After a moment's thought, without any sense of imminent danger, Klein set aside the slender blood crystal and then bent down again to examine Gilsheas, now half-headed and demonized. "I don't know if I'll be able to secure the reward at all, or even how much—I simply don't know who the military liaison people are here. Should I send a telegram to Us. Kent? With the round trip time plus the time needed for remote operations, it'll take at least three or four days, and I'll have to leave tomorrow. Plus, I'll certainly need to pay my intermediaries a good fee," he mumbled, walking over to one side and picking up the silk hat, clearly scorched at the edges, which he then placed on his head. Then, dragging the heavy, imposing demon body, he moved step by step to the door and opened it. A gust of wind rushed in, instantly disrupting the quiet within the room. Klein pressed his fingers together to cut off the "spirit thread," and then continued dragging the monstrous demon corpse through the corridor and down the stairs to the first floor. At this point, the bar was nearly empty, tables overturned, chairs scattered, and the scene a mess. Kline entered the hall through a severely damaged staircase, surveyed the room, and spotted the owner hunched over behind the bar, looking worried—his hired bodyguards had dwindled to a few, now scattered throughout the space. Tic, tic, tic... Kline walked steadily forward, and the bodies of the demons behind him knocked over several tables and chairs. "Wh-what do you want?" the owner asked, stepping back and speaking in a strained voice. His bodyguards gathered nervously around him, their eyes darting here and there, their bodies oriented in different directions, as if any sudden incident would send them sprinting for safety. Kline stopped, pushing the body of Gilsheias ahead of him. Then, in a low, steady tone, he said: "Can you take the reward on behalf of the company?" The owner paused, his gaze instinctively dropping to the massive demon body still wrapped in lingering blue flames. He and his bodyguards simultaneously inhaled a sharp breath, feeling as though they were no longer part of the real world. After all, this was truly a demon! It differed only in the absence of the curved goat horns described in church texts and legendary tales. For ordinary people living in the Pirate's Paradise, witnessing supernatural phenomena was no rare occurrence—indeed, their awareness far surpassed that of the inhabitants of the regions west of Orlavi and the native populations of the kingdom. Yet, even among the bar owner and his guards, no one had ever seen a genuine demon, and many doubted it was merely a smear campaign by the Church against unofficial marvels. The owner struggled to shift his gaze, turning instead to the adventurer, whose clothes were tattered and expression stern, and said, "Yes, they should be able to verify that it is Gilsheias." "Is it Gilsheias?" asked Kren, silently nodding in relief. The boss paused for two seconds, then managed a smile filled with hesitation: "But we won't be able to secure the full amount, as you know, some expenses are necessary—roughly 30%. Otherwise, you'd have to wait a long time. 9,500 pounds isn't a small sum, especially for Port Toscana. At least a week, and that's only because pirates are frequent visitors here, and adventurers regularly receive rewards, so we always maintain a substantial reserve. On Oravai Island, or in other places, it might take two weeks, or even a month." Indeed, 9,500 pounds wasn't a small sum—Klein remembered clearly from when he was in Tingenthal, where the Night Watch team's monthly budget had only amounted to 1,000 pounds, shared between the church and the police departments. He thought for a moment, then turned to the bar owner and asked: "Do you know me?" "Yes, I do," the owner replied promptly. Klein glanced at everyone in the room and continued: "Can you find out where I'm staying?" "Certainly, certainly." "The boss wouldn't lie. Cain nodded, speaking plainly: "Bring the reward of 6,000 pounds by noon tomorrow." 6,000 pounds? That's less than 70 percent—short by over 600 pounds... The boss was momentarily stunned, not expecting the adventurous traveler to lower the price so willingly. "Can we manage that?" Cain asked again. The extra 650 pounds was compensation for the bar, given how dire the situation had been there. Still, he knew such a request wouldn't naturally come from the adventurous traveler. He believed the bar owner wasn't particularly charitable and wouldn't willingly hand over any surplus. After thoughtful consideration, the boss replied: "Yes, we can!" Even though the official procedures might take a bit longer, he wasn't concerned—because he intended to borrow part of the funds, combining it with his own savings, to cover the reward that Gelman Sparrow needed. Such a transaction, yielding several hundred pounds at once, was rare. He simply wouldn't let it slip. Klein nodded, said nothing further, turned and walked toward the bar door. As he approached the entrance, he pulled out several bright copper coins from his coat pocket and tossed them onto a nearby, still-standing round table. The coins clinked and rolled to rest, totaling eight pence. Throughout this action, Klein, dressed in his black formal suit, moved without pause or hesitation, and his silhouette soon disappeared behind the door. "What does he mean?" the owner exclaimed, both surprised and puzzled. Most of the bodyguards shared the same expression, shaking their heads in bewilderment, indicating they too did not understand what Germain Spaulo had intended by throwing the coins. The only bodyguard who had been stationed at the entrance furrowed his brow, thoughtfully, and said with some uncertainty: "When he first arrived, he took a cup of beer from someone and threw it to Gilsheis. Was that the beer, including the cup, that he paid for?" The bar fell silent once again. Although the owner and several bodyguards found the explanation hard to accept, they unexpectedly felt it perfectly aligned with the style of the adventurous rogue, Germán Sparrow. Another outfit ruined—nearly nine pounds, that was... Fortunately, this time the income was substantial. Well, a fresh set tomorrow... After turning down a side street, Caine paused, assessing his own condition. He didn’t rush back to his hotel room. First, he followed the information provided by the head of the "New Roon" faction, Mosona, and located a police officer under drug influence who had committed numerous wrongs against the crime family, even fabricating incidents to frame witnesses. Using his spiritual abilities, he confirmed the officer’s guilt, then treated "The Thirsting Hunger" to a truly satisfying meal for the day. After completing this task, Caine took a carriage back to the hotel and entered his room. With a slight arrangement, he used the ritual to bring the "creeping hunger" and the slender blood crystals to the gray mist. Seated at the head of the bronze long table, Caine immediately reached for his gloves and released the soul of the "Priest of Light." This sequence-5 powerhouse was a slender, refined elder with a calm and approachable demeanor, dressed in a simple white clerical robe. He bowed respectfully to the enigmatic presence veiled in the gray mist, expressing his gratitude. Caine gave a gentle nod as a response, then directly materialized a scroll and quill, inscribing the next divinatory phrase: "The 'Sun' pathway's spell formula at sequence 7 or above." Leaning back against the chair, he began to commune through the method of "Dream Divination." The gray-hued heavens soon began to shift, and he saw the "Priest of Light" unfolding a brown vellum sheet in a sunlit study, upon which the formula was written in ancient Fussak: "Sequence 6, 'Notary.'" "Main ingredients: one portion of the crystallized roots and stems of the Elder Tree, five feathers from the Covenant Bird." "Accessory ingredients: 100 milliliters of the sap of the Radiant Covenant Tree, one Golden Sun, one White-Spined Sun, and five drops of Water Fern sap." The scene paused for a few seconds, then the ripples stilled and the image reformed into a luxurious hall adorned with golden statues throughout. Within the hall, a man veiled in a pure, radiant light so bright it made it difficult to look directly at him addressed the half-century-old elder below: "This is the elixir formula of the 'Custodian of Light.' Remember: drive away darkness, and praise the Sun." The elder responded with enthusiasm, unfolding the ancient sheepskin scroll in his hands: "Sequence 5, 'Custodian of Light.' "Main ingredients: the crimson crown of the King of Dawn Chickens, one piece of pure White Radiant Stone. "Accessory ingredients: 5 grams of rosemary, 7 drops of Golden Hand Citrus sap, 10 milliliters of Rock Water, and 60 milliliters of the blood of "Rite: In the pure darkness, bury yourself completely in ice that normally does not melt, then consume the magic potion." The scene faded quickly, with no further content. Kline found this entirely unsurprising—he was well aware that when it came to the domain of the half-gods, the seven churches often provided the potion and the rite directly, without sharing the exact recipes. By this time, the figure of the "Priest of Light" had already largely dissipated due to the intense spiritual communion. His expression of pain softened, his head lifted, and his arms extended outward, forming a gesture of embracing the sunlight. "Praise the Sun!" the "Priest of Light" closed his eyes and spoke with devotion. That was his final utterance; his spiritual form swiftly dissolved and faded, sinking into the gray mist and vanishing completely. A devoted follower... Kline murmured this assessment, then quickly recalled the vision from his dream and transcribed the recipe. One of the primary materials of the Notary is the crystallized rootstock of the Elder Tree... I remember that the "Psychiatrist" potion prescribed to the "Justice" lady requires the fruit of the Elder Tree... Thus, it seems quite possible that the "Audience" and the "Sun" could exchange places at a higher sequence. The ritual of the "Priest of Light" poses a difficulty for ordinary people in finding ice blocks that normally do not melt, whereas the smaller "Sun" is different—persons alive in the "Abandoned by the Gods" region, existing in pure darkness, might vanish entirely, requiring a means to circumvent this. Is it the duty to dispel darkness and praise the Sun? Klein pondered, then picked up the slender, crystallized blood extracted from within Gilsheas. After a few seconds of contemplation, he wrote down the corresponding divinatory phrase with care: "Its origin." Holding both the object and the paper, Klein silently repeated the phrase once more and entered the dream. He saw the great ship, its bow and stern high and arched, the "Ship of Finality," rising against the gray, misty world, and saw Gilshias climbing the soft ladder up to the deck. As soon as the "Desire Apostle" set his feet firmly upon the deck, a thick black mist seeped out from the seams, filling the air with a scent of decay and corruption, completely enveloping Gilshias and sapping the luminous glow from every item on him—including himself. The mist rapidly contracted, rushing into his chest, turning red, as though stained with blood. In the end, everything returned to normal, and Gilshias knelt on one knee, facing the deck, saying: "Your will is my will, great Ship of Finality!" The scene then shattered, and Caine opened his eyes. He sat up, gazing at the slender blood crystal, silently murmuring to himself: "Is the Ship of Finality alive? A seal that possesses the very nature of life?" "This crystal is the source of its control over the crew, and it has strong contaminating properties—so, do less-robust magical items get corroded?" PS: Checked the monthly pass—almost out! Will be posting an early update tonight!