The flea market was even more massive than Siles had imagined.
Rather than resembling the vaulted arcades of the October Market in Lamifa City, this place felt more like a low-slung bazaar patched together from one cloth stall to the next. The hawking and shouting of the peddlers gave the entire area a bustling, noisy, and thoroughly lively atmosphere.
Siles was reminded of certain marketplace scenes back on Earth, which often possessed an incredibly rich, exotic charm. However, the moment he actually stepped into the crowd, he suddenly realized that this world was not quite like Earth.
…At the very least, a marketplace on Earth wouldn’t feature strange, bizarre items that looked as though they had just been dug out of a grave.
Chester and Alva had already merged into the crowd and vanished from sight. Quinton remained right by Siles’s side.
Siles asked him in a low voice, “Is grave robbing a very common occurrence in the Ashless Lands?”
Quinton glanced sideways at him, then replied, “That depends entirely on whose perspective you’re taking. If you’re looking at it from the standpoint of those archaeologists, then those people are naturally damnable tomb raiders.
“However, if you look at it from an explorer’s perspective, they’ve merely discovered a ruin hidden in the mist and are selling what they obtained. Exploration is the true norm of the Ashless Lands.”
Siles was struck by a wave of realization. He reflected that this was a world still in development; a chaotic order was the true status quo.
He said with genuine interest, “So, in a market like this, one can actually buy items discovered in those ruins?”
“Perhaps,” Quinton said. “This is a relatively—ordinary market, if one could describe it that way. Therefore, it’s highly unlikely for rare, ancient Time Traces to appear here. Those items are sold in other places.
“Furthermore, some explorers are possessive of their meager findings, reluctant to sell what they’ve uncovered. Many years ago, an explorer claimed he had discovered an ancient tribal ruin, but he couldn’t produce a shred of evidence.
“People suspected he was either lying or felt the items from that place were too precious to allow others to encroach upon them… Whatever the case, the Ashless Lands are always filled with countless rumors.”
Quinton shrugged.
Siles caught his breath slightly, thinking to himself that the person Quinton was referring to seemed to be… Alfonso Carte?
The tribal ruin Alfonso had discovered… the Prophet mentioned on the parchment, the fountain pen with technology far exceeding the current era… To this day, Siles still didn’t know what secrets were hidden within the tribal ruin Alfonso had found.
“Ah!”
“What the hell!”
“…Watch out!” Quinton suddenly grabbed Siles.
Siles halted his steps, nearly crashing directly into Quinton. He caught a glimpse of the fine black chain around Quinton’s neck swaying back and forth, the circular ornament hanging from it almost slipping out of his collar.
Without thinking too much about it, Siles straightened up and thanked Quinton in a low voice.
It wasn’t that Siles hadn’t been watching where he was going. A man had suddenly rushed out from up ahead, barging recklessly through a vast swath of stalls and drawing a chorus of curses before hurtling right past Siles’s side.
Quinton had been quick-witted and fast-acting, pulling Siles toward himself to keep him from being knocked flat by the fellow.
Siles frowned, hearing the vendors still chattering away in furious condemnation. He turned his head curiously toward the direction where the man had vanished, then remarked, “His running speed…”
“He must have used some kind of ritual,” Quinton said.
Why would he be fleeing in such a desperate manner? Siles wondered. He had noticed that the man’s face bore an expression of sheer panic and extreme terror.
However, since it was only a fleeting encounter, he couldn’t gather any further information. Thus, he turned his attention to another matter: “It suddenly occurs to me that back at Maltz’s trade fair, I heard of a ritual called [Body of Lightness], and its Time Trace is a feather.”
“Are you talking about the feather of a birdman?” Quinton said dismissively. “That’s actually a rather useless ritual. Utilizing it allows a pair of invisible wings to unfold upon your back.
“But honestly, those wings are good for fanning a breeze at best; it’s impossible to actually make someone fly. The most it can do is—just like the ritual’s name suggests—make your body a bit lighter.”
Siles understood perfectly now.
Quinton looked back thoughtfully and said, “Speaking of which… the effect is quite similar to how that fellow looked when he was running just now.”
“Then the effect is still quite decent,” Siles noted, before shifting his question. “What is a birdman?”
“A harmless mutant creature,” Quinton explained. “People suspect that initially, someone came into contact with the will of an old god related to Trisli and became contaminated. Subsequently, this corruption seeped into their bloodline and has been passed down ever since.”
Trisli. The God of High Mountains and Rivers.
This deity was generally considered to be associated with nature, wildlife, and the like. Therefore, it was only logical for people to suspect that birdmen were connected to this god.
In fact, many mutant creatures were likely linked to Trisli, not just birdmen.
Siles nodded thoughtfully. He asked, “Harmless? So, there are also harmful mutant creatures?”
“Of course,” Quinton said. “I once visited a certain place in Gainsde and encountered a group of subterranean creatures. They deeply feared and loathed the light, and they detested humans walking on the surface. They would indiscriminately attack any creature that accidentally stumbled into their territory.
“The explorers traveling with me at the time all died. I managed to save two of them on a whim, but even then, I couldn’t get them out of Gainsde entirely whole. The danger of these mutant creatures stems from our complete lack of understanding of them.”
Siles understood.
However, Quinton’s story came as a slight surprise to Siles. After pondering for a moment, he finally said, “Quinton, I seem to have heard of this incident before.”
Quinton looked at him in surprise.
Siles said, “The travelogue of that explorer I mentioned to you—Fredman. It seems he encountered one of the people you rescued and recorded their experience.
“The record also mentioned a powerful explorer who saved the two of them… That was you, wasn’t it? No name was given in the text, so I didn’t expect to run into the person involved right here.”
Quinton was also somewhat stunned. In the end, he spoke: “It seems our meeting was predestined, Siles.”
Siles was slightly taken aback, feeling a subtle ripple of emotion.
Quinton turned his head, his emerald-green eyes scanning Siles with an unreadable meaning. Finally, he laughed. “I am very glad, Siles, that you had already heard of my deeds so long ago.”
Siles was somewhat unsure how to respond to this, hesitating for a moment.
“You don’t need to answer anything, I just want you to know my thoughts,” Quinton said with absolute honesty. “I believe this is what a friend ought to do—be candid, just as you said.”
Hearing this, Siles breathed a slight sigh of relief and said, “Of course… I mean, I am also very glad to have met you, Quinton.”
Quinton let out a meaningful, low chuckle. He said, “I am naturally very pleased that you think so.”
Siles thought to himself that he truly did mean it—after all, Quinton was a powerful, highly experienced explorer who had indeed helped Siles a great deal during this journey through the Ashless Lands.
But the question was, what was Quinton thinking?
Siles always felt that the answer to this question would give him a headache.
By tacit agreement, they bypassed the topic and continued strolling through the flea market. Siles eventually came across an item he wished to add to his collection—a beautiful set of bookmarks.
Just as the stallkeeper opened his mouth to explain, Quinton beat him to it, explaining the details to Siles as if enumerating his own family treasures: “This is a commemorative edition set of bookmarks issued by Biedel City a few years ago to celebrate the city’s centennial.
“Therefore, you can see several landmark buildings of Biedel City on the bookmarks, as well as people and things that represent the city. However, despite being a commemorative edition, the circulation was quite large, so the value isn’t terribly exorbitant.”
With that, Quinton shifted his gaze to the vendor.
The vendor opened his mouth, then finally slumped his shoulders in dejection. “Yes. Ten cards to a set. You can pay in the currency of either the Duchy of Konst or the Duchy of Kansas. Thank you for your patronage.”
Siles paid 5 marquis coins and purchased the set of bookmarks. He quite liked the heavy, oil-painting style depicted on them, though the artistic style of this world wasn’t entirely identical to Earth’s.
If Siles had to describe it, he always felt that the artwork of this world carried a more mysterious temperament; whether it was the chaotic lines or the bold use of color, both could vividly explain this point.
He held the set of bookmarks in his hands to admire them for a moment, then placed them into his bag with satisfaction. Turning his eyes, Siles caught Quinton watching him with a thoughtful gaze.
Siles froze slightly, then let out a soft sigh and said, “Quinton, if you have something to say, just say it. Don’t just stare at me like that.”
Quinton said, “It’s nothing. I just feel that your fondness for books is truly extraordinary. Even upon arriving in the Ashless Lands, you still purchase items related to reading.”
While on the train, he had frequently seen Siles leaning his head down to read. Sometimes, when the two of them were on the upper berths, Siles would look at his book, and Quinton would look at Siles. Time would always slip away like that for a very long while.
And Siles had never raised his head to notice his gaze. Books seemed to have utterly consumed Siles’s attention.
Siles caught his breath slightly, then said, “It is merely a… hobby.” He added, “Quinton, do you mean to say you don’t have any hobbies of your own?”
They continued to weave through the throngs of people. Strangers brushed past them, and they brushed past these transient encounters, yet the two of them remained walking side by side.
“Perhaps…” Quinton pondered for a moment. “Investigating matters related to the old gods?”
“That is the proper work we are currently undertaking, not a hobby,” Siles said softly. “A hobby is what one does outside of proper business.”
“Oh…” Quinton offered a noncommittal response. He seemed to think for a while, and then said, “Then perhaps, my hobby is… you?”
Siles stopped in his tracks almost instinctively, turning his head to look over with a look of sheer bewilderment. “What?”
Just as Quinton was about to answer, someone suddenly interrupted his words: “Ah! Professor! Mr. Quinton!”
Alva came running over in high spirits, but the upward curve of his lips slowly flattened, then dipped downward, until finally, he said while trembling slightly, “M-Mr. Quinton…?”
Quinton narrowed his eyes, sizing him up, before finally letting out a cold sneer. “It’s nothing.”
Dr. Chester followed closely behind Alva, seemingly oblivious to the bizarre atmosphere, and simply asked, “Did you buy anything? Alva and I have quite a harvest.”
Indeed, their hands were laden with large and small packages alike. Siles found it a bit hard to imagine—that is to say, were there truly so many things worth buying in this flea market?
As twilight approached, a chill set in, and they prepared to head back. Before they did, however, Alva said huffily, “I need to go find the manager here to lodge a complaint first!”
With that, he marched toward a burly man standing near the entrance of the flea market who looked like a guard.
“What happened?” Siles asked, somewhat perplexed.
Chester explained, “A man just came barging through recklessly and knocked Alva down. He happened to have just purchased a colored glass lamp, which shattered completely, and the vendor refused to give him a refund or exchange. This matter has left Alva rather displeased.”
Siles finally understood. He remarked, “We also encountered that man. I wonder what was wrong with him.”
“When we were coming over, we did hear some talk on the street,” Dr. Chester said after a brief hesitation. “However, I don’t know if it’s true or false… it sounds a bit too bizarre.”
Siles felt a prickle of curiosity and said, “Perhaps you can tell us in detail once we return to the inn.”
Chester nodded in agreement.
Alva returned shortly, looking rather dejected. “How utterly pointless. It’s completely impossible to get any compensation, so I just have to accept my bad luck.” He sighed and groaned for a moment, but quickly perked up again. “Fortunately, I bought two lamps!”
This comment brought a smile to the faces of Siles and the others.
They returned to the Old John Inn. The temperature had plummeted rapidly, prompting Siles to don his coat. They first returned to their respective rooms to put away their purchases. Quinton hadn’t bought anything, so he waited for Siles right outside his door.
Siles seemed to have entirely forgotten the “hobby” question Quinton had posed earlier, asking with great interest instead, “What could possibly be wrong with that man?”
Quinton looked as though he wanted to say something, but in the end, he merely cooperated with the change of subject: “Perhaps it’s some kind of old god contamination again.”
“Is this sort of thing very common in the Ashless Lands?”
“So common that it couldn’t be any more common,” Quinton said with an almost bored air. “Some explorers even use it to joke with one another. ‘What kind of contamination did you suffer? Ah, me too, what a coincidence!’ Ha, that’s just how things are; that’s just how the Ashless Lands are.”
That sarcastic tone had woven its way back onto Quinton.
On the contrary, Siles felt that Quinton seemed more normal this way. It wasn’t that he thought the Quinton from earlier was abnormal; he simply felt that—whether it was specifically reminding him to bring a coat or claiming his hobby was Siles—such things didn’t quite match Quinton’s usual demeanor.
This gray-haired, brown-skinned, green-eyed explorer… wasn’t exactly suited for occasions of pouring out one’s heart. That was how Siles viewed it.
“Aside from old god contamination, I imagine Blesser contamination is much the same?” Siles inquired.
“Naturally,” Quinton replied. “For certain Revelators, I feel they are no longer themselves, but rather the person whose power they are borrowing. Past souls are being resurrected within them; it’s quite fascinating.”
These words reminded Siles of his past experiences in Lamifa City, where he had dispelled mental contamination for Revelators. Looking back now, that period of research felt like a lifetime ago.
They walked down the stairs together. The inn’s front door stood open, allowing a gust of cold wind to sweep inside, making Siles frown. He pulled the zipper of his coat a bit higher.
“That’s just how the desert is,” Quinton noted in transition. “If you stay in the Ashless Lands a bit longer, you might even see the snowscape of the wasteland.”
Siles couldn’t help but marvel, “That sounds very picturesque.”
Quinton asked, seemingly in passing, “So, how long do you plan to stay in the Ashless Lands?”
“Perhaps a week?” Siles answered. “My winter break is only three weeks long, and a large portion of it must be spent on the road. Once I return to Lamifa City, I must continue writing my thesis.
“You will likely remain in the Ashless Lands, won’t you, Quinton?”
Quinton looked as if he wanted to say something, but in the end, he merely closed his mouth moodily. After a brief pause, he muttered, “Perhaps.”
When the two of them arrived at the dining room, the atmosphere was unexpectedly oppressive. It was only when Chester and Alva arrived that things began to improve.
Alva shot a highly perceptive look at Siles and Quinton, asking once more, “Did you two have a fight?”
This time, he didn’t receive an inexplicable look in return.
Siles cast a calm glance at him and spoke in an equally flat tone, “We did not.”
Quinton, meanwhile, kept his eyes lowered, his face devoid of expression, maintaining a thoroughly resolute silence—as if he were forcing himself to hold his tongue.
Chester said gently, “Let’s eat first. I can tell you about that man’s situation now.”
Siles was still quite curious about the matter. Thus, over dinner, they ate while listening to Chester’s recounting.
The details Chester provided regarding that man were somewhat fragmented, clearly pieced together from the idle gossip of various market vendors.
According to those peddlers, the man was named Joseph, surname unknown. He had appeared in Biedel City six or seven years ago and had consistently maintained that half-mad state.
Joseph had a female companion. The exact nature of the relationship between the two was unclear; at least, the vendors hadn’t explicitly stated whether she was his wife or mistress. However, they had apparently kept each other company for many years.
Joseph had arrived in Biedel City first, and the woman appeared by his side afterward. She seemed to take care of his daily life, while he provided her with protection. In a chaotic and dangerous city like this, living entirely alone easily invited trouble.
However, this female companion had suddenly vanished a few days ago.
The woman’s reputation didn’t seem to be particularly sterling either. Chester mentioned that some people referred to her as a “witch.” This descriptor stirred Siles’s thoughts, evoking a slight sense of nuance.
The woman seemed to go by a name like Lila or Lia. Following Lila’s disappearance, Joseph became even more crazed, constantly running hither and thither, searching for Lila all over the city.
Over the past couple of days, Joseph seemed to have focused his targets on the flea market. He claimed someone had killed Lila, but he didn’t know who the killer was, nor did he know where Lila’s corpse was hidden. He merely kept saying that someone had killed Lila.
“Is he searching for the killer?” Siles asked.
He felt a sense of perplexity in his heart, because when Joseph had hurtled past them earlier, Siles had noted that the man’s expression was one of panic and utter terror.
If Joseph was searching for the killer, why would he wear such an expression?
“According to the marketplace vendors, yes,” Chester nodded. “So even when Joseph knocked over their stalls, they only hurled a few curses and didn’t start a conflict with him. Because they knew Joseph was a madman, and a pitiable one at that.”
Quinton suddenly let out a cold sneer at this point, remarking, “This sort of thing is a common occurrence in the cities and stations of the Ashless Lands. They don’t provoke Joseph simply because they’re afraid of bringing trouble upon themselves. Who knows what Joseph and Lila actually did, or what they managed to provoke?”
These words caused the table to fall silent for a brief moment.
Finally, Siles spoke up: “That is indeed true. People always wish to protect themselves.”
Quinton looked at him.
Chester glanced between the two of them, and finally let out a sigh. “Professor Noel, Mr. Quinton—no matter what issue has arisen in your relationship, I hope you two can sit down and have a proper talk, how about it?”
Siles blinked his eyes, and finally offered an objective reply: “You should say those words to Quinton.”
Quinton stared unblinkingly at him and said, “In a few days, you’ll be leaving the Ashless Lands.”
“A week,” Siles corrected, adding, “Yes.”
Quinton hesitated for a long while before finally speaking in an almost tender tone: “May I come to Lamifa City to find you?”
“If that is what you’ve been pondering…” Siles said, “Of course you may, Quinton. I would welcome your visit.”
At this, Quinton gave an imperceptible sigh of relief. A complacent smile tugged at the corner of his lips, and his entire aura relaxed in an instant. He remarked casually, “Oh, Old John’s dining room actually tastes quite decent.”
Across from them, Alva and Chester stared at the pair.
Finally, Alva said, “I truly don’t understand… is this what the adult world is like?”
“No,” Chester corrected. “This is their world.”
Alva wore a look of sudden enlightenment.
Siles looked at them in silence.
“In all seriousness, Professor, I believe your… acquaintance with Mr. Quinton,” Chester pondered for a moment before selecting the word, “can at least guarantee your safety in the Ashless Lands.
“We are currently pursuing a highly dangerous matter. I have already put life and death out of mind, but that is not the case for you; you have a far more grand future ahead.”
“Of course,” Quinton chimed in before Siles could answer, adding, “I will naturally protect Siles well.”
Siles’s hand holding his fork paused in midair. After a moment’s hesitation, he finally said, “I understand. Thank you for your kind intentions.”
Chester’s gaze seemed to ask, What exactly is it that you understand?
However, at that very moment, the merchant Jerome Lanmere happened to appear at the entrance of the dining room. He peeked around, spotted Siles’s party, and immediately strode over.
He said, “Ah! Good evening, Siles, you all are indeed here. I originally intended to look for you upstairs, but none of you were in your rooms, so I guessed you must have come down to the dining room for dinner.”
“Good evening,” Siles greeted him first, before asking with some surprise, “Has the investigation already yielded results?”
Lanmere carried an air of great invigoration, as if he had uncovered some incredibly useful piece of information that could immediately unravel his predicament. Consequently, that triumphant aura practically bled through his expression.
He asked, “Have you finished eating?”
Siles nodded. The other three also set down their utensils, indicating they had finished their dinner.
Thus, they temporarily relocated. Lanmere escorted them to a drawing room located at the far end of the first floor. This place was exceptionally quiet, and the French windows offered a view of the brightly lit exterior being lashed by the raging wind.
Once seated, Lanmere spoke with eager anticipation: “You were right! Those missing workers have indeed turned into statues. Furthermore, it’s not just them who have been turned into statues.”
Siles expressed a slight touch of confusion: “How was this discovered?”
“I went directly to investigate the recent art market,” Lanmere said with near-smugness. “I’ve invested in a portion of it myself, so I can obtain information that outsiders cannot.
“In short, over the past month or two, an anonymous seller has successively placed multiple human statues into the auction houses. Their expressions vary, and their level of completion is extremely high, so they were quickly bought up by collectors.
“Fortunately, two statues hadn’t been auctioned off yet, so I rushed to buy them up. I examined them closely and confirmed that one of the statues is a worker who used to labor for me!”
At this point, the smug expression on Lanmere’s face slowly faded, replaced instead by a sigh and lingering dread.
The others exchanged glances, all falling into a profound silence.
Alva blinked his eyes, saying in near-stupefaction, “The… art market?”
Chester noted with indignation, “What kind of madman could commit such a horrific act!”
Siles had already been mentally prepared for such an outcome—considering the statue of the woman’s head left behind by Professor Cabel!—so at this moment, he remained entirely calm and composed.
These masterminds are sending these statues into the art market likely to contaminate even more people, aren’t they? In their own eyes, they are spreading their faith? Siles surmised.
He merely asked with a hint of curiosity, “Could the identity of the other statue not be confirmed?”
Lanmere shook his head, his tone returning to its usual state. He said, “It’s a woman.”
The moment he said this, Alva’s eyes widened almost instantly, and he shouted, “Lila!”
Lanmere cast a perplexed look at the young man and asked, “Who is Lila?”
Chester briefly summarized their encounter at the flea market earlier that day. Lanmere listened with great interest and mused, “To think there is such a matter! In that case, that statue could truly be Lila.”
This deduction left none of them feeling particularly comfortable.
Siles weighed his words for a moment, then said, “If the workers’ plight stems from what happened last year, why would Lila become entangled in this matter?”
Lanmere nodded and said, “That is indeed a question. I will look into it, and I should have word by tomorrow.”
Siles thanked him, then asked, “Lanmere, regarding House of Hales…”
Lanmere’s expression instantly grew solemn, and he said, “This happens to be the second matter I wished to speak with you about.”
Siles looked at him with some surprise.
If it were merely that House of Hales had consistently circulated rumors regarding a “treasure map” over the past decade, Lanmere’s demeanor shouldn’t be this grave, given that Siles had already mentioned it to him before.
Now, Lanmere’s expression suggested that this matter had taken an unexpected turn.
Thus, Siles inquired, “What did you uncover?”
“I had my people compile all the rumors related to the ‘Non-existent City,’ ‘treasure maps,’ and ‘mysterious maps’ from September to November over the past ten years, just as you suggested, and discovered…” He suddenly swallowed hard, as if his throat had gone dry from tension.
The entire drawing room fell completely silent.
Lanmere continued, “Every year at this time, two or three stations, villages, or cities scattered across various parts of the Ashless Lands would circulate relevant rumors.”
This piece of information did catch Siles off guard: “Scattered across various parts of the Ashless Lands… two or three places?”
“Yes,” Lanmere said in a low voice.
This development left Siles somewhat unprepared.
He had initially thought this matter only involved House of Hales, but now it extended to other stations… this made things rather peculiar. Could this band of perpetrators be moving around and committing crimes all over the place?
“What about House of Hales specifically?” Quinton inquired.
Lanmere recalled, “As for House of Hales, relevant rumors were circulated during four specific years: ten years ago, seven years ago, last year, and this year.”
“Four times out of ten isn’t a small amount,” Siles observed.
“Indeed,” Lanmere agreed. “Perhaps this will be our breakthrough point.”
“Why do you say that?”
“According to the results of my investigation, there has never been a case where relevant rumors were circulated in consecutive years. Yet House of Hales broke that pattern with last year and this year. Either the situation has undergone some kind of change, or…”
Lanmere left his sentence hanging meaningfully.
Siles said, “It seems we must still hasten to House of Hales as quickly as possible.”
He needed to locate Alfonso and Emmanuel to share the information he had gathered over the past period. Furthermore, Siles was highly intrigued by the survivor Alfonso had mentioned in his previous letter.
He hoped they had made some breakthroughs on their end as well.
Lanmere nodded and said, “Perhaps you can set out tomorrow afternoon. I will arrange horses and a guide for you—can you ride?”
Chester and Alva both nodded, and Quinton was naturally not a concern. As for Siles… Siles…
Siles fell into a nuanced silence.
The original owner of the body had grown up on a small-town farm, so he naturally possessed the skill of horsemanship. However, the transmigrated He Jiayin had only ever experienced sitting atop a horse during recreational trips, ambling along at a snail’s pace under the watchful guidance of staff members.
In other words, he wasn’t at all confident in his ability to journey by horseback.
Finding the matter troublesome, he pondered a solution.
Quinton cast a half-smile at him, then remarked teasingly, “No need to worry, Professor, I can carry you.”
Siles looked at him in silence.
Lanmere didn’t care about the finer details and immediately clapped his hands. “Oh, that’s an excellent choice. I will arrange a double saddle, so Siles can simply sit behind Mr. Quinton when the time comes. If the horse can’t take the weight…”
Quinton said, “No need to worry, I have a relevant ritual.”
Lanmere replied, “That’s perfect then. I will do my best to arrange strong horses for you. Looking at it this way, you might even arrive tomorrow night if you ride hard.”
None of the others had any objections, so Siles tacitly accepted this arrangement.
Lanmere departed shortly after, presumably to continue his investigation into the statues.
Alva asked, “Are we going out for another stroll?” He paused. “Though, won’t Biedel City be quite dangerous at night?”
“It will,” Chester said. “We can go for a stroll tomorrow morning instead.”
Alva agreed and stood up to stretch. “Then let’s head back and get some rest early. See you tomorrow.”
They all returned to their rooms upstairs.
Quinton bid Siles an casual “goodnight” and returned to his own room. Siles stood in place, lowering his eyes in thought for a moment before letting out a soft laugh.
He reflected that there was really no need to overthink things. Coming to a new land, meeting new people, and making new friends was a perfectly natural progression.
Quinton’s personality certainly gave him a bit of a headache, but people in this day and age always had eccentric friends. Earthling, don’t be so easily startled; this is a world with extraordinary powers after all, he admonished himself.
With that, he breathed a sigh of relief, pushed these troubles to the back of his mind, stepped into his room, and sat down on the sofa, staring blankly at the ceiling for a moment. He suddenly realized that this seemed to be the very first time he had enjoyed a quiet moment of complete solitude since setting out.
Of course, it wasn’t as if he hadn’t been alone around noon today, but at that time, his thoughts had been consumed entirely by matters regarding the Ashless Lands, as well as daily chores like bathing and washing clothes.
Thinking of clothes, he stood up unhurriedly and walked out to the balcony. After confirming that his garments were completely dry, he gathered them up and neatly tucked them into his bag. He stood in a daze for a while, suddenly overcome by a long-absent swell of emotion.
This was a foreign country, a foreign land… a foreign planet. His distant homeland lay at an untold distance away from the Fisher World. Home, sweet home. Would he ever be able to return to his family and friends in this lifetime?
Siles closed his eyes, contemplating quietly for a moment, before resolutely yet peacefully suppressing that emotion.
It was entirely meaningless; it would only serve to make him miss his Earth all the more.
Naturally, he couldn’t help but wonder why exactly he had transmigrated. Why had he come to this world and become Siles Noel?
At this juncture, he was ultimate unable to arrive at an answer.
Slowly yet irrevocably, he had begun to view this world as a part of himself. He had started to comprehend this world, understanding its rules of operation and social etiquettes; he had also gained friends, a profession, and hobbies here.
He still held a deep attachment to his homeland, yet he had already integrated into this foreign land, he thought.
He pondered for a moment, ultimately unable to suppress a sigh, before shaking his head with a wry smile, feeling that he had thought of far too many things on this particular night. He put his backpack away, then headed to the washroom to freshen up.
He took another bath. If possible, he preferred to bathe every day, even during the bitter winter months. However, it was glaringly obvious that a station like House of Hales might not possess the convenient amenities of this luxury hotel.
…He was already starting to miss Lamifa City. How terrible.
After his bath, Siles flipped through his books for a while.
He had already finished reading Literature Beneath the Mists of the Age of Silence. The book he pulled out now was titled The Land Forgotten by the World.
The content was largely similar to what he had envisioned. This book chronicled the lands that had been shrouded in mist during the Age of Silence. During the Age of Mist, the fog over some of these lands had dissipated.
Even so, what had once been prosperous, bustling territories had transformed into dead, desolate wastes. No one would ever remember these lands again, just as no one would remember what the world looked like before the mist descended.
The book listed several highly representative land plots, among which was Tauohetia, the former capital of the Sardinian Empire. In terms of territory, that corresponded precisely to the southeastern region of the current Ashless Lands.
Siles froze slightly, thinking to himself that if that were the case… wouldn’t that be near House of Hales?
The ruin of the Sardinian Empire had come about because the mist had directly enveloped Tauohetia, completely destroying the central hub of the empire and triggering an irreversible decline.
That had occurred during the sixth century of the Age of Silence. The subsequent decades had been incredibly chaotic times for the residents living within the former territories of the Sardinian Empire.
The Sardinian Empire had fractured into numerous small principalities, which then waged war against one another, and many of them were subsequently swallowed up by the encroaching mist as well. Those days had been marked by widespread misery, starvation, and death.
It was only with the emergence of Antinam that this tragic situation was temporarily brought to an end.
Therefore, Siles could understand why the people of this world held such deep adoration and reverence for Antinam. It might not be entirely equivalent to the worship a believer offered to a deity, but it was at least a profound gratitude toward a “good Samaritan” who had extended a helping hand.
Within this copy of The Land Forgotten by the World, Siles spotted illustrations produced by printing techniques that were still highly uncommon in this era. This clearly attested to the value of the book.
At present, however, what Siles cared about more was naturally the before-and-after comparisons of the pictures—the scenes of once-prosperous cities contrasted against the current desolate ruins. The contrast was incredibly stark.
The civilization of this world was once utterly destroyed, Siles reflected.
…Reading this book was truly disheartening. Siles shook his head and put it away after skimming through a small portion. He turned his attention to the newspapers instead. The Ashless Lands naturally collected newspapers from relatively recent dates, originating from many different countries.
These newspapers were placed on the magazine racks in the corridors of each floor. Siles had picked up a few on his way upstairs. He discovered that quite a few of the languages were entirely unrecognizable to him.
He could only select a small, obscure newspaper from the Duchy of Konst, reading it for a moment, and couldn’t help but smile at the trivial matters mentioned within—neighbor disputes, flower acquisitions, rental conflicts.
He reflected that the world was vast beyond measure, simultaneously accommodating both the grand and the microscopic.
He ultimately drifted off to sleep with a relatively peaceful mindset.
The following morning, Siles woke up precisely at six o’clock. He drew back the curtains, greeting the hazy morning light outside the window. He watched the sunrise for a moment, then went to the washroom to clean up.
By the time he had sorted himself out and dressed, a gentle knock sounded on his door.
Siles felt a bit surprised, walking over to open it—and, predictably, found Quinton standing outside.
“Good morning,” Quinton said. “I knew you’d be awake by this time.”
Quinton was wearing a white shirt—which was somewhat unbelievable. He had never seen this fellow wear such attire before. Siles felt that Quinton was the type of man who would find even fastening the buttons on a shirt to be a chore.
Yet he was wearing a white shirt, fashioned similarly to the one Siles had worn yesterday. This caused Siles’s excellent morning mood to be overlaid with a touch of wry amusement.
Quinton held a cup of hot milk, strolling into Siles’s room as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and asked, “Do you need this?”
“Hot milk?”
“Yes. I’ve already eaten breakfast. Perhaps you’ll find a need for this kind of…” Quinton paused to select a word, “beverage.”
His tone carried a hint of disdain, yet it also implied that if Siles wished to drink it, then this item couldn’t quite be considered trash.
Siles remained silent for a moment before reaching out to accept it, saying, “I’ll drink a bit first, then go downstairs to eat—”
He broke off abruptly.
Because Quinton was wearing a shirt and hadn’t bothered to fasten the top two buttons, Siles naturally caught sight of his collarbone, as well as—the necklace Quinton wore, which had previously been consistently concealed beneath his collar.
It was a peculiar ornament made of dark metal, roughly the size of a coin, bearing a symbol resembling a ship’s helm—three intersecting lines positioned over a concentric ring.
…That was the amulet symbol of Ligadia, the God of Leaving Home and Journeys.
