At first, the song sounded melodious, but upon closer listening, it carried a sickeningly viscous quality, as if wet, slippery seaweed were coiling around one's ankles and relentlessly creeping upward.
It didn't enter through the ears; instead, it felt like countless invisible, cold threads boring directly into the mind, attempting to peel away reason and emotion layer by layer.
In an instant, a truly absurd thought even flashed through Klein's mind—to abandon all resistance and cast himself into the sea, where the ultimate secrets of the magic he sought resided.
However, the moment this thought appeared, it was instantly snuffed out by his powerful mental strength.
Inside the room, the previously peaceful atmosphere was instantly shattered.
The moment the song pierced her mind, Nelisa gripped her skirt, the expensive, silky fabric crushed into an irreparable mess of wrinkles between her fingers, her knuckles turning white from the strain.
The blood drained from her face, which usually wore a composed smile, leaving behind only a translucent, deathly pallor.
However, just before those sharp eyes could be consumed by fear, a flicker of faint blue light flashed deep within them.
That faint light acted like a cold sedative, instantly smoothing over her outward panic. She loosened her fingers, letting the wrinkled hem of her skirt fall.
"This song..." She exhaled a breath of turbid air, her voice low like a mumble, yet carrying an undeniable tremor. "It still came."
The movements of the guards were as swift as specters, completing their defensive positions the moment Nelisa finished speaking.
There were no redundant orders, only muscle memory formed through long-term training.
Clang—with the low hiss of metal on metal, two scimitars slid an inch out of their sheaths, their blades flowing with an ominous blood-red light as if they had drunk their fill of the moonlight.
Their footsteps crossed silently, instantly forming a stable triangular formation that kept Nelisa firmly protected at its safe core.
At the same time, the silver runic plates hanging from their waists glowed with a faint light, and three points of glimmer traced invisible lines in the air, expanding into an almost transparent ripple of energy that undulated like water, faintly isolating the viscous song and the blood-red moonlight.
Ophelia stood by the window, motionless.
Her golden hair fluttered slightly in the sea breeze squeezing through the window gaps, a breeze that carried a metallic scent of rust and blood.
The song's influence on her was the most direct. Her left arm, corrupted by the power of sea monsters, was now pulsing with waves of searing pain, as if pressed by a branding iron. The veins beneath the skin bulged slightly, coming alive like black insects, writhing frantically.
Even more terrifyingly, deep within her soul, she felt a dark, degenerate sense of kinship with the song, as if it were a call from the same source.
But her expression didn't change in the slightest.
In those golden eyes, there was only a cold stillness, like the sea frozen before a storm.
She simply placed her right hand on the hilt of her knight's sword. Her well-defined fingers were the strongest lock, pinning down all the restlessness, madness, and that inappropriate sense of kinship beneath the scabbard.
She noticed Klein approaching. Without turning back, she confirmed his position with a glance from the corner of her eye, which made him feel at ease.
Klein stood by Ophelia's side, his brows furrowed tightly.
As a mage, he was far more sensitive to this level of mental erosion than ordinary people.
In his perception, the song transformed into twisted, sinister runes, attempting to pry open his mental barriers at every turn.
This was no longer simple mental magic; it was more like an instinctual talent originating from an ancient creature.
It didn't attack directly; it induced. It was like the most cunning devil, whispering in your ear, promising your deepest desires, amplifying the fears you least wanted to face, and recreating the longings you couldn't let go of, then waiting for you to open your own mind and be completely consumed by your inner demons.
Klein silently circulated his mental power, constructing a sturdy arcane barrier in his mind to isolate the seductive sounds that still tried to penetrate.
Only after doing this did he turn his gaze toward the sky.
The blood moon hung in the night sky, disproportionately large, carrying a suffocating sense of oppression.
It was no longer a distant celestial body; it was more like a massive, malicious eye looking down upon Silver Scale Harbor.
Viscous, crimson light flowed down, shrouding the entire harbor in an ominous scarlet. Even the shadows cast by the window onto the floor were distorted into grotesque shapes.
The sea churned, no longer with normal tides, but with a morbid, manic spasm.
Klein stared at that strange full moon. A strong sense of incongruity swirled in his heart, refusing to dissipate.
Something is wrong. Something must be wrong.
The intrusion of the song continued, but he forced himself to calm down and re-evaluate all the chaotic clues in his mind.
The song, the blood moon, the crazed sailors, the missing ships...
And...
A name exploded in his mind like a clap of thunder.
Bernhaveis.
The man sent to investigate the Silver Scale Chamber of Commerce.
That loyal subordinate.
Klein had only decided to set out for Silver Scale Harbor after receiving news of Bernhaveis's disappearance.
And in that news, there was a key detail that seemed incredibly glaring at this moment.
Bernhaveis had disappeared on a night of the full moon.
Klein's brain began to race, his memory rewinding like a tape.
He had set out from his territory and traveled to Silver Scale Harbor.
On the way, he had spent three days and nights. After arriving at Silver Scale Harbor, this was the second night he had spent here.
In other words, five whole days had passed since the night of the full moon when Bernhaveis disappeared.
Five days...
According to the celestial laws of any world, the moon in the sky should have long since transitioned from a full state to having a visible defect.
It should be a gibbous moon, absolutely not this flawless, plump circle that looked as if it were about to drip blood!
Furthermore...
He clearly remembered that last night, the moon he and Ophelia saw over the sea was also nearly full.
And today, it had become completely full.
Becoming a sinister full moon soaked in blood.
Rate on N.U.
