“Good afternoon, Professor Noel.” Dr. Chester looked to be in high spirits, perhaps because, after so many years, he had finally made up his mind to face his long-standing nightmare.
Beside him, the young man gazed curiously at Siles and Quinton.
Chester then introduced them to each other. The man was named Alva Gillini, a traveling companion Chester had met on the train. They had chatted for nearly the entire journey and had come to know a bit about each other.
Furthermore, Chester added, “Alva doesn’t know much about the Ashless Lands and plans to travel with us to the House of Hales.”
Siles was surprised to learn this. He nodded politely to Alva and introduced Quinton to him and Chester. Alva seemed completely unaware of Quinton’s reputation, whereas Chester cast a slightly doubtful glance at Quinton, as if remembering something.
Turning back to the conversation, Siles said, “Quinton also intends to go to the House of Hales, so the four of us can travel together. Right, we need to buy one more ticket. If we’re lucky, the four of us can share the same compartment.”
Ten minutes later, they were indeed lucky enough to purchase the very last ticket for Compartment 901 on the “First Snow Light” train.
Alva Gillini looked to be in his early twenties and was still a student, very young, possessing that unique vitality and restlessness characteristic of youth.
According to his self-introduction, he was currently studying at an academy within Lamifa City. However, he did not explicitly state his major, which was not particularly important at the moment anyway.
Alva tinkered with the ticket in his hand with some curiosity, then said, “How interesting. I never thought there would come a day when I would actually go to the Ashless Lands.”
Siles looked at him with some curiosity but did not intend to press for details right now.
Quinton chimed in at the right moment—or perhaps with a hint of impatience—saying, “We can go have dinner now.”
They then returned to the Levi Hotel. The establishment provided meals, though the prices were rather exorbitant. However, none of them minded much.
Having eaten and drunk their fill, they sat around the dining table chatting. Both Chester and Alva were conversationalists.
Consequently, even though Siles and Quinton mostly maintained their silence—Quinton was entirely mute, too lazy to speak, while Siles would occasionally chip in a word or two—the atmosphere of their conversation remained very lively.
From their dialogue, Siles learned that Alva’s family owned a printing factory, making them quite a wealthy household. He wondered if this was the reason his family had always been rather reluctant to let him go to the Ashless Lands.
Alva was somewhat evasive on this point. However, Siles could understand; after all, the vast majority of Lamifa City residents considered the Ashless Lands to be a dangerous and chaotic place.
Nevertheless, Alva himself seemed to be a young man filled with an absolute spirit of adventure. Therefore, upon reaching adulthood, he had worked hard to persuade his parents to allow him to venture into the Ashless Lands.
Not long ago, Alva’s parents had finally relented.
After the incident with the Greyson Food Company broke out, his parents had initially intended to back out. But Alva had preemptively bought his train ticket, and when the time came, he bid them farewell right on schedule, giving them no opportunity to dissuade him.
This was also the reason they were able to meet Alva here.
Alva knew next to nothing about the Ashless Lands. Rather, it was as if during the past twenty years of his life, he hadn’t known a single shred of information regarding the Ashless Lands. All his understanding was based on a few details he had hastily looked up after deciding on this journey.
He didn’t even know much about Galsworthy, Glaston, and Gainsde, only knowing that one could take a train from the border cities of the Duchy of Konst to reach the Withered Moor.
Dr. Chester had already heard Alva mention this on the train, but hearing it spoken of again now, Dr. Chester still found it somewhat unbelievable.
Alva looked a bit dejected. “Because my parents and other elders were unwilling to let me come into contact with any information regarding the Ashless Lands. They said…” He paused slightly here, then continued, “They felt that place was too dangerous.”
Siles raised his eyes to glance at him. He felt a slight sense of incongruity.
Judging by Alva’s lively and extroverted personality, his family shouldn’t have restricted and limited him so tightly; otherwise, Alva wouldn’t have grown into the person he was today.
Yet, they had blocked Alva from learning about the Ashless Lands precisely under the pretext of “danger”… This was a bit strange. After all, the people of the world of Fisher all knew of the existence of the Ashless Lands and could frequently read some news about it from the newspapers.
Why were they so reluctant to let the younger generation encounter the Ashless Lands? Even if Glaston and Gainsde were indeed extremely dangerous, Galsworthy was a perfectly normal and safe trading city.
The doubt flashed through Siles’s mind, but there was no need for him to pry so deeply into a stranger he was meeting for the first time. Perhaps Alva harbored some unspeakable secret.
Chester Fitzroy seemed to think along the same lines. He comforted Alva and said, “Now, you can follow us to explore the secrets of the Ashless Lands.”
Alva became excited almost instantly. He said enthusiastically, “I am incredibly grateful! I have yearned for the Ashless Lands for a very long time. Perhaps I, too, can become a powerful and mysterious explorer!”
They chatted in the dining room until seven or eight o’clock, then went upstairs intending to return to their rooms. At this moment, a problem arose: originally, Siles had planned to room with Chester while Quinton stayed in a single room by himself.
But now Alva had appeared. They couldn’t possibly have Alva and Quinton room together, could they? They were complete strangers.
Thus, Chester kindly offered a compromise from the side: “Why don’t Alva and I stay in one room, and you and Mr. Praia stay in the other, Professor?”
Siles turned his head to look at Quinton.
Quinton nodded indifferently, seemingly not caring either way.
Siles agreed to this arrangement as well. He bid farewell to Chester, and they returned to their respective rooms.
It was only when he stepped into the room on the left that a question vaguely crossed Siles’s mind: Didn’t Quinton seem to have already brought his luggage into this room during the afternoon?
He had no time to overthink it, for Quinton had already looked over and said, “You forgot, there’s a trade fair tonight. Do we need to call them along?”
Siles was startled, and only then did he remember the matter. He said, “I’ll go ask.”
So he knocked on the opposite door once more. Upon hearing about the matter from Siles, Dr. Chester pondered for a moment, and finally let out a tired yawn. “Forget it, Professor. I didn’t sleep well on the train last night and plan to turn in early.
“You two go ahead. Perhaps tomorrow you can share what you saw at the trade fair with me.”
He turned back to ask Alva, who gave the same reply—perhaps because, if Dr. Chester wasn’t going, Alva didn’t quite dare to act alone with Siles and Quinton?
Siles nodded, told them to get a good rest, and then turned around to head back downstairs with Quinton.
Quinton said, “That trade fair is located in the basement. We have to enter through the small side door.”
Siles said in a low voice, “I once attended a subterranean trade fair back in Lamifa City as well, which was also located underground.”
Quinton let out a laugh and said, “These people always feel that being underground gives them a greater sense of security. However, if someone actually came to conduct a search, being blocked underground means they wouldn’t even be able to run. Like catching a turtle in a jar.”
Siles couldn’t help but smile faintly as well.
He felt that although Quinton was habituated to sarcasm, as long as the target of the sarcasm wasn’t himself, Siles could maintain a relaxed state of mind and share a laugh.
The young lady behind the first-floor counter was still watching them with a sweet smile.
Siles followed Quinton, stepping through a wooden door on the side of the hotel, and then walked down the steps. In the slightly dim underground, Siles could smell the scent of soil and dust, and heard the increasingly loud sound of clamor.
After a few seconds, his vision suddenly brightened. This was a very spacious, high-ceilinged underground space. Various people were setting up stalls somewhat casually and calling out their wares.
Siles spotted some ancient objects of unknown origin. Most of the stall owners looked highly mysterious, wearing hoods and silently awaiting the arrival of customers.
Quinton said, “You can wander around here at your leisure. There is a stable order here, so you don’t have to worry about anyone stealing your belongings.”
Siles paused, then said softly, “Thank you.”
Quinton seemed to have something he wanted to look for as well, so he went off on his own to browse and purchase. Siles then walked along the aisles with great interest, admiring the items on the stalls.
Quite a few things opened Siles’s eyes; even feathers could become items for sale… and they were even quite popular.
The stall owner noticed Siles’s gaze and said, “Are you interested, sir? This is a time-anchor that can be used for the ritual [Body Lightness]. It’s a genuine feather from that group of bird-men!”
Bird-men? Siles was surprised to hear this term.
He shook his head cautiously and said nothing.
The stall owner let out a disappointed sigh and muttered plaintively to himself, “These days, even bird-men’s feathers are hard to sell! That damned Withered Moor development plan…”
Siles listened silently and walked away quietly before drawing the stall owner’s attention further.
He thought to himself that, as expected, after the Grand Duke of Konst announced the Withered Moor development plan, these small-time peddlers and vendors were severely affected.
Items that could previously be resold had now become items on the principality’s official merchandise list, and might even become time-anchors used in the introductory rituals for new Revelators of the Historical Society in the future.
However, this wasn’t what Siles truly cared about either. He had long since surmised the impact the Withered Moor development plan would have on the market, merchants, explorers, and so forth after its announcement.
What truly caught him slightly by surprise was the term “bird-men.”
Clearly, this wasn’t an official designation, but rather a common parlance carrying a hint of contempt.
Bird-men… people with feathers? And the feathers indeed came from them…
Thinking up to this point, Siles suddenly recalled that in Friedman’s travelogue, he mentioned encountering people with feathers on their bodies at a certain relay station. And that was a physical mutation produced after suffering from contamination.
Mutation, Siles thought. He had already encountered such matters and had personally witnessed someone’s mutation.
At the Austin Marquis Manor, he had watched Marquis Austin, under extreme madness, swell into a mass of flesh before ultimately being devoured by a strange painting. That was an unredeemable, mad, and twisted ending.
Yet in the Ashless Lands, such mutations seemed to be far more commonplace, and far more… minor and harmless?
It was as if it had become a hereditary trait, confined within certain people, certain families, or certain ethnicities.
But it did indeed possess a strange power, just like… a fixed time-anchor? As the stall owner had said, the feathers of “bird-men” could become the time-anchor for the ritual [Body Lightness].
As Siles pondered, he continued to stroll past the various stalls. Some stall owners would enthusiastically solicit business, while others merely watched Siles with silent, icy gazes.
Amidst such gazes, Siles felt a sensation akin to being pried into, as if these people were scrutinizing Siles’s strength and identity, waiting for an opportunity to strike.
Siles maintained a cold expression. Although he felt a slight sense of wonder at the atmosphere of Maltz, he had no intention of displaying this emotion.
Under his icy, deep gaze, many people also slowly pulled back their prying eyes.
Siles eventually came to a stop before a stall. What caught his eye was an old pocket watch.
Old items such as this pocket watch were a common sight at this subterranean trade fair. Siles spotted some vintage dip pens, oil paintings, ancient coins, teacups, toys, and the like, but that pocket watch still drew Siles’s gaze at first sight.
Because on the lid of that pocket watch, an exquisite eight-petaled rose pattern was engraved.
Siles’s heart stirred, recalling the eight-petaled rose paper that Benton had once gifted him, and he couldn’t help but stop his steps, feeling a slight sense of coincidence.
In the field of mysticism, the eight-petaled rose carried symbolic information of rebirth and renewal. That happened to align perfectly with certain omens of Siles’s. This conceptual fit in the dark made Siles unable to resist asking for the price of this pocket watch.
A minute later, Siles spent 10 Duke coins and successfully purchased the pocket watch.
According to the stall owner, this pocket watch also came with a very rare ritual called [Time Correction].
When he first heard the name of this ritual, Siles had thought it was some powerful ritual capable of reversing time. However, following the stall owner’s explanation, he immediately realized he had overthought it.
In truth, the occasions where this ritual was applicable were very rare.
When a person was in a dark environment or another enclosed space without knowing the specific time, they would be unable to accurately perceive the passage of time, thereby making them unable to measure exactly how much time had elapsed.
For instance, it was very difficult for people to count seconds precisely; there would always be various errors.
However, under the effect of the constant ritual [Time Correction] carried by this antique pocket watch, one only needed to lightly tap the pocket watch, and upon the next tap, they would be able to perceive exactly how long it had been since the last time they tapped the pocket watch.
…This was a ritual that couldn’t exactly be called useless, but if one had to be strict, it was also hard to think of any application scenarios for it.
As a novelist, Siles could think of a few interesting ways to use it, such as a person hiding inside a grave… but at the end of the day, reality was not a novel.
Nonetheless, for the sake of his own interests and preferences, Siles happily paid the money.
He held the pocket watch in his hand. The slightly cold, hard metal surface stirred a wave of chill in Siles’s palm. He used his fingertip to flip open the lid, watching the movement of the hands beneath the yellowed glass.
There was a crack on the glass, as if proclaiming the thrilling experiences of the pocket watch following its former master through adventures and explorations.
Siles rubbed the crack with the pad of his finger, confirming that it wouldn’t affect daily use, and then closed the lid, placing it into his pocket. He was not currently within the ritual time, so he could not experience the magical function of [Time Correction].
He continued to wander through the trade fair and ran into Quinton.
Quinton stood before a certain stall, frowning in contemplation. The stall owner was watching him tremblingly, seemingly aware of Quinton’s reputation, thus behaving at this moment as if he were being robbed.
Siles walked over and asked, “What’s wrong?”
Quinton snapped out of it and said casually, “I’m thinking about whether to buy this thing.” He pointed randomly to an item on the stall. Siles looked over.
Neither of them noticed that the stall owner let out a sigh of relief imperceptibly.
What Quinton was referring to was a fragment of what looked like a ceramic item, still caked with dirt, its overall shape resembling a cylinder. Because it was merely a fragment, it was placed at a very peripheral position, making it rather inconspicuous.
Siles thought with some confusion why Quinton would want to buy this item.
Then he suddenly froze, subconsciously saying, “Statue…”
“Yes. I suspect so,” Quinton said simply. He turned to ask the stall owner, “Where did you get this?”
The stall owner was a man dressed as an explorer. He took a deep breath, seeming to want to say something, but in the end, he looked at Siles, then at Quinton, and finally said dejectedly, “The archaeological site to the northeast, do you know of it?”
“The one near Kansas City?”
“Yes.” The stall owner nodded. “I got this thing from a certain explorer, but it didn’t seem to be of any use, so I put it here to try and sell it off.”
Thus, Quinton and Siles exchanged a look, and ultimately bought it decisively. It wasn’t expensive; he only spent 5 Marquis coins.
Quinton seemed somewhat repulsed by the item, so he pulled a pair of black leather gloves from his pocket, and only picked up the object that looked like a ceramic item after putting them on.
They walked to a certain corner of the trade fair. The voices of the crowd gradually grew quiet.
Quinton tinkered with the object, and after a moment, said, “This looks like a knuckle.”
Siles couldn’t help but frown, staring at the small, gray object. After a moment, he nodded in agreement.
“In Duva’s diary, he did indeed mention many statues,” Quinton said thoughtfully. “However, those statues…”
“Are they made of people?” Siles finished his sentence. “But is there anything that can confirm this?”
Quinton thought for a moment and said, “Something that sees through illusion to reality? If the statue is merely the appearance rather than the essence…”
Siles froze slightly, then said, “I possess a ritual here.” He paused. “I cannot guarantee its effect, but at least we can give it a try.”
Quinton cast him an unexpected glance, as if he hadn’t expected him to be able to provide a possible answer. So he handed the item over toward Siles and said, “Then give it a try.”
Siles lowered his eyes to look at the knuckle of what might be a person who died hundreds of years ago. He hesitated for an instant, then said, “Quinton, may I borrow your glove?”
Quinton looked at him with a half-smile.
Siles decided that, at least at this moment, for the sake of Quinton’s past kindness, he would maintain his composure no matter what Quinton said.
But Quinton said nothing. He simply extended his left hand and said, “Take it off.” He was holding that strange statue fragment with his right hand, so he couldn’t take off the glove himself.
Siles lowered his eyes, pulled off the black leather glove, and then put it onto his own left hand. He could feel the warmth left behind by Quinton inside the glove. This made him feel a slight sense of uninfatuation.
…Coming into contact with the knuckle of a corpse or coming into contact with Quinton’s body temperature; this seemed to be a choice that didn’t require deliberation.
Yet Siles still felt as though he had crossed a certain boundary. He thought to himself that he should have let Quinton hold it—but this fellow had handed the item directly in front of him, so Siles hadn’t even had the time to refuse.
There was no need to hesitate or regret now. Siles quickly discarded these unnecessary emotions, pulled a bottle of potion from his pocket with one hand, and took a small sip.
Quinton said with a somewhat playful smile, “Do you need me to turn around?”
“No need.” Siles could still afford this basic level of trust. He answered Quinton simply, then put on the spectacles frame that was always hanging from his chest, and looked toward the object suspected to be a ceramic item.
Three seconds later, his left hand trembled slightly.
Quinton said, “It seems the result is already very obvious.”
Siles took a deep breath and said in a low voice, “Indeed so.”
That was a severed, shriveled human knuckle that had already turned grayish-black. It was likely the middle bone of an index finger, with a thin layer of skin and flesh covering the outside of the bone. Having slept in a collapsed temple for over a hundred years, it had finally reappeared in the light of day.
And no one knew what exactly the owner of this knuckle had encountered.
Siles closed his eyes briefly, then took off his glasses. He said, “This thing… perhaps we can find a place to bury it.”
Quinton’s gaze carried a hint of singularity. He said, “You are quite kindhearted, Professor Noel—and you are actually a professor?”
“Yes,” Siles replied simply. “At Lamifa University.”
Quinton nodded and said honestly, “I don’t know much about Lamifa City, so I don’t know what the reputation of that university is like either. However, it seems you truly are a man of culture.”
They left the trade fair while chatting.
Siles asked, “You say I am a man of culture, but I feel that you ought to have received a good education as well?”
Judging by Quinton’s speech and his standard language of Konst, Quinton clearly already possessed outstanding knowledge for this era. Yet he always used a teasing tone to refer to Siles as a “man of culture.”
“Hmm…” Quinton seemed to hesitate for a moment, and finally, he said, “I received a relatively closed private education. It’s not the same as the schools you imagine.”
“Home education?”
“More or less,” Quinton said vaguely. “As for you, I suppose you are a scholar from an academic background?”
Siles was not at all surprised by Quinton’s method of quickly turning the spearhead from himself back onto Siles. Quinton seemed habituated to keeping his own past a deep secret, and always counter-questioned the other party’s situation with a slightly aggressive edge.
Siles said, “Indeed so. I come from a small village, and under my mother’s insistence, I kept studying and going to school, subsequently testing into Lamifa University to become a research scholar, and finally successfully staying on as faculty… A very ordinary experience.”
Of course, he omitted the convoluted past concerning Professor Cabel.
Quinton gave an ambiguous grunt, asking nothing further. Siles did not say much either. They arrived outside the hotel, and under the cover of the night, they buried that piece of finger bone beneath a certain large tree.
Siles stood there quietly for a moment, a slight sense of lamentation arising in his heart.
That tiny finger bone, when compared to temples, gods, and power, appeared highly insignificant. In reality, it was indeed an item that could be purchased using a mere 5 Marquis coins.
A human life was disguised as something else, and then placed onto the scales as a matter of course, becoming one end of a transaction. Behind this mysterious power lay a sufficiently cruel reality and icy rules.
They stood for a moment. Although Quinton appeared indifferent to Siles’s actions, he surprisingly stood there without displaying any signs of impatience, only occasionally still casting that thoughtful look at Siles.
A moment later, they returned to the room on the third floor of the Levi Hotel. Under Quinton’s repulsed gaze, that pair of black gloves was thrown directly into the trash bin on the street. They quickly washed up and lay on the bed to sleep.
Siles politely offered a goodnight. Last night on the train, they hadn’t said goodnight to each other, but today, Siles felt he ought to say goodnight to Quinton.
The light had already been extinguished. In the darkness, there was a long silence from Quinton’s side before a soft “Goodnight” finally drifted over. By this time, Siles had already sunk into a peaceful sleep under the effect of Akamara’s power.
A long time later, a soft chuckle sounded again in the quiet room. Those emerald green eyes gazed almost serenely at the night scenery outside the window, and after a while, they finally closed, and he slowly drifted off to sleep.
At eleven o’clock the next morning, after having brunch, the four of them arrived punctually at Maltz’s gray, dilapidated train station, waiting for the train to start.
Before departure, Alva, this young man, suddenly remarked that the upcoming train ride of three days and two nights would probably be very agonizing. He suggested bringing some forms of entertainment onto the train.
Siles and Quinton were indifferent to this, while Dr. Chester was currently in a highly active mental state, as if returning to the uplifting and pleasant emotions of his youth, so he immediately nodded in agreement.
Alva then immediately pulled a deck of cards from his bag, appearing to have come prepared. He said it was an entertainment method that had just recently started becoming popular.
None of the others had heard of it; it was likely more popular among the younger crowds.
Once the “First Snow Light” entered the station and they boarded Compartment 901, while waiting for the train to set off, Alva slowly introduced the rules of this entertainment method to them.
Compartment 901 meant the first compartment of Carriage 9. A carriage had about ten or so compartments, and each carriage had its own separate washroom.
Their compartment was located at the front end of this carriage, somewhat far from the washroom at the end of the carriage, but the air quality was relatively much better because of it.
When they entered, all four berths were in an unfolded state. They assigned their respective berths, and ultimately Siles and Quinton chose the two upper berths, while Alva and Chester took the lower berths.
They folded up the upper berths and placed their luggage beneath the lower berths. Subsequently, they gathered around the small table and sat down.
Quinton naturally sat down beside Siles, and Chester and Alva seemed to have no objections either, sitting down by themselves. Siles turned his head to look at Quinton, receiving an enigmatic glance… so Siles had no objections either.
Alva had already begun to explain the gameplay with great cheer.
Through his explanation, Siles gradually understood.
The gameplay of this game was somewhat similar to certain card games on Earth, but the card faces were not playing cards; instead, they featured the thirteen past old gods as the main cards, with each old god card possessing three attached believer cards.
The believer cards were not entirely distinct. Every old god card possessed a universal “Devout Believer” card, as well as two unique, special believer cards belonging to that specific old god.
Additionally, there were two function cards: one wildcard and one blank card.
Therefore, this game, named “Fate Cards”, possessed a total of 54 cards.
What a coincidence, Siles thought abstractedly. If it weren’t for the fact that he clearly knew this world was different from Earth, he would have thought that such a card game had been passed down from Earth.
After all, a deck of poker cards also possessed 54 cards.
“Fate Cards” required the participation of at least four people: three players and one dealer. The players needed to first draw an old god card at the start of the game. The old god card could not be revealed.
The key to victory or defeat in this game lay in the fact that, without exposing one’s own old god card, a player needed to gather the old god card plus the three attached believer cards to form a complete set.
Once a player’s old god card was exposed or pointed out, that player would be eliminated.
After drawing the old god cards, the dealer would shuffle the deck. The old god cards that were not drawn would also be placed back into the deck to be shuffled. After shuffling, the dealer would draw three community cards, and would replenish the community cards at the start of each player’s turn, while simultaneously dealing a hand card to the player.
Among the community cards, except for the old god cards which would remain hidden face-down to prevent their faces from being exposed, all other cards would be face-up. This meant that when replenishing the community cards, the dealer would see the card faces earlier than the players, because he needed to ensure that the old god cards remained face-down.
On each turn, a player could choose to return a hand card to the dealer (face-down and entering the discard pile), but could not request a replacement; alternatively, they could choose to exchange a hand card with a community card, but doing so required placing their own hand card face-up into the community cards.
A player could hold a maximum of five hand cards and needed to hold a minimum of two hand cards.
Because during the process of returning or exchanging hand cards, it was highly likely to expose one’s own old god faction and the contents of the believer cards already held, players had to carefully consider how to reconstruct their sets.
Furthermore, since a player could hold up to five hand cards, the extra card outside of one’s faction was also worth considering and pondering over.
There was only one circumstance under which an old god card could be changed: by exchanging it with an old god card among the community cards. After the exchange, the original old god card would have to be revealed face-up and discarded, kept by the dealer.
Of course, if a player was dealt a second old god card, they could also choose not to exchange it and temporarily keep it in their hand. (However, there were some special circumstances regarding this, Alva supplemented at this point.)
If all three community cards were old god cards, the dealer would confirm whether any player wished to make an exchange; if no player made an exchange, then all three old god cards would be revealed face-up and subsequently discarded, and the dealer would replenish the community cards anew.
Discarded old god cards would not be shuffled back into the deck. Therefore, as the game progressed, fewer and fewer old god cards would remain, and the players’ old god factions would become increasingly clear and definite. In the end, time would also become a deadly ticking clock.
Since there were only thirteen old god cards in total, the configuration of three players plus one dealer was the most common.
Each round of the game proceeded in either a clockwise or counterclockwise order of the players. Only when it was a player’s turn would the dealer deal a card to him, and only then could the player perform the action of returning a hand card or exchanging a community card.
The effects of the two function cards were as follows:
The wildcard could only take effect when the dealer dealt hand cards. If it were placed into the community cards, the dealer would take it away and place it into the discard pile, awaiting the next shuffle. The wildcard could substitute for any believer card, but could not substitute for an old god card.
The blank card could only take effect when the dealer dealt it into the community cards, and the player whose turn it currently was would decide what this card would be. The player of the current turn could choose to exchange this card or not. Similarly, the blank card could substitute for any believer card, but could not substitute for an old god card.
Having spoken up to this point, Alva took a large breath, appearing to be completely parched.
Dr. Chester said gently, “Perhaps we can try playing a round firsthand?”
Alva nodded, and then added with exceptional seriousness, “However, you must know. There are also some special rules inside. After all, if it were just the contents I’ve spoken of, it couldn’t be called ‘Fate Cards.'”
Siles asked with great interest, “What rules are they?”
“Um… for example, some old god cards cannot be converted into another specific old god card,” Alva said. “Because these two factions are completely opposed to each other, such as Life and Death.
“And for some old god cards, if you obtain them later and the old god card in your hand also matches up, then you must perform a conversion.”
“Must convert?”
“Yes. For example, if the old god card in your hand is ‘The Joyful Drunkard.’ If the dealer subsequently deals ‘The Chef of the Banquet,’ then the Drunkard card must be converted into the Chef card. Of course, it doesn’t matter if ‘The Chef of the Banquet’ appears among the community cards.”
Quinton let out a laugh of ambiguous meaning at this point.
Siles froze slightly, feeling a sudden chill at this moment.
The drunkard and… the Chef?
Chester said with a hint of lamentation, “How interesting! It truly does give a sense of fate—according to this, the dealer is the person who decides the players’ fates. This is the first time I’ve heard of this game.”
Alva scratched his hair with some embarrassment. He said, “This deck was manufactured by my family’s printing factory. We printed over a thousand sets, and it was just recently released a short while ago. It has slowly started becoming popular among some younger groups.”
Siles felt some curiosity toward the inventor of this card game. He inquired about the details, but Alva shook his head, saying with regret that he didn’t know who had placed the order either.
After signing the purchase agreement, that customer had vanished without a trace, instead leaving it to the printing factory to decide the whereabouts of these cards. Although the money had already been paid, this had still left Alva’s parents completely bewildered.
Ultimately, these cards and these game rules were casually promoted to Alva and his former middle school classmates, and gradually gained a bit of popularity.
Chester couldn’t wait any longer and said, “Alright! Let’s play a round!”
Siles was elected as the dealer for the first round of the game. Perhaps because of his cold and composed face, it was impossible for people to imagine how he would immerse himself in such a playful game.
Alva picked out the thirteen old god cards from the deck, shuffled them randomly on the table, stacked them up again, and drew one at random for himself, while Quinton and Chester also each drew one from the pile.
Subsequently, Alva handed the deck of cards to Siles.
Siles took the cards, which were similar to playing cards. The size and feel were both highly similar. He couldn’t help but draw one from among them—it was Ligadia, the God of Leaving Home and Journeys.
Siles froze slightly because of the result of this draw.
After a brief moment, he snapped out of it, smiled apologetically, and then, without a second thought, utilized the skilled shuffling techniques he had acquired from Earth, jarring everyone present.
Quinton subconsciously straightened his body, his gaze shifting back and forth between Siles’s long, pale fingers and the deck of cards that was being shuffled with a crisp clack-clack-clack.
Alva widened his eyes in disbelief, shouting out, “Wait! That is way too cool! Professor, please you must show us that again!”
He was now following Chester’s lead in calling Siles “Professor” as well.
Chester even couldn’t resist taking the deck over to examine it, then lamented, “Professor, you truly are the name-vindicating manipulator of ‘Fate Cards.'”
The speaker had no ulterior motive, but the listener took it to heart. Siles glanced at Dr. Chester, and after a moment of hesitation, said, “This is very simple, just a method of shuffling cards, that’s all.”
Outside the carriage window, a long whistle echoed from the locomotive. They were about to depart.
The three of them followed Siles to learn the shuffling technique. But this truly wasn’t something easy to learn; Siles had only achieved perfection through practice because he used to play card games with friends constantly.
His fingers were so flexible and elegant, lightly separating the cards, bending them, pinching the edges, snapping them open, and then the cards would obediently fall down one by one in sequence. It was highly pleasing to the eye.
But when the others tried it, they either dropped cards left and right or snapped the cards to other places, leaving themselves in a wretched state.
In the end, Alva said dejectedly, “Professor, I think it’s better if you remain the dealer throughout. Our techniques are truly complete rubbish.”
Siles smiled faintly and agreed.
The identity of the dealer had once again fallen into his hands, and furthermore—this was a fate card game.
The twelve o’clock train. Having nothing to do, they played for three or four hours straight on the train.
Alva was a lively player, enthusiastic and loquacious, and always liked to review the rounds afterwards. He didn’t care much about his own failures either, appearing to entirely enjoy the fun of the game.
Dr. Chester was gentle and introverted, but his card-playing skills were unexpectedly terrible, and his luck wasn’t very good either. The situation Alva mentioned, where the Drunkard card had to be replaced by the Chef card, was only ever encountered by Chester, and twice at that.
As for Quinton, although this explorer constantly displayed a bit of impatience and a rather poor temper, when he played cards, he was unexpectedly steady, enduring, and capable of a single-strike kill.
During a certain round, after observing and pondering for the better part of the game, he actually exposed the old god cards of both Chester and Alva in one go.
Alva widened his eyes in disbelief once more, saying in horror, “How did you find out?!”
Quinton shrugged elegantly, then said, “As long as you remember what cards the two of you exchanged during every single round, then it becomes very easy to deduce.”
“Every single round… remember everything…” The look Chester directed at Quinton was more akin to looking at a monster.
Quinton supplemented, “Of course, this can’t be done in every single game either. It’s just that the two of you were acting too obvious just now. Exchanging the Thief card for a Devout card? Seriously, that was way too impatient, even though you still had enough empty slots in your hand.”
The Thief card was one of the special believer cards belonging to the old god card of Hoodoka, the God of Sin and Lies, the shadowy side of the world (referred to as the Shadow card for short). And the Devout card was the abbreviation for the universal believer card “Devout Believer.”
Alva widened his eyes, seemingly not thinking that exchanging a Thief card for a Devout card posed any issue.
Meanwhile, Siles explained from the side in a deep voice, “This has to be looked at in conjunction with the complete state of the game. At that time, the majority of the old god cards had already been discarded, leaving only four choices.
“The Shadow card, the Journey card, the War card, and the Death card. You exchanged the Thief card out, so you did not hold the Shadow card in your hand. What Quinton meant is that you could have entirely kept the Thief card in your hand instead of being so rushed to make an exchange; after all, Devout cards are always numerous.
“Quinton held the Journey card in his hand. In other words, for you and Chester, your old god card could be War or Death, but could not be Shadow; whereas Chester was left with the Shadow card plus your two possibilities.
“Simultaneously, Chester chose to exchange the Thief card you discarded into his hand, so his faction was highly likely to be Shadow.”
Alva couldn’t help but say, “Indeed so. But what of it?”
Chester also nodded. “This is very reasonable. But how can one differentiate the possibilities from those two factions?”
A choice between two options was a bit like gambling on luck. But how had Quinton confirmed the answer?
“This is very simple.” Quinton suddenly laughed. “I ought to thank fate instead.”
He cast Siles a glance, then displayed his hand cards.
He held a total of four hand cards. The main card Journey, the universal Devout, the secondary card Train (which was the special believer card of the Journey card), and furthermore, the main card Death.
Three players and four main cards, with one player possessing two main cards while another player had already exposed his main card. Therefore, the main card in Alva’s hand was naturally plain to see.
Alva looked at Siles in shock, then said loudly, “I actually lost to fate! I am not convinced! Let’s play another round!”
And then they truly played countless more rounds.
It was only when the light of dusk illuminated a corner of the carriage window pane that Siles suggested, “Perhaps we should go to the dining car to eat.”
The others agreed as well. Soon, they arrived at the dining car.
