp.
The man claimed that when they entered Gainsde, their group consisted of 25 people, but in the end, only three managed to escape successfully. And despite his physical impairments, he still retained his mobility.
His other companion wasn’t so lucky. Although that person was still alive, both of his legs were crippled, rendering him unable to walk normally.
And what about the other one? the explorer pressed.
The man stammered a bit, but finally answered that the last survivor was completely unharmed. It was also thanks to him that the two of them managed to leave Gainsde alive.
So what exactly did you encounter? the explorer pressed again.
The following content was the longest narrative in the ten pages of translation drafts. It was likely the explorer recording it as the other man spoke.
“(The following is a complete record of the description given by the explorer I encountered.)
“…
“When we entered Gainsde, we split into three squads, taking turns to scout ahead. After the first squad reached our target location, they stopped there, waiting for the second squad to catch up.
“Then the second squad continued forward. When the second squad stopped, the third squad caught up and similarly continued forward. When the third squad stopped, the first squad caught up and then moved forward.
“We chose this formation. It was cautious enough, right? But, damn it! With this method, we hadn’t even gone through a few cycles before the squad at the very front vanished inexplicably.
“The three of us who survived were very lucky. But we were… let’s just say the squad that vanished at the front was the first squad; we were the third squad.
“After the first squad vanished, we immediately decided to turn back. Still moving in alternating turns.
“And then… at that time…
“(The explorer swallowed hard.)
“We saw holes appear in the ground.
“(He didn’t want to say more after that. I begged him for a long time before he was willing to continue speaking.)
“Fine… fine… I’m telling you this to advise you: don’t go to that damned Gainsde. That is not a place we should go. Glaston is enough for us to explore. Don’t go provoking those… disgusting, bizarre things.
“I was lucky to meet a powerful explorer, and we escaped, more or less in one piece. But… but… others might not have such good luck.
“…In short, beneath the ground of Gainsde lives a group of… creatures. I don’t want to call them human. But they certainly used to be.
“They… perhaps because the mist was encroaching and they had nowhere to run, eventually chose to go underground. They dug tunnels, using various methods to evade the mist’s invasion.
“…Now, even though the mist has dissipated, they have grown accustomed to living underground. Any creature that intrudes upon their territory… the land above their heads… will be considered an enemy.
“Just like an anthill. Just like… an anthill underground.”
When he read this, Siles felt a slight tremor in his heart. Another metaphor of an “anthill.” He knew this was likely just a coincidence, yet he couldn’t help but feel an indescribable emotion because of it.
Under the mist, humans truly were like ants, utterly defenseless.
Siles remained silent for a long time before reading on. Following this conversation, the author of the travelogue spent a considerable amount of space analyzing the man’s account and the information revealed in his words.
From this analysis, Siles could see that Gainsde’s danger lay not only with those underground creatures. All sorts of bizarre things could appear in Gainsde.
Furthermore, the boundary between Gainsde and Glaston was not very clearly defined; most of the time, it relied on word of mouth.
There were no real-time communication tools in this era. Therefore, every time an explorer arrived at a relay station or village, they had to try to glean information from others, such as whether Gainsde had recently changed or expanded.
An unfortunate explorer who failed to obtain real-time updated information would very likely become lost in Gainsde. This uncertainty greatly increased the risks of exploring the Ashless Lands.
Of course, to some powerful explorers, these things were nothing.
The author of the travelogue mentioned some well-known but unnamed powerful explorers. Some traveled in teams, while others operated solo. But without exception, they all possessed various extraordinary methods.
Siles guessed they must all be Revelators. But he couldn’t rule out the possibility of wealthy individuals dispatching teams equipped with firearms to the Ashless Lands in search of business opportunities.
The travelogue specifically mentioned one explorer whose unmatched strength and arrogant, overbearing style earned him a mixed reputation in the Ashless Lands. But no one could deny his power, nor his unstable, wild personality.
These two traits combined made people both respect and fear this explorer. The vast majority kept a respectful distance from him.
And he was a lone wolf who refused to join any exploration group, operating solo, entering countless dangerous areas, yet always emerging unscathed.
Based on these descriptions, as well as the fear and reverence the travelogue’s author displayed toward this explorer, Siles couldn’t help but feel a touch of curiosity about him.
To be honest, he hadn’t really had the chance to appreciate the demeanor of the strong in this world. It sounded like that was more suited to chaotic places like the Ashless Lands, whereas in Lamifa City, those battles happened in the shadows.
Siles slowly exhaled, then gathered and organized the ten pages of translation drafts.
He planned to find some time to hire a Scribe to completely copy over Emmanuel’s translated text, as well as the first half of his own novel, and then he would mail it to the merchant Lanmere.
He would mention the publication of the travelogue in the letter, as well as the fact that he was writing a novel himself, asking Lanmere to help introduce him to a publisher.
He didn’t hold too much hope for publishing the novel, but there was no harm in trying. If it didn’t work out, he would simply put the matter aside for now, or try to find a publisher through other channels.
He had far too many things going on right now. Besides, he had initially started writing to try developing a side hustle, but he wasn’t short on money now, so the side hustle could wait.
Siles took off his glasses and subconsciously pinched the bridge of his nose.
An afternoon of reading and absorbing new information left his brain somewhat fatigued. He stood up and looked at the slightly dimming sky outside his window. He first tidied up his desk, then went out to the cafeteria for dinner.
On his way back to the dorm, he happened to bump into Lorenzo.
Lorenzo’s mental state looked much improved; he greeted Siles vibrantly: “Good evening, my roommate!”
“Good evening,” Siles said.
Lorenzo asked, “Just got back from the cafeteria? How was the food today?”
“Same as always,” Siles said.
The school cafeteria was always like that: not bad, not great, cheap and affordable, but easy to get tired of.
“Oh, I knew it,” Lorenzo said. “My dear roommate, do you really not want to go out with me to taste some fresh delicacies?”
Siles gave him a skeptical look.
Lorenzo shrugged, then said somewhat awkwardly, “Alright, I’m actually out of money.”
Siles frowned: “I remember we just got paid a few days ago.”
“Yes, but I went and tried some new things,” Lorenzo said. “Did you know a new culinary town was recently developed in the southern suburbs? It’s absolutely fantastic.”
“Culinary town?” Siles was taken aback.
If this were Earth, such a place would be unremarkable; but in the Fisher world, this was the first time he had heard of such a place existing.
“Yes. I spent two days there, and my tongue feels like it can hardly adapt to the bland flavors of the cafeteria anymore.” Lorenzo wore an expression of endless reminiscence. “I’m truly grateful to the Greyson Food Company for proposing this business plan.”
“…Greyson?” Siles asked subconsciously.
“Yeah,” Lorenzo said. “I saw the advertisement in the newspaper. Remember my habit of reading the paper? This wonderful culinary town was initiated by Greyson, and it received the support of many restaurants in the city.
“They completed this project together in the southern suburbs. There are also quite a few foods from the Ashless Lands. If you ask me, I could stay there for the rest of my life. What a pity, the weekend is over, and I have to come back to work.”
Hearing him say this, Siles also felt a twinge of curiosity. Many of the foods in Lamifa City didn’t suit his taste, especially the dry breads and odd, thick soups.
So, if some genuinely fresh delicacies could appear in the southern suburbs, Siles would be happy to try them.
…But only when he had the time. Going from Lamifa University in the northeast corner of Lamifa City all the way to the southern suburbs was a long trip; he would need to set aside at least a whole day.
And Lorenzo’s words finally made Siles understand why the Greyson Food Company’s profits were so good. Relying solely on development in the West City, Siles didn’t believe Greyson could achieve such excellent profits in such a short time.
Siles then said, “If I have the time, I’ll go.”
Lorenzo nodded, about to leave, then suddenly stopped: “Oh right, I remembered something I forgot to tell you.”
“What?”
“That set of dolls in your room, remember? I happened to think of it today and asked Professor Dunlop,” Lorenzo said. “He said it comes from… uh…”
Lorenzo thought carefully before saying, “The culture of a country called Dormaine. It was a nation during the Age of Empires that died out long ago, but this kind of wooden doll survived.
“Anyway, a set of six wooden dolls makes up one play. It’s said that skilled artisans can control all six dolls simultaneously to put on a performance for the audience.
“It seems to be quite popular over in the Ashless Lands nowadays, but it’s rarely seen in the Duchy of Konst. Where did you buy that set of dolls?”
Siles replied, “An underground trade fair. Five Duke Coins.”
“Oh.” Lorenzo cast him a sympathetic look. “You definitely got scammed. How could such wooden dolls cost so much?”
Siles had that premonition as well, but he didn’t really care. The fact that the set of dolls could trigger a die check was enough reason for Siles to buy it.
On the surface, he merely nodded nonchalantly, thinking to himself: Dormaine. I feel like I’ve heard that country’s name somewhere before.
After bidding Lorenzo goodnight and heading upstairs to shower, inspiration suddenly struck him amidst the steam rising from the hot water—Dormaine. That was Akamara’s former kingdom.
On Monday, he had searched for the exact time of Akamara’s fall in the library, and had indeed found it in a historical monograph.
And that historical monograph had also mentioned other things about Akamara, including the kingdom She protected, which loved to study how to dream. It was just that Siles had only skimmed it at the time, so it hadn’t left a deep impression.
The name of that kingdom was Dormaine.
…And the six-part doll play was passed down from Dormaine?
The warm water flowed over Siles’s shoulders, but he felt a chill run down his spine. He thought of the doll standing blankly on the sea in the Deep Sea Dream, and after a long time, he slowly exhaled.
From a certain perspective, his connection to Akamara seemed to be growing imperceptibly deeper. Siles didn’t know if this was a good thing or a bad thing.
However, at least he had never heard of any active followers of Akamara within Lamifa City.
Siles quickly finished his shower, put on his pajamas, and went to his study, looking down at the dolls on the windowsill. The small potted plant sat nearby; Siles had transferred it to the ugly clay pot given to him by Anthony Fenn, and it looked to be growing quite well.
Siles couldn’t spot any problems. Ultimately, he could only shake his head and temporarily leave the thing there, treating it the same way he did the necklace left by Professor Cabel—with cold neglect.
He sat back behind his desk and opened the box Grenfield had given him.
Siles had wondered what would be inside the box.
Grenfield said it was a Time Trace that could protect him, but Siles was very curious about what exactly could fit in a box the length of a hand.
When he actually opened the box, Siles couldn’t help but widen his eyes slightly.
Inside the box was a small black cloth umbrella. Siles took it out and found that this umbrella could actually be opened. But when opened, the canopy was only large enough to cover one of Siles’s hands. It would be perfect if used for those palm-sized dolls.
The entire umbrella felt incredibly sturdy; both the handle and the ribs were made of a light, tough metal that Siles had never seen before. The whole umbrella was exquisite and delicate, like a fine piece of art.
However, its design reminded Siles of a certain god.
He found the instruction manual Grenfield had written out in advance at the bottom of the box.
“This ritual is named [The Warrior’s Black Umbrella].
“Amois, the God of Warriors and Pirates, the Protective Umbrella of War and Conquest. He is the bulwark of all warriors. Many believe Amois symbolizes an indomitable fighting spirit and fearless martial qualities.
“However, His title carries the meaning of ‘protection’. Therefore, a significant portion of His Blessed Ones act as flank guards for vanguard warriors; they are their shields.
“This umbrella was also obtained through Biological Residue technology. During a battle in the rain, a follower of Amois opened his umbrella to shield his companion. His umbrella bought his companion a period of safety.
“Therefore, the method to use this umbrella is to open it to block attacks surrounding your body. If used in the rain or a watery environment, it can provide even stronger defensive capabilities.
“Its weakness is that its physical defense capabilities are relatively poor; when carrying it daily, be careful not to tear the umbrella’s cloth canopy.
“Use potions of 5% and 10% purity as much as possible. This believer’s faith was incredibly devout, so when replicating his power, if the potion’s purity is too high, it is highly likely you will be assimilated by his faith and become a battle-crazed maniac.
“…Of course, Siles, I hope you never have to use this Time Trace.”
Reading the final sentence, Siles paused slightly, feeling a faint sigh escape him.
He took a moment to compose these emotions, then pondered the information Grenfield’s instructions provided.
First, this umbrella’s defensive capabilities were definitely better than Bunyan’s shield fragment, especially in defending against Revelator attacks. After all, Knight Commander Bunyan was not a Revelator.
However, its physical defense was on the weaker side. Just how weak? Was it better or worse than Bunyan’s shield fragment? Siles felt he might need to run an experiment.
If the two each had their strengths, then Siles would likely have to carry both with him.
Second, Grenfield mentioned that using higher purity potions carried a high risk of being assimilated by that believer’s faith.
Siles had never heard of such a thing before.
Replicate, replicate… does it mean that it’s not just replicating the power from past history, but replicating that… person?
This gave Siles a sudden, subtle sense of unease.
He knew where this unease came from. It came from that pervasive Old God pollution, from the endlessly emerging Old God followers and out-of-control Time Traces, from… “containers.”
After Brewer Darrow died, Carol used the ritual [Words of the Dead] to make Brewer reveal the intentions of the masterminds behind the scenes—they were vainly attempting to find a container to revive an Old God.
What was a container? Why could a container revive an Old God?
At the time, neither Siles nor Carol understood this. But now, Siles had accidentally found a sliver of inspiration from a single descriptive sentence of Grenfield’s.
He could perhaps ask Grenfield… but that would have to wait until next Wednesday. His mysterious teacher still hadn’t given him a mailing address. Perhaps he could go to that antique bookstore in the West City to find him…
No, that’s not right. Brewer’s matter has nothing to do with Grenfield; Grenfield doesn’t know the whole story, Siles thought. I should speak directly with Carol about this.
And this Saturday, he might be able to find Carol at the History Society. During the last gathering of the Dawn Revelation Society, the Knight had mentioned that they held a gathering in the Salon every Saturday afternoon.
Then this Saturday, I’ll try dropping a hint about this to Carol.
Having made his decision, Siles turned his attention back to the black umbrella.
He carefully poured out a bit of potion, 5% purity, enough to last about an hour. He then drank it. Thinking for a moment, he took out Knight Commander Bunyan’s shield fragment from his bag. He wanted to test both Time Traces together.
He tested them individually. The blue radiance provided him with more definitive information.
After some time, Siles obtained the answer he sought: these two Time Traces indeed had their own strengths.
Knight Commander Bunyan was likely already one of the strongest among ordinary humans. His shield fragment, powered by a 5% purity potion, provided a defensive capability that pleasantly surprised Siles, especially against physical attacks.
Siles tried tossing a small knife back-handed toward himself. The result was that the knife was directly deflected away, its blade even chipped. Siles hadn’t used much force at all, yet he got this result, which greatly shocked him.
He didn’t know if this was because the material of the ornament itself was extremely unique, or because the 5% purity potion combined with Knight Commander Bunyan’s power caused a qualitative leap in the shield fragment’s defensive strength.
Furthermore, this shield fragment was an eye-patterned ornament originally on the shield. In other words, upon seeing this metal object, an average person wouldn’t immediately realize it was a shield, which greatly increased Siles’s margin for error during combat.
And the black umbrella similarly surprised Siles.
First, its defensive range was larger than the shield. A shield, after all, was rectangular, but the umbrella’s canopy was circular. When the small black umbrella was opened, the blue radiance ultimately formed a hemispherical defensive surface wrapping around Siles’s front.
Second, perhaps due to the cloth material, the black umbrella’s defense was softer. If a weapon or attack came rushing in at high speed from a distance, this umbrella could provide far greater buffering capabilities than the shield, preventing Siles from being directly knocked down.
Finally, Siles also tested Grenfield’s claim that its defensive capabilities were even stronger in watery conditions—and he found that it wasn’t just a little bit stronger.
What was originally just a faint layer of blue radiance suddenly grew intense after Siles sprinkled a little water on the umbrella’s canopy. In the end, it almost formed a substantial blue protective layer, leaving Siles particularly amazed.
Am I going to have to carry a bottle of water with me from now on? he wondered.
He felt he might need to buy a new backpack… a happy problem to have.
The black umbrella’s only weakness was its weaker physical defense. In Siles’s testing, with the same small knife and the same force, the shield fragment could directly deflect the knife, but the black umbrella could only stop the knife’s advance. And the force Siles used wasn’t even that great.
Although it was already strong enough, compared to the shield fragment… Siles chose to trust Knight Commander Bunyan’s power on the physical level. As for the Revelator level, he naturally trusted Teacher Grenfield unconditionally.
After this round of testing, Siles finally felt a bit more at ease.
Of course, he still didn’t have any offensive capabilities. Grenfield never intended to train Siles in the direction of a warrior. Judging by his admiration for Siles’s Three Elements theory, he would love nothing more than for Siles to stay in the Research Department for the rest of his life.
Therefore, he clearly wanted to enhance Siles’s ability to protect himself.
[A Silent Heart] was protection on a mental level, and [The Warrior’s Black Umbrella] was on a physical level. And both of these rituals were incredibly precious.
Siles felt grateful to Grenfield in his heart. Not only because Grenfield had truly guided him onto the path of a Revelator, but also because he spared no effort in nurturing Siles.
On Wednesday night, Siles researched and organized various pieces of information regarding Revelators, as well as some questionable points, planning to ask those in the know when he had the chance.
Afterward, he went to sleep early once again.
When he woke up in the rising autumn sunlight early the next morning, he didn’t know whether to feel joyful or disappointed upon realizing that the Deep Sea Dream hadn’t disturbed his sweet slumber that day.
Do I have to wait another 21 days? he couldn’t help but wonder.
