621 Hanth Island

Ludwig, savoring succulent roasted lamb chops, cast a quick glance at the ancient notebook and the note containing the Love Incantation.

The knowledge and concealed content inscribed on it couldn’t be extracted.

“Alright.” Lumian withdrew his hand, his disappointment minimal.

He had approached Ludwig with the intention that it didn’t harm asking.

Finding nothing else of interest, he settled into the recliner, immersing himself in the warm sunlight. Flipping through the ancient notebook filled with Demon legends,

Lumian found it composed entirely in Highlander. Flores, having only attended elementary grammar school, wouldn’t have comprehended it otherwise.

Reading with enthusiasm, as if engrossed in a gripping novel, Lumian discovered that certain legends surpassed even the thrill of contemporary horror stories, sending shivers down his spine.

Occasionally, incantations emerged, some fabricated by the ignorant and subjected to numerous alterations. Others carried a subtle malevolence, bearing a resemblance to Naboredisley. Lumian refrained from uttering them aloud, silently reciting them instead.

The first day of the Berries’ voyage unfolded in tranquil serenity.

Late at night, Lumian dreamt of enchanting scenes, weaving into blush-inducing stories that heightened his emotions.

Suddenly, Lumian awoke. Sunlight filtered through the window curtains, casting a faint glow.

It was 6 a.m.

Lying in bed, Lumian experienced a sense of loss.

He lacked the endurance of an Ascetic in dreams, causing certain scenes to be unusually poignant.

Phew… Lumian exhaled, emitting a self-deprecating laugh. Almost forgot, this isn’t a boon; it’s a curse.

Reverting to a physical state when Termiboros was newly sealed at 6 a.m. every morning brought benefits like fearlessness of serious injuries, no heed of energy consumption, and automatic healing.

Though thoughts of Cordu’s catastrophe and his sister Aurore haunted him with each reset, the initial pain gradually dulled, becoming a bearable numbness after his psychiatric treatment. Occasionally, he felt a dull ache and emptiness.

Lumian rose from bed and drew open the curtains, revealing two contrasting scenes of the azure sea.

To the right, a crimson sun had just surfaced on the horizon. To the left, fog lingered, and waves surged, shrouding the situation 100 meters away.

Exiting the master bedroom, Lumian noticed that Lugano was already awake, captivated by the seascape.

Lugano grinned sheepishly and replied, “It’s my first time in the Berserk Sea. I’m a little excited and woke up early.”

On the coffee table in the room lay numerous Dutanese books recently purchased by Lumian from Port Colla. Being a primary trading port for the Southern Continent, Port Colla’s citizens had a practical need to learn Dutanese, resulting in a trend. Lumian easily acquired two sets of teaching materials covering elementary, intermediate, and advanced levels, along with practice materials, thanks to various teaching aids and Dutanese instructors. This was a stark contrast to Port Santa, where obtaining a few barely usable books required considerable effort.

Lumian applauded gently.

“Not bad.”

Lugano pointed towards the foggy sea and explained, “Last night, I heard from a sailor on the ship that many vessels attempted to explore the sea in that direction, but they never returned. Occasionally, people would spot one of those ships quietly passing by at night with no lights or anyone on the deck.

“They say it’s the Berserk Sea. Stick to the safe sea route; attempting unknown routes often leads to unknown and irresistible danger.

“See, the sun is rising over there, right? The sea seems calm, but venture beyond the safe route, and we might face a sudden hurricane, a lightning storm, or even get melted by the sun and evaporated. These are tales from sailors; I’m not sure if they’re true.”

Lumian nodded and suggested, “Look into more similar rumors.”

With his employer’s approval, Lugano’s expression brightened, finding a purpose in his work.

The voyage through the Berserk Sea proved relatively uneventful. Lumian, Ludwig, and Lugano managed to avoid causing any disruptions.

Occasionally, they witnessed storms capable of city-wide destruction or forest-like lightning. Sometimes, they noticed the absence of fish throughout the entire sea, creating an eerie silence akin to the legendary Underworld.

Guided by the seasoned captain, first mate, and sailors, the Berries navigated through these regions along the safe sea route.

After a few days, the ocean-venturing steamship reached Hanth Island, the transit port. The crew replenished coal and water, conducted machine maintenance, restocked light beer, and replenished various food supplies over two days.

“There doesn’t seem to be any specialties on this island,” Lugano remarked, consulting the travel guide from Port Colla. “But due to its strategic geographical location and natural deepwater port, it’s one of the main transit ports controlled by the Feynapotter Kingdom.”

Specialties? Does that include Demons? Lumian critiqued silently, producing two gold risots and twirling them in his hand.

“I’m going to try the local self-brewed wine.”

He made his way to the port’s largest bar and ordered a glass of thick, pomegranate-colored local red wine, Paha.

Lumian struck up a conversation with a few patrons near the bar counter, deliberately approaching one with a local accent.

“I met a nice chick,” he said with a sly wink and an ambiguous smile. “We’re going on a date later—on a quiet night. Can you share a few local horror stories? They don’t have to be well-

known, just terrifying enough, preferably with a specific location. For instance, if there’s a horrifying tale about an empty house on a certain street, heh heh, I plan to take her there for our date.”

The local, his beard dampened with ale, set down his oak beer mug and chuckled.

“How devious, but I like you! It’s a battle of wits between men and women. For victory, anything goes!”

After a brief pause, the local suggested, “You can take her on a date at the edge of the forest outside the city. You know, a forest at night is always chilling. Besides, there might be more than one Demon lurking in the woods on Hanth Island.

“As far back as I can remember, the priests have been warning everyone against venturing deep into the forest or even thinking about cutting wood in the middle of the island. There are many hidden dangers.

“As for those who claim to have seen the Demon with their own eyes, it’s said that they all met their demise—for some unknown reason.

“How about that? No woman isn’t afraid of a Demon. Well, except my wife. She’s even scarier than a Demon!”

Have the Demon stories on Hanth Island evolved to such an extent? It resembles the legend of the Montsouris ghost, but encountering a Montsouris ghost does result in the death of an entire family. Hanth Island doesn’t have such an obvious characteristic… Lumian raised his glass of red wine, toasting the local before saying, “Though I’m quite charming, I doubt any chick would be willing to follow me to the edge of the forest outside the city on our first date, especially at night. Even if she’s not afraid of me doing harm, she might worry that I’m a criminal with a penchant for harming young girls. How about this: Is there a legend of a serial killer? Ideally, one that haunts the city.”

Drawing from Aurore’s grimoires and the information gathered in recent months, Lumian discerned that Sequence 9 of the Demon pathway was Criminal, Sequence 8 was Coldblooded, and Sequence 7 was Serial Killer.

The name of Sequence 7, Serial Killer, indicated that Beyonders, regardless of their grasp of the acting method, would actively or passively engage in serial killings.

Although the Demon on Hanth Island had clearly surpassed Sequence 7 and evolved beyond the Serial Killer stage, Lumian wondered whether, as a high-ranking individual who had progressed through the ranks, it retained certain preferences acquired during its Serial Killer phase.

Intelligent beings, be they human or of a certain creature, tended to maintain certain desires if not deliberately restrained or controlled.

Just as humans might occasionally indulge in a drink, Demons might occasionally engage in serial killings.

Moreover, if Naboredisley’s commission wasn’t concocted merely for a verbal agreement, the Demon of Hanth Island or its descendants should be concealed among humans.

The bearded local pondered for a moment before responding, “There haven’t been any serial killers. In a small place like ours, if serial murders were happening, everyone in the city would know.”

He paused, then added, “But what if someone goes missing in the forest outside the city every year? Would that count?”

…

In Trier, Franca, Jenna, and Anthony managed to gather sufficient information about Moran Avigny, the current Minister of Industry.

This information included a color photograph.

In the picture, Moran Avigny displayed a striking resemblance to an Intisian. Despite his age, he exuded an air of elegance.

In his late sixties, his once-black hair had transitioned into a distinguished gray. Refined facial features and dark gray eyes added to his overall presence, with the wrinkles on his face highlighting the passage of time.

“Dark gray eyes are rare in Intis…” Franca sighed.

Mid-sentence, she abruptly halted.

Another individual with dark-gray eyes in Intis crossed her mind—Demoness of Black Clarice.

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