The usual mercenary and oily look was completely gone from Old Crowley’s wrinkled face.
He simply sat there in silence.
This sudden gravity made Elias’s eyelids twitch.
Instinct told him this was definitely not a good sign.
When a shameless old rogue suddenly starts discussing the end of the world with you, it usually means things have gotten so big that even he can’t handle them anymore.
“How about...”
In the depths of his mind, Old Ed’s raspy voice rang out softly.
For once, the old man’s tone held a hint of guilt.
“How about we just hide?”
“Find some remote mountain forest where no one lives, or just take a boat to some deserted island in the far ocean.”
“Living under an assumed name is better than staying here as a ticking bomb that could go off at any moment.”
The old man offered a seemingly safe but ultimately useless and outdated suggestion.
Elias sneered inwardly, not even bothering to waste the energy to roll his eyes.
Hide?
Where could he possibly hide?
Elias knew deep down that there was no place in Velen where he could hide in peace.
Even without this dream demon curse that threatened to drag him into nightmarish distortions at any moment, he would still have nowhere to run.
Some things simply couldn't be thought about too deeply.
For example, just now.
The moment they heard the Pendulum had been triggered in Hope County, the first reaction of these two high-level transcendents was to assume the entire county had become a dead city.
It was easy to imagine what kind of terrifying disaster the Pendulum could cause if it were released at full power.
And those secret organizations frantically searching for the Pendulum in the shadows—what terrible things did they intend to do with it once they got their hands on it?
By then, it probably wouldn't be as simple as destroying a single city.
Based on the original host's limited knowledge of this world, Velen was a vast and boundless continent in the eyes of the locals.
But to Elias, who possessed the memories of a modern person, this place looked like an isolated island surrounded by endless mist no matter how he viewed it.
As for what the world beyond the sea was like?
According to the records of the churches and the government, countless fearless adventurers had set out for the distant oceans in the past.
But the reports they brought back spoke only of a desperate void.
Beyond the sea was a vast but desolate world.
No plants.
No animals.
Nothing at all.
If an irreversible, cataclysmic problem occurred on the mainland of Velen, where could he possibly hide?
For a transmigrator like him, who had been inexplicably stuffed into this body, being able to wash his hands of it all and return to his past life—scrolling through his phone and eating hot pot—should have been the best choice.
However, he also knew very well that before he thoroughly understood the many secrets of this world and the truths hidden in the mists of history, he had no right to pursue a return to his original world.
He didn't even know the way home yet.
Moreover, at this critical juncture, he could barely even keep his own life.
“Captain Crowley.”
Elias sighed.
He rubbed his temples tiredly, forcibly suppressing his chaotic thoughts.
He looked up, meeting the old sea dog’s scrutinizing gaze, and the corner of his mouth curved into a somewhat bitter arc.
“Do I even have a choice?” Elias asked back.
His voice was very soft, yet it carried a coldness that seemed to see through everything.
“Even if I showed absolute sincerity right now and handed the Pendulum directly to you, would I really be able to rest easy?”
“As far as I know, the lunatics of the Mist Veil Society have been keeping a close eye on the lighthouses. But what I’ve never understood is...”
Elias leaned forward, a sharp glint flashing in his eyes.
“If the Mist Veil Society and the company are truly in a partnership, then why wouldn't the company’s high command just hand over control of the lighthouses directly to them?”
“Instead, they go to all the trouble of hiring ordinary people like us to be keepers, only to let cultists use us as target practice?”
This completely contradicted the logic of capital operations.
“Even if we don't talk about these long-term conspiracies,” Elias sneered, “would I really be safe just staying on that island that could sink at any moment? Or can you guarantee that I won't be strangled to death by a monster in my dreams in the middle of the night?”
Elias’s series of questions were sharp and pointed, laying the core contradictions directly on the table.
This barrage of questioning plunged Crowley into instant silence.
The old captain smacked his lips, the pipe in his hand trembling slightly, but he couldn't say a single word.
“Actually, you don't need to be so resistant.”
Sophia, sitting to the side, gently set down her crystal glass.
She looked at Elias’s young face, which appeared somewhat pale due to lack of sleep, and spoke in a gentle tone.
“We in the Resurrection Society have no relationship with Wayland Capital. We don't work for them, nor do we need to take orders from those big shots.”
“But he is related to Wayland.”
Elias didn't turn his head, merely pointing the pure silver handle of his cane at Captain Crowley sitting next to him.
Although the Wayland uniform the old man wore was tattered, that emblem was the real deal.
Captain Crowley let out a long sigh.
In all the time Elias had known him, he had never seen such a look of frustration and heaviness on the face of this cunning old man, who was calculated to his very core.
“I am indeed a supply captain for Wayland.”
Old Crowley tapped his pipe against the corner of the table, making a dull thud.
“I can’t deny that. After all, I have to rely on the company’s salary to buy black market rum.”
The old man gave a self-deprecating smile.
“But do you know how many supply ships the massive Wayland Shipping fleet has across the entire sea?”
Without waiting for Elias to answer, Crowley provided it himself: “Twenty-two.”
“A total of twenty-two supply ships, drifting along the major sea routes every day like worker ants.”
The old man looked up, a hint of disdain flashing in his cloudy eyes.
“I’m just one of them. So you don't have to worry at all about how much of a sense of belonging I have toward Wayland.”
Crowley straightened up, his gaze firm.
“On the other hand, my identity as a Resurrectionist...”
The old man patted his chest. “The only reason we are gathered here is to prevent the Mist Veil Society from achieving their mad ambitions.”
“Oh?”
Elias raised an eyebrow, letting out a single syllable filled with doubt.
He truly hadn't expected that this undignified old fellow, Old Crowley, would secretly stand in an alliance absolutely opposed to the Mist Veil Society, playing a marginal role similar to a hero of justice.
It was incredibly jarring.
After all, the first impression this old guy had left on Elias was extremely poor.
Back on the island, Crowley had clearly treated ordinary people like them as disposables and even intended to take back the gun he had issued to him.
A total black-hearted middleman.
But on second thought...
Elias felt a bit guilty and mentally rubbed his nose.
Just this afternoon, he had used the absurd excuse of 'Crowley owing money' to brazenly swindle three hundred gold crowns from that unlucky manager named Marcus.
Counting interest and emotional damages, he had essentially scammed the interest back from the company.
Thus, Elias had always had the fixed impression that Old Crowley was deeply bound to Wayland—they rose and fell together.
As for the idea of this old man secretly resisting the Mist Veil Society or even protecting the world, Elias never would have thought of it in a million years.
“What are you ‘ohing’ about?”
Seeing Elias’s skeptical gaze, Old Crowley immediately felt greatly insulted.
The old man glared with annoyance, his beard practically curling with rage.
“What? Did you think I would actually kill those keepers who tried to run away when we were on the island?”
“I was deliberately scaring you.” Crowley rolled his eyes in irritation. “Besides, none of you keepers could have run away anyway. You should know that better than anyone.”
Elias’s heart skipped a beat at those words.
It was as if a bucket of ice water had been poured over his head; his somewhat wandering thoughts froze instantly.
His eyes widened.
“The dream demon curse?!” Elias blurted out, his voice carrying a hint of terror he couldn't hide.
“Indeed,” Crowley nodded slowly, providing a cruel confirmation.
“It wasn't just me?!”
Elias’s mind turned into a chaotic mess in an instant.
Countless tangled clues frantically intertwined and collided in his head.
“It wasn't a coincidence? It was an inevitability?”
“But... that’s not right!”
He immediately thought of Old Ed, who was currently residing in his mind as an automatic navigator. If every keeper had the curse, what happened with Old Ed back then?
“What about the lighthouse keepers of the past?” Elias followed up urgently.
“As far as I know, Wayland Shipping only took over Moon Bay and all its lighthouses twenty-five years ago. What about the distant past? Did the keepers before Wayland took over not have the dream demon curse?”
He was asking something he already suspected.
“They did,” Crowley answered candidly.
“The curse existed before the company arrived. It is an inherent price of this sea since ancient times.”
“But...”
Old Crowley paused, a chilling glint flashing in his eyes that was enough to make one’s skin crawl.
“After the company took over, they turned it into a means of lowering costs.”
Rate on N.U.
