“What kind of spell was that?” Elias patted the seawater off his collar.
He stared at the empty space where Ms. Stoneheart had vanished, his eyes filled with envy.
“I want one of those too. Making a cool exit anytime, anywhere—it's basically the ultimate life-saving skill.”
Crowley shot him a sidelong glance.
The old man slowly fished out his pipe and tapped it against the sole of his shoe.
He chuckled, his weathered face filled with teasing amusement.
“Scale Seven.”
Elias clicked his tongue.
Elias marveled inwardly.
No wonder the lady had been able to suddenly appear on this ship without anyone noticing.
“As for you, kid, you still have a long way to go.”
The old man put the pipe in his mouth and exhaled a heavy breath, adding,
His cloudy eyes drifted toward the horizon where the sea met the sky.
“Stop daydreaming about reaching the top in a single bound.”
“But how do you know Ms. Stoneheart anyway?”
The old man suddenly turned his head, staring at Elias suspiciously.
The corner of Elias's mouth twitched violently.
Did getting spiritually hijacked across space by her really count as “knowing” each other?
He sighed.
“It's a long story.”
“So...”
Elias decisively cut the topic short and leaned in to ask in a low voice,
“Who is the great existence Ms. Stoneheart mentioned...?”
“Don't ask me,”
Crowley replied grumpily.
“Don't ask about things you shouldn't know.”
“I don't know either.”
The old man turned away righteously, returning his full attention to steering the wheel.
As they spoke, the sky suddenly brightened.
The heavy haze that had blanketed them dissipated without warning, and a ray of dazzling golden sunlight poured down through a rift in the clouds.
Looking up again, Elias saw that the dark clouds that had been snapping at their heels just moments ago were now completely left behind.
Dragging two white trails of spray behind it, the Nightgull surged out of that eerie stretch of sea.
Yet right at that moment, a colossal wave suddenly reared up on the distant horizon.
It was a towering wall of deep blue water that seemed to prop up the heavens, carrying a momentum that could topple mountains and overturn seas. The entire region of water seemed to shudder.
Fortunately, that wall of water was quite far from them, and its immense potential energy quickly dissipated.
Still, they could feel the Nightgull being pushed forward by the swell.
Elias activated his 【Moon Vision】.
From his current perspective, looking toward the direction where the ghost ship had been, two unbelievably massive surges of spirituality clashed in an instant.
That was not energy a living creature should possess.
One mass of spirituality was like a living mountain weighing tens of thousands of tons, while the other was a constantly writhing, viscous black tide.
Even from such a distance, Elias could still see the leaking spiritual power.
Supernatural streams of light raged wildly at the horizon.
His heart was filled with immense shock.
Was this the power of a Scale Seven?
Was this a saint, one of the strongest of humanity?
Reshaping the world at a whim, turning an entire sea into a battlefield to be molded at will.
Compared to such an existence, his own minor supernatural abilities were like a child playing with mud at the feet of a god.
The gap was so vast that it didn't even leave room for despair.
Just as he was thinking this, old Crowley took a drag from his unlit pipe.
Exhaling a non-existent ring of smoke, the old man patted the warm compass.
“Looks like they've engaged.”
“We're temporarily safe.”
Everyone let out a collective sigh of relief.
The sounds of people collapsing onto the deck echoed one after another, and the relief of escaping death filled the air.
Meanwhile, Elias clenched his fists.
Feeling the solid reality in his palms, he sighed deeply in his heart.
A man should aspire to be like this!
He definitely didn't think so just because it looked cool.
It was purely out of a very pragmatic anxiety for survival.
On one hand, he wanted to establish a foothold in this peril-filled world.
Whether it was to protect his original body's family on this continent or to find a way back home, he needed to stay alive and be strong enough.
In this godforsaken place, without strength, you didn't even have the right to be cannon fodder.
On the other hand, there were far too many riddlers around him.
They always liked to speak in half-truths and keep the other half hidden, as if they were doing underground espionage work.
And the root cause of this severe information asymmetry was his current, pathetic strength.
The weak did not deserve to know the truth.
He was absolutely sick of this situation.
Every time something major involving the world line happened, he was kept in the dark like a fool, forced to passively dance to everyone else's tune.
However, increasing his strength was absolutely not something he could rush.
In this world filled with sanity pollution, running too fast often meant losing control was not far away.
Compared to the distant goal of becoming stronger, what puzzled and worried him most right now was Old Ed's situation.
This old spiritual body, who usually chattered non-stop like a broken record, had actually lost connection completely.
Even a saint couldn't perceive his existence. Did this mean the old man had been completely obliterated in the spirit world?
With the perception of a Scale Seven saint, if Old Ed was still in the bracelet, it was absolutely impossible for her to remain unaware.
Because even if they just couldn't connect, there shouldn't be a situation where he couldn't be sensed at all.
Back at the Ascetic Society, when Elias was spiritually hijacked, Ms. Stoneheart had been able to sense the old man.
If he couldn't be sensed, there were only two possibilities: either he had truly vanished completely, or he had been stuffed into some absolute blind spot that even a saint could not reach.
As he thought this, a bright flash of lightning seemed to strike through Elias's mind.
It was as if some crucial details were about to be linked together.
But the inspiration flashed and vanished, far too fast to grasp.
He felt as though he had overlooked something.
A very obvious detail that he had nevertheless ignored.
What could it be?
He fell into deep thought.
Time passed quickly after the Nightgull broke free from the ghost ship.
By dusk, the afterglow of the setting sun painted the sea in a magnificent orange-red.
The group finally arrived at Elias's lighthouse.
Along the way, Elias's dream demon curse flared up again without warning.
However, perhaps because they were getting closer to the lighthouse, the intensity of the hallucination this time was about the same as when he was on the tower.
It only went as far as turning the seabirds flying around into yellow, dragon-like creatures floating in the sky.
In a gloomy sea with a Lovecraftian art style, the sudden appearance of such a child-friendly character created a contrast so jarring that Elias didn't know whether he should lose his spirituality or laugh first.
Still, he quickly weathered this mental pollution.
The Nightgull anchored about a kilometer away from the reef.
Due to the dense underwater reefs nearby, the large ship could not recklessly approach.
The heavy iron anchor splashed into the water, kicking up a spray of deathly white foam.
Crowley, Elias, and Ophelia boarded a small boat together and headed toward the lighthouse.
At this moment, Ophelia was muttering incoherently.
Along the way, she had been harassed by that fellow Polly to the point of a near nervous breakdown.
The creature's constant chatter was comparable to a thousand ducks loudly chanting scriptures in her ears at the same time, and it was all utterly nonsensical drivel.
Now, whenever Ophelia heard any sound resembling a bird's chirp, her body would subconsciously shudder.
Elias shot her a sympathetic look, very wisely choosing not to chime in.
The small boat carved a thin ripple on the calm sea, rowing toward the solitary white structure.
To Elias and Crowley's relief, the tower lamp was bright.
A beam of soft, bright, and stable supernatural light was piercing through the deepening twilight, casting out onto the distant sea.
This indicated that the lamp oil had been replaced at least once over the past two days.
The equipment inside the lighthouse had not shut down.
This also meant that Jack, the unlucky fellow who had been sent to the island earlier, was highly likely still alive.
For that guy to actually survive on the island for two days was nothing short of a miracle.
“Looks like the kid is tougher than I thought,” Crowley chuckled, his rowing strokes becoming significantly lighter and brisker.
Carried by the push of the waves, the small boat finally bumped steadily against the wooden pilings of the crude dock.
It let out a soft thud.
Just as the boat came alongside and Elias was reaching out to grab the mooring rope,
“Damn it!”
“Can you hear me?”
Old Ed's voice echoed in Elias's mind once again.
Elias's hand, still reaching for the rope, froze in midair.
He frantically responded through their spiritual channel in his mind.
“Yes.”
“What on earth happened to you?”
“I don't know!”
The old man's voice sounded incredibly innocent, mixed with a hint of exasperation.
“It's my first time encountering this kind of situation too!”
“Old man,”
Elias replied solemnly.
“I think whatever is going on with your memories might be related to this.”
Rate on N.U.
