Olarve lies to the northeast of the Rosted Isles, not far by straight-line distance, though the safe channel meanders endlessly, adding hundreds of nautical miles unnecessarily. Originally a pristine island teeming with extraordinary creatures and uninhabited by humans, it became a site of exile for certain offenders after the age of hunting ended, and under the Roon Kingdom's administration, Olarve gradually developed into villages and towns. As the islands further east were discovered and colonized, Olarve's strategic access via the channel and its abundant natural resources attracted a growing number of new settlers, giving rise to a relatively thriving port city. The lighthouse's glow stands out vividly and warmly in the dim light, guiding passenger ships into the harbor and safely mooring them at the quay. "At last, thank you to the Red Moon and to fortune's grace," said the stout apothecary Dacwell, stepping down from the final stair of the gangway and stepping firmly onto the solid concrete ground. To be honest, aside from fate, you're primarily grateful to the patronage of the Fool and the Sea God... Caine held his leather suitcase in one hand and tapped the civil staff in his palm. Dacwell tucked away the box containing the Dice of Probability, then promptly asked the clockmaker, Kanor, for his address, hired a rented carriage, and headed straight to the Saint Delacro Church, entering the grand bell tower that boldly featured red, blue, and yellow tones. Inside the tower, Kanor had a small, private room of his own. Dacwell knocked three times on the door—thud, thud, thud—eager to hand over the items he carried. The brownish wooden door creaked open, and a tall man, slightly hunched, stepped out. He appeared to be in his forties, with no individual facial features standing out, yet the overall composition of his features felt oddly incongruous. Klein merely glanced and immediately noticed that his eyes were at different heights, his nostrils one large and one small, his left facial muscles slightly loose, causing his upper lip to droop slightly, while the right side was the exact opposite. Kanos' legs were clearly unequal in length, one arm thick and the other slender, making him extremely asymmetrical and unattractive. "You two?" the man in the black robe asked, looking at them. "Are you Kanos, the bell-ringer?" the stout pharmacist, Dacwell, asked cautiously. Kanos smiled, one side of his mouth higher than the other. "A man as unattractive as I," he said, "shouldn't have a second like me." "Indeed," Dacwell nodded honestly, then chuckled, "It's clear you have a positive mindset. In fact, for men, appearance isn't all that important—what matters most is strength in performance." Hmph. You haven't seen any true beauty-obsessed ladies, have you? Klein, who had experienced the era of celebrity influencers, couldn't help but sneer beside him. Karno's expression darkened slightly and said, "I don't want to discuss this matter." "You also have issues on your side, don't you? That's fine—I have various potions, and absolutely one of them will cure your condition..." But before Dacwell could finish, Caine stepped forward, blocking half of his body with concern that he might be killed on the spot. Caine spoke in a low tone, "He is a student of Roy King." "I already suspected that—Roy King has described his traits." Karno stepped aside to allow passage, inviting both of them inside. His room was small, featuring only a bed and a cabinet that could serve as a dining table; the bathroom was located on the ground floor of the clock tower. Dacwell produced a ring box and handed it to Karno, smiling warmly, "My teacher has asked me to deliver this to you." Kano glanced at the die and saw that it showed four points facing up. He visibly relaxed and said to Dacwell, "You're not as unreliable as your teacher described. It's clear you haven't tried to activate it—by doing so, you'll awaken it and help it realize it's no longer sealed." "...," the plump pharmacist blushed, speaking honestly. "It's just been relatively quiet lately. It will start moving on its own in about one to two hours. You'd better find a way to reseal it." Kano's face twitched slightly. "Again?" "This—this—I accidentally knocked it to the ground, and then it began to come to life, bit by bit..." Dacwell instinctively glanced toward the owl, Harry, only to find the creature had not entered with them, but instead had stopped outside the clock tower, taking up a watchful stance. Kano's eyes widened noticeably, and his hunched posture nearly straightened. "How did you manage to reach here?" In his view, Roy King, his student, should have been long since played dead by the die. Dak威尔 hurriedly pointed to Germán Sparrow. "Thanks to this gentleman, a seasoned adventurer, he provided the most effective protection and the method for briefly sealing the dice." "What method?" asked the clockmaker, Cano, promptly. "Er, I only have a bit over three hundred pounds, so I've paid that amount upfront—what's left will have to rely on you all..." Kanoe listened silently, then nodded slightly at the corner of his mouth. "I only have a little over one hundred pounds..." Suddenly, the room where the clockman was seated fell silent. The wind seeped through the cracks and brushed gently across the faces of the three of them. Finally, Kanoe spoke again. "Perhaps Mr. Ryochard has it—I'll take you to see him." It seemed they placed considerable trust in them. After all, a member of fate couldn't be compared to "the dice of probability"—if there were any real issues, they would surely have brought the dice along, to avoid the risk of their uniqueness being lost. Klein watched as Kanoe quietly lifted a lantern from the corner of the room. At that moment, he subtly activated his spiritual vision and briefly assessed the man. Upon doing so, Klein nearly raised an eyebrow, as Kanoe's aura displayed a notably unusual hue. His emotional colors were fine, quite normal, but the etheric body representing his physical being seemed less natural—colors like green for the heart, purple for the head, and yellow for the digestive system appeared stitched together, lacking harmony. The same impression held true for Kanow's spirit. Perhaps an internal suturing anomaly? Klein made a preliminary judgment based on his observations and knowledge. Kanow adjusted his lantern, glanced back at the adventurer, Germaine Sparrow, and said with a neutral expression, "I'm very sensitive to clairvoyance. I suspect you've also noticed certain issues. I'm not a naturally born being; I'm a product of the Earth Mother Church's human cultivation program—though, relatively unsuccessful. Therefore, I simply lack that particular ability." The last sentence was addressed to Dacwell. Kanow remained silent, holding the lantern, wearing his black robe, his tall frame slightly bent, moving step by step downward through the dark, quiet tower, relying on the dim glow. Products of the Earth Mother Church's human cultivation? Yet Saint Drac's Church belongs to the Storm Church... Given its relative failure and lack of recognition, why did Kanoe, a traitor, leave the Earth Mother Church to join the School of Life? This makes sense—the Earth Mother Church and the School of Life both master the "Pharmacist" path, so there must be some overlap. But why has the School of Life assigned this seemingly complex individual to serve as a bell-ringer at the Storm Church? A mere identity cover-up, or is there some deeper connection? Kline calmly followed Kanoe, stepping steadily out of the bell tower and around to a nearby stone bridge. As he approached the leftmost arch, Kline suddenly felt a sense of awareness, lifting his gaze toward the slope above. The owl, Hary, flew over and landed on a branch. Crackle! The branch snapped suddenly, and Hary plummeted straight down, only to regain flight and avoid a fall to the ground. Dakwelle was about to speak when Cano offered a low explanation: "Senator Rijod has been injured; his strength is somewhat unsteady. As long as one enters his designated range, they will be touched by misfortune." Cano stopped, then tossed the box containing the dice toward the arch: "Mr. Senator, Roy Kin's student has brought the dice here." "Very good," came a hoarse voice from deep within the shadowed arch. A hand, slightly streaked with silvery scales, reached out from the darkness and gently settled the box that had fallen onto the soil. Then, he opened the box and withdrew the pale white die inside. His other hand, likewise adorned with silvery scales, followed, palm holding a leather item resembling a pipe—its ends joined together—appearing gray-white under the crimson moonlight, bearing intricate symbols and markings, as well as numerous ancient Hermes inscriptions pointing to "Mercury's Serpent," Will Onsight. The "Fate" Senator, Rijord, removed the object, inserted the "Dice of Probability" into it, and then reconnected the ends. By gently reinforcing the seal of fate upon the "Dice of Probability," he kept it in a state of slumber or quiet stillness—indeed, the "Mercury Serpent" Wil. Oncetin had anticipated such an event and had made appropriate preparations. Klein sighed, relieved, and heard Rijord's low, resonant voice say: "I already know of your agreement, Mr. Germaine Sparo. The magical items will be found for you once I recover. As for the 700 pounds—my luck will be added to it immediately. You go to several casinos in Orlavi and play accordingly, and you'll receive your due compensation. Remember, in each casino, do not win more than 200 pounds, and the total across all casinos should not exceed 700 pounds." In other words, you're not even in a position to pay—given your appearance of injury and concealment, it's entirely reasonable that you didn't bring any funds. Klein nodded slightly, almost imperceptibly: "Very well." "He waited for several seconds, feeling nothing," said the "Fate" senator Rijord, exhaling in relief, "You have become lucky enough." Is that so? Kline decided to believe him, didn't disturb Dacwell as he reported to his elders about his teacher's detention, and, according to the clockmaker Cano's recommendation, found the nearest casino and took a seat at a 21 game table. A few minutes later, he emerged from the casino, looking bewildered and dazed. Not only had he not won any money, but he had actually lost a full thirty pounds! Where was the luck? Why should I believe him? That old man is quite unkind... Without hesitation, Kline returned to the stone bridge and approached the arch. "Such quickness! Remarkable fortune!" Rijord chuckled softly, slightly coughing. At that moment, Dacwell and the owl Harry had already found a hotel nearby and settled in. Kline responded evenly: "I lost." "I lost..." Rijord chewed on the word, struggling to find the right words. In the dim, silent environment, a ordinary owl flew past restlessly.