At 10 p.m., the Arrowsfish Bar. Deliberately stepping out after waiting all afternoon without receiving his bounty, Caine circled past Us Kent, only to learn that the procedures had been completed, though the payment would be issued tomorrow morning. In the meantime, he casually mingled with the adventurers' private transactions inside the bar, hoping to spot the master ingredient for the "Secret Companion" potion or any magical items—without success. Returning to his original form, Caine pressed down on his hat, trying to push through the crowd and leave the bar, which was now at its most lively and bustling. At that moment, a series of glances swept over his face. Most of them paused—first startled, then clearly hesitated for two seconds, as if recognizing something familiar. Suddenly, all of them simultaneously withdrew their gaze, stepping back toward areas away from Caine, as though the tide had receded and been parted. They already knew Germán Sparo's appearance and capabilities from newspapers and hearsay, and as more details began circulating among the gathering points of adventurers, pirates, and underworld figures, an increasing number of people gained a clear picture of the situation. Upon learning that, as soon as Germán Sparo discovered "The Speaker" Misor Kin, he had instantly drawn his gun and fired—his actions so sudden and intense—people naturally began to keep their distance from this dangerous figure. Then, Raelf recalled the casual conversations he had shared with Captain Karat during their meeting in the evening, confirming that this seemingly mad adventurer did not harbor any aversion to the "Sea God"—in fact, he had personally witnessed the behind-the-scenes negotiations between the rebels and the "Commander of the Ice Mountain." Perhaps he could be developed into a devoted follower of the "Sea God"... even if he showed no particular interest in the future of the群岛, he might still prove helpful in certain matters. Raelf clasped his hands together, bringing them to his lips in a gesture resembling the sound of a conch shell— one of the prayers offered to the Sea God, Cavitua. Then he rose abruptly, carrying his beer cup toward Germán Sparrow. At that moment, Cline also noticed Raelf's approach and recognized him. That was the devout devotee who had once pledged one-third of his fortune—along with two thousand pounds—to the "Sea God!" The very man he had sent off to manage the children's charity fund, a former pirate now turned merchant! Through the charity fund's news and the consistent prayers he had received, Relf's understanding of the man seemed comprehensive—so it puzzled him why Relf would be reaching out to Gorman Sparrow. Was there a commission? Something the Resistance couldn't manage due to various circumstances? Kline gazed at Relf and slowed his pace. "Mr. Gorman Sparrow?" Relf lifted his beer cup. Kline nodded, maintaining his established persona: "I don't know you." "Ah, the connections between adventurers are always straightforward—often just a single glass of beer," Relf said, pointing toward the bar. "Would you like to have one?" "Sure," Kline replied, quietly holding onto his reservations. Sitting in the corner of the bar, he ordered a South Wylde beer, sipping it while observing Relf without initiating conversation. Being quietly gazed upon by a powerhouse of a pirate general is far from a pleasant experience. Rellf took a sip of beer to steady his tightly绷ened spirit and chuckled: "I've heard of you. Before today's incident, I knew you were a true gentleman—someone who never discriminates against the indigenous people of the colonies." Crawen's mind flashed through a series of lines, ultimately settling on a few that best matched his character: "Let's get to the point." ...Rellf nearly choked, clearing his throat lightly: "It would be my privilege to introduce you to our god—the savior of the archipelago, the beloved of the sea, Kavitova?" "As you know, the sea is vast and the storms are fierce. Even a major figure of four-star rank cannot guarantee overcoming all the challenges and surviving on their own. At such times, we need a deity—one who listens to us, who holds the power over the sea and the storms." "Introduce yourself to me, then let me believe in myself..." Caine controlled a slight tremor at his lips and said, "What I'm more interested in is whether you have any magical items—particularly powerful and offensive ones." Relf smiled sincerely. "We don't have any. 'But as long as you remain devout in your faith in the Sea God, you may one day receive a corresponding blessing.'" "I don't... Don't make promises to me without substance!" Caine felt both exasperated and amused. He thought the conversation had reached its end and, with that, took a long swallow of the remaining half of his Southwyl beer. "I'll consider it." As he was about to leave, the bartender suddenly approached, beaming. "Mr. Gelmann Sparrow, we have a commission here that's specifically looking for you." "What?" Caine glanced at Relf. The latter, courteous and prompt, carried his beer and stepped away from the table. He was already satisfied with today's achievements, since he hadn't expected to transform a wildly adventurous traveler into a devoted follower of "Poseidon" in just one go. His goal had simply been to make the other person aware of such a possibility and to encourage him to actively weigh the pros and cons. Once the quietude returned to the corner of the bar, the bartender promptly smiled and said, "He claims to be a pharmacist you know, and has a task he'd like to entrust to you. If you're interested, you may wait here with us, and we'll contact him as agreed." A pharmacist he knew? The plump Dacwell? The Dacwell who kept a plump, fat owl? What could he possibly have in mind? Saving his teacher, Roy King? That's something I simply can't handle—the risks are simply too high... As the thought flashed through his mind, Caine decided to listen first to what the pharmacist had to offer: "Very well." By nearly 11 o'clock, Caine met the timid, plump pharmacist Dacwell at the third table in the billiards room of the Arrowfish Bar. The other person had replaced their somewhat conspicuous rural healer's robe with a local style—Talabas shirt, wide-legged pants, and a warm brown jacket—while the round-faced owl sat quietly on the right shoulder of Dacwell, its keen eyes fixed on the adventurer across the table. It felt much like the way the "Justice" lady had observed the other members of the Tarot Circle... Perhaps this owl was indeed an extraordinary being—an observer type? Klein formed a judgment in his mind, yet remained composed, speaking in a low, steady tone: "What commission do you have?" "Indeed," the plump apothecary said, his left hand tucked into his pocket, tightly holding the ring box, "I'm about to embark on a journey to another island. I'll probably need three days. For certain reasons, I may face danger—though I might not. In any case, I require a bodyguard, and you are the person I can think of most suited for the task." "You're making it sound as though I'm not actually that impressive, merely that you don't know many people. Isn't it strange—saving the teacher, staying in Bayam, or even leaving to seek allies? Or perhaps we've already rescued her, and the real danger comes from the military's pursuit? While pondering the truth of the matter, Kline calmly asked, 'What level of risk are we facing?' Dakewell had intended to deliver the answer he'd long considered, but hesitated instead, for the situation was indeed perilous—should his stakes prove insufficient, he'd find it hard to convince General Spalro. He feared that, before the crisis reached its nadir, the bodyguards would abandon their resistance. That was precisely why he had insisted on summoning someone strong. Stepping inside, he immediately furrowed his brow, feeling nauseated by the filth and foul odors, nearly turning around and leaving. Holding his ground, he reluctantly closed the door, disdainfully tapping the flush button, while murmuring his complaints about the poor conditions of the divination room. Then, taking small, backward steps, he began the ritual. A while later, Caine returned to table tennis room No. 3 and asked, "Decided?" He had already consulted the gray mist, and found the mission acceptable in terms of risk—he also wanted to leave Baym in the near term. "Three days, 800 pounds, and our friendship, I mean, the friendship between my teacher and his friends," Dacwell said, somewhat uncertain. Caine remained silent for a few seconds, then replied, "Three days, 1,000 pounds." "Also, your organization will help me secure a powerful offensive magical item—I'll pay you in cash at a reasonable price." One thousand pounds—I don't have that much, Dacwell hesitated, adding, "I'll advance 300 pounds, and pay the remainder once we arrive at the destination and find the person I'm looking for." He intended for his teacher's teacher to cover the balance. Caine nodded calmly. "Agreed." Dakwei, the plump physician, instantly exhaled in relief, then smiled with a touch of embarrassment: "Shall I consider the protection to take effect from now on?"