The sorcerer... Caine suddenly woke up from his dream, opening his eyes to behold the deep night. It wasn't quite noon yet, and it was still dangerous... He mumbled this to himself and was about to drift back to sleep. At that moment, he finally remembered that he had left behind that perilous sea region. After dark, he no longer needed to stay awake or risk being completely lost, vanishing entirely. "Ah, this steady, peaceful setting is indeed preferable! To be honest, the idea that once it gets dark and you don't sleep, you'll mysteriously disappear—well, that's a good way to scare children into staying up. I remember being frightened by that quite often as a child." Caine turned over, sat up, and walked over to his desk, pouring himself a glass of water. He calmed down a bit, belched softly and took a sip of water, gradually regaining his ability to think: "Chalatu is truly gone mad... what has befallen him, or what exactly is wrong? 'The Arcane Magician,' that's the title in Sequence 4—does the Path of the Seer emphasize words like 'arcana,' 'craftiness,' 'pranks,' 'unusual,' or simply boil it down to 'strange'? Yes, figures like the Clown, the Magician, the Faceless Man, and the Master of Mystical Dancers all evoke that sense of strangeness. The Seer seems an exception, though, in others' eyes, the Seer's style can also be quite eerie and even terrifying. That's why Chalatu said destiny isn't the Seer's primary domain. Moreover, it's clearly evident that the Seers of this path will lean more toward spellcasters. "According to Will O'Ceintin, there are only three ways to obtain the 'Sorcerer's' potion formula: first, visit the Monastery and seek out the mad Charathus; second, journey to the ancestral treasure of the Antigonous family at the summit of the Hornachis Mountains; third, secure it within the Church itself—for instance, the Antigonous family's notes might very well contain the relevant recipe. "Yet all three paths are increasingly perilous. As described by Emperor Roscel, Charathus was once a Sequence 2 'Miracle-Worker,' a true angel, and may have even advanced to Sequence 1, standing on par with or slightly below the Angel Kings. Though now mad—no, He, the One—has lost his faculties, he is likely even more formidable. With no room for persuasion or deception, he can only be met with sheer strength. Even with the assistance of Mr. Azk and his colleagues, I would still not stand a chance against Charathus." "Heh, unless we wait until Will Aonseth is born—though if He becomes involved, there's a strong chance that the 'Fate Angel' Ulorius will take notice. As for the treasure at the peak of the Honaquis Mountains—the lingering whispers, the Antigonous family's arrangements, and the ancient tales of the Night Kingdom buried deep in history—all of these make me suspect that this isn't as straightforward as it seems. I'm beginning to think it might be a trap. The Goddess Church? Well, that's even less likely. Not only do they lack angels stationed there, but their sanctuaries are filled with a pile of Level 0 seals. Just in the Bekland diocese, where the Antigonous family's records are kept, there's already a fearsome half-deity. I can't help but recall Mr. A, whose name was once erased like a pencil sketch. And it's very likely that someone high up in the Church of the Night Goddess orchestrated all of this!" A beautiful woman whose eyes lacked spirit... she smiled at me, but she didn't seem to know what it meant. Caine shook his head helplessly, feeling that the most practical course of action right now was clear. He needed to find a half-god within the Monastery who was still reasonably sane. Compared to the one who had gone mad, Chalatou, this would at least allow for communication—perhaps even cooperation. While Caine himself couldn't manage it alone, he could enlist Mr. Azk to assist, and even pay a certain price to secure the intervention of the "Mysterious Queen," Bernadette. For now, that was the only option. Caine quickly shifted his focus to how he could help Anderson Hood lift his curse of misfortune: "It's been over two months now, and I still don't know whether the 'Fate Member' Rijord has left the island of Olav. He hasn't summoned my messenger to inform me of the clues regarding the magical items required. That's not a major issue, though—Kano, the Clockmaker, has surely remained in his post. Through him, I can easily reach out to Rijord." "That's fine. The Life School has never fulfilled their obligations—effectively, they haven't paid the final balance—so let them cover Anderson's transfer costs as a credit, and then I'll draw my fee from them. 'Hmm,' when it comes to powerful artifacts or seals, isn't Anderson's short sword a perfect example? According to the nature of 'The Reaper,' even the items formed after his death count as such. 'Heh,' I'm not some greedy devil—I'll definitely pay Anderson a welcome bonus." …… After dawn, Caine woke up lazily, took his time with his morning routine, and felt this was truly how life should be. *Thud-thud-thud!* The knock interrupted his reflections. No sense of danger, but a clear intuitive sense told Caine that the visitor was Anderson Hood. Indeed, the strongest hunter—how remarkable it was that he had survived thus far… Caine murmured under his breath, composed his expression, and opened the door. Anderson wore a hunting cap he’d apparently found somewhere, smiling warmly and offering a gold coin from Roon: “Your account from yesterday.” Caine took the coin, gave it a casual weight, and said: “Your issue has a solution.” Anderson’s eyes brightened. “What solution?” “You wouldn’t tell me that the answer is simply no solution, would you?” Caine asked. Am I really that kind of person? Do I merely say it’s hopeless, wait to die, and then say goodbye? Klein muttered under his breath, gave the other a cool, indifferent glance, and said, "There's a half-divine adept skilled in fortune-shifting who resides on the island of Orlavi—he owes me a request." "Excellent!" Anderson couldn't hide his delight. "Then, what shall I pay for it?" So thoughtful of him... Klein deliberately paused for two seconds before responding, "I need a magical item with powerful offensive capabilities—do you have any leads on that?" "Should its value exceed the cost of the fortune-shifting ritual, I'll cover the difference." Anderson's brow furrowed slightly, then slowly unfolded, smiling. "Indeed, there's such a magical item that meets your needs—it possesses a potent offensive extraordinary ability, with only mild drawbacks. It's quite easygoing—needs to eat and sleep, has a bit of bad luck, often draws monsters and enemies, occasionally speaks more than necessary, which can be a bit bothersome, well, that's just a joke, I hope." To be honest, my "death short tooth" is exactly the magical item you need—though it's also my only remaining weapon. As for a corresponding clue, I have a rather special revolver that fires bullets with three effects: a weak attack, a lethal strike, and a "slaughter" effect. These bullets can also be combined with different types to create synergistic effects. The downside is that each time you use it, you gain a new vulnerability—such as fear of light, fear of ships, fear of dogs—and this vulnerability lasts for six hours. If you simply carry the revolver with you, the downside is minimal—mainly that you'll feel slightly thirsty, which is quite manageable. Had the revolver's unique qualities not overlapped with my own abilities and the other magical items I already possess, I would have definitely purchased it at the seller's asking price of just 9,000 pounds! So, how about a total compensation of 1,500 pounds plus the clue for the revolver? "It sounds quite suitable and aligns well with my fighting style... Kline didn't immediately agree, but asked, "1,500 pounds?" "Ha ha! Yesterday, I spoke to over a dozen pirates, and they were all remarkably generous—either donating their entire wallets to me or lending me their unique traits and even their heads. Within just one night, I've collected 1,600 pounds. Truly, I'm absolutely delighted by this pirate haven!" Anderson beamed, "I'll need to set aside 100 pounds for the ship tickets to return to the Mist Sea, so I can only pay 1,500 pounds." One night and 1,600 pounds? The pirates of Toskata aren't just numerous—they're valuable, or perhaps even quite wealthy. Kline suddenly decided to stay a few more nights in this port city. It's likely that the easily accessible or readily identifiable targets have already been taken care of by Anderson. Now, doing similar things again will surely be more difficult. He felt a wave of frustration and asked coldly, "When you're doing this in the pirates' paradise, don't you fear retaliation?" "What's there to worry about? Even if they're under the pirates' general, I'm not afraid—honestly, I believe you feel the same. If they're from the Four Kings' ranks, it's not a problem either. We're about to leave, and information takes time to travel. By then, I'll have changed ships and identities so many times, I'll hardly recognize myself!" Anderson said with complete indifference. Why are you cursing yourself again...? Klein glanced at him with a touch of sympathy. "Deal." "Ha! Here's 300 pounds. The remaining 1,200 will come later—once the bounty and character payments arrive. Don't worry, they'll come today, and the amounts won't be large." Anderson pulled out a thick stack of bills, mixed with several hundred from Sule, and handed them to Klein. Klein, mindful of his persona, only roughly counted the cash before slipping it into his wallet and coat pockets, and said with neutral tone, "Go buy two tickets for tomorrow's trip to Orlavi." He didn't specifically ask Anderson to change his appearance, because he believed the man across the table was a seasoned hunter—someone with ample experience. If he weren't experienced and strong, Klein would have sunk him into some sea long ago... He couldn't help muttering a quiet critique in his mind. "Certainly," Anderson said, pointing to the floor. "Shall we go down for breakfast together? I'll treat." Klein nodded, accepting without hesitation. As they descended to the first floor, they headed toward a table by the window, where a waiter passed by with a white-glazed cup and a spoon. Just as their paths crossed, the waiter's gaze suddenly blurred, and without warning, he picked up the spoon and plunged it straight into Anderson's throat. Though unexpected, Anderson's reaction was far from slow—he immediately leaned back, deflecting the powerful blow. *Bang!* Suddenly, the inn owner fired a shot, aiming at Anderson's body as he was still moving aside. "I... what am I doing..." the owner stammered, speaking in a state of shock and bewilderment after the shot rang out.