Chapter 279: 55. The Strange Writing on the Ring
“Wait, wait, wait! Don’t say that name!”
As Fisher uttered that name, Emhart’s mouth dropped wide open. Before Fisher could react, Emhart quickly shrank back onto the bookshelf, poking his head out cautiously, his eyes darting around as if afraid a terrifying demon would suddenly appear from somewhere on the ship.
“Is it really that terrifying? Even if it’s a true mythical being, there shouldn’t be a taboo against speaking its name, right?”
Fisher had reasons for saying this because based on his previous experiences, he had only encountered one being with the terrifying power of “speak its name, know of its existence,” and that was the foul serpent, oh no, the “God of Life,” Ramastia.
Even when categorized by the rank of life, Fisher did not believe that Ramastia belonged to the mythical rank; it was very likely that it was an existence at an even higher level than that.
And no matter how powerful Baemon might be, he should still be within the category of mythical beings and incomparable to a deity like Ramastia.
“You have no idea. Baemon is the most bizarre one among all demons. In ancient times, she liked to play various roles to participate in or witness certain historical events. Even the Holy Realm was unable to resist her infiltration to the extent that she successfully entered. Hey, do you think there’s a chance that Jesse is actually Baemon in disguise? No, no, that’s too dangerous; we need to escape quickly!”
Looking at Emhart, who was shivering and feigning death while hiding on the bookshelf, Fisher could roughly guess that he had certainly suffered when captured by Baemon in the Abyss. However, unlike Emhart, he was not worried that Baemon would pay attention to him just because he discovered the method of summoning her.
The reason was quite simple: since Baemon had allowed Emhart to leave, she must not have taken this conscious relic to heart. Now, Emhart’s fear of her stemmed entirely from post-traumatic stress.
“Emhart, calm down. This is just a method used by ancient humans to summon Baemon. We won’t repeat the steps above, and you’ve already memorized the content, so nothing will happen.”
Peeking out slightly from behind the bookshelf, Emhart finally took several deep breaths upon seeing the parchment that Fisher had pinned down under the book cover. He floated back to Fisher’s shoulder, trembling,
“Alright, cough cough. Actually, I’m not afraid of her. I’m just a little worried about your safety. You know, someone special like you is just her type. What if she disguises herself as a beautiful woman to seduce you? You can’t control your lower half, and you’ll definitely fall for her tricks.”
Fisher patted Emhart’s head, interrupting his slander. However, he did not get up; instead, he continued to flip through the “Flying Fish Voyage Log” in his hands.
On the first page after the title page was written all the information about the Flying Fish, including its data, personnel configuration, and so on.
Fisher’s gaze quickly landed on the words “Captain: Jesse.” Next to that line was an already yellowed old photograph of a young man with blonde hair and blue eyes, wearing a standard captain’s uniform from the Nali Exploration Company, looking vibrant and energetic.
Fisher did not show any unexpected expression on his face. He only fixated on the young man’s radiant eyes in the picture. A few seconds later, he continued to flip through several pages, all of which contained stories of the true Captain Jesse’s voyages.
The story recounted a Royal Academy graduate student who was inspired by Captain Blake and decided to abandon his original field of study to contribute to Nali’s exploration efforts at sea. He eagerly joined the exploration company, driven by passion to learn a wealth of navigation knowledge, and received his own ship, the “Flying Fish.”
However, with each successive mission, Captain Jesse gradually became confused. He had witnessed too much bloodshed and plunder on the Southern Continent, and the scattered blood and screams made him reflect on whether his initial goal was really the same as what it had become today.
Captain Jesse was a man with a conscience. He earned a lot of money from sailing but did not abandon his principles for material wealth.
Under the constant reflection on the crimes of exploration, he grew weary of the voyages he had once enjoyed, and began to feel a sense of aversion towards the exploration company he had once viewed as a beacon of hope.
“This is Captain Jesse’s last mission for the exploration company. The Flying Fish is tasked with escorting treasures excavated from the ruins on the Southern Continent back to Nali, including two relics and a large amount of gold coins. Unfortunately, these treasures will never return to Nali. My crew and I have decided to rebel against the exploration company and head in a more eastern direction, abandoning our original course.”
This part was relatively later in the log. The subsequent pages were quite thin, suggesting that they had reached the end of Captain Jesse’s life. A few months after the last record, the captain’s log featured the next entry, which was also the last thing that Captain Jesse wrote:
“Our ship has been wanted by the exploration company. Initially, we intended to take these treasures to the eastern shore of the Western Continent, but their pursuit forces us to abandon that idea. Now we can only head towards the Northern Region; our next stop is Pat Sulshen Island.”
“My crew has developed differing intentions due to the hardships during this period. I can sense their hidden thoughts. I should be careful. I regret telling them where I buried those treasures; I underestimated human greed.”
“Melissa, my darling, I don’t know if I’ll still be alive to see you. I know I’ll never get a chance to say this again, but getting engaged to you was the most right thing I did in my life. I love you, and may the Mother witness my loyalty to you. I’m sorry; I may never return to Nali.”
After that, there was nothing else. Fisher slowly withdrew his gaze from the last passage in the book, then casually tossed the long-dusty volume onto the desk in front of him.
“It seems the crew didn’t discover this log hidden deep in the bookshelf when they killed the captain. That old man doesn’t seem like someone who enjoys reading. Those crew members must have been too busy grabbing treasures to check the bookshelf. Let’s go see what those treasures really look like.”
At that moment, a wave of indistinct magical fluctuations came from the cabin below. Fisher stood up, and a black sword hilt somehow fell into his hand. He gently pushed open the captain’s cabin door and stepped into the moonlight.
The deck was silent as he made his way toward the lower cabin with Emhart.
In the wooden corridor of the lower cabin, magical lights hung, but whether it was due to the passage of time or the instability of the magical runes, the lights flickered, adding an eerie quality to the narrow corridor.
Fisher wandered around the first floor but did not find the figure of the old man impersonating Jesse, so he continued to the lower levels.
As he walked, he observed the state of the walls and railings on either side of the corridor, noticing very evident knife marks and bullet holes. Not far from these marks lay several spots of blood that had dried up and fused with the wood, just as Fisher had seen when he first boarded the ship.
These markings corroborated the story from the captain’s log, illustrating that a mutiny had occurred on the Flying Fish, caused by the treasures on board.
Captain Jesse had decided to flee with the exploration company’s goods due to his awakening conscience, but now it seemed that his crew had not shared such noble sentiments; they were after the gold and jewels from the very start.
Jesse was murdered during the voyage by the crew’s conspiracy, and the remaining crew members fell into discord over the distribution of the treasures, ultimately resulting in a victor who hoarded all the loot.
He should have soared away with the Flying Fish and the treasures aboard, but he did not anticipate being intercepted by a group of unreasonable gangsters at Pat Sulshen Island.
To survive, he hid the treasures on the ship so that the gangsters could not find what they wanted. He lied to Fisher, claiming to be the captain of the Flying Fish to gain sympathy; everything was in service of returning to the ship to reclaim the treasures he had longed for.
As Fisher made his way to the lower levels, behind him, a dark gun barrel had unknowingly been aimed at his back. An aged finger pressed the trigger, but just as he was about to fire, the man in front suddenly turned around, his cold gaze piercing into the old man peeking out from a room.
That glance sent a chill through the old man’s heart; before his brain could react, his finger had already squeezed the trigger.
“Bang!”
The sound of the firearm erupted in the darkness, but a mercury blade, faster than the bullet, extended and sliced through the air, striking the bullet and sending brilliant sparks flying like fireworks in the dark.
Fisher’s body did not move; the fluid blade replaced him and aimed for the old man’s hands.
“Buzz, buzz, buzz!”
The high-speed flowing blade darted out, quickly dancing over the old man’s hand, leaving several deep gashes visible to the bone. Yet even more swiftly than the piercing pain reaching his brain was the increasingly approaching figure of the Nali man.
Is this guy not human?!
“Monster!”
The firearm clattered to the floor, and Fisher had already seized the old man’s neck with one hand, while his right hand had no intention of showing any respect for elder or youth, striking upward from the elbow – knee, elbow to shoulder, and then finally his head.
Fisher’s large hand suddenly twisted, and as he threw the old man away, his limbs fell helplessly to the ground like a toy with its joints disassembled, leaving only the old man’s eyes, filled with terror, fixed on Fisher.
“Misunderstanding, misunderstanding! This is all a misunderstanding! I thought I was being chased by gangsters, so I…”
Fisher slowly retracted the sword hilt into his embrace, glancing around the room, only to see a hidden magic near the window of this guest room. This magic had already been activated by some command and was flickering with a hint of golden light in the illusory space behind the magic, obviously hiding the treasures they had concealed earlier.
Fisher stepped on the old man, a smile on his face that seemed to be both mocking and amused.
“Do you know? Greedy people always rush to expose their flaws. If you had come aboard and done nothing, not tried to open the magic, I might have spent more effort prying the command to activate this magic from your brain.”
“What does it feel like to kill the captain and monopolize the treasures? Now you’ve finally achieved your wish to see what you wanted. Are you satisfied?”
Although Fisher had not held a good opinion of the old man since boarding the ship, after learning about what had transpired aboard and seeing the hidden magic he had revealed, the old man was already a dead man to him. He didn’t care whether to fire or not.
“No, no, how do you know? Listen to me! I had nothing to do with the events on the ship! It was other crew members who acted against the captain; I was just defending myself. You want the treasures from the ship, right? I can give you all the treasures, just let me go, let me off the ship, and everything will be yours!”
“Isn’t that what you wanted? Everyone’s after this, no need to complicate things, right? If you let me go, I can swim back to Pat Sulshen Island as long as…”
Fisher ignored his defenses, slowly raising the fluid blade and aiming it at the old man, who was powerless on the floor.
“Alright, shut up. If you have anything to argue about, wait until you stand before the Mother. By the way, there’s one more thing – Captain Jesse says hello to you.”
“Crack!”
The old man’s pupils dilated; in the next moment, a flash of silver pierced through his neck, cleanly separating his head from his body. Even in death, his hands still clutched tightly to the golden compass on his chest, as if he wanted to completely embed his fingers into the gold.
“Wow, it seems he lost control of his bladder; this is disgusting… Wait, Fisher, can you sail after killing him? Can you get to the Northern Region?”
“This ship is powered by steam; as long as the course is correct, it won’t go wrong. I learned how to operate steam ships at the military academy, and with the magic and your assistance on board, we don’t have to worry about a lack of manpower.”
“I’m just a book! How can I help you sail?”
“There’s bound to be some way to help, Crew member Emhart.”
“…”
Fisher shifted his gaze away from the old man’s corpse and towards the hidden space behind the magic. He approached it and saw the jewelry, gold, and two oddly-shaped artifacts. Besides that, there were also some old documents from the exploration company.
It seemed this magic was originally meant for the captain to store these important documents. Who would have known that Captain Jesse had added a secret compartment behind his bookshelf?
Fisher took out the gold and jewels along with the two artifacts, but the lighting in the room was too dim; the illuminating magic rune seemed to be fading, so he had to leave the gold behind for now. He dragged the old man’s corpse and took the two relics back to the deck.
After tossing the old man’s body into the sea, he returned to Jesse’s bright captain’s cabin and carefully examined the two oddly shaped relics in front of him.
The first item was very recognizable. Though its shape was strange, it exuded a high level of aesthetic appeal, resembling chest armor, very lightweight, and forged from some kind of metal. Fisher felt no weight when he held it, as light as a feather.
“Fisher! This item is a chest piece made by the Holy Spawn. Its effect is just as you think; it’s not only incredibly light but also exceptionally hard. Moreover, this one is of very high quality among holy artifacts. Look, the patterns on it are very even, indicating that the Holy Spawn who forged it was certainly a highly skilled superior craftsman.”
Fisher placed the chest piece against his chest to try it on, only to discover that it could actively adjust its size to fit his body. As soon as he placed the angel chest piece on himself, it adhered tightly to him, as if it had been custom-made for Fisher.
Afterwards, Fisher took it off to experiment with its specific strength. Even striking the surface of the chest piece with all his might left no marks, and adding the fluid sword only resulted in a few slight scuff marks. Clearly, it could withstand physical attacks from levels eight to nine without issue.
Satisfied that he could use it, Fisher put it on under his shirt. After moving around a bit to ensure it was comfortable, he then turned his attention to the next relic.
It was a black ring with no gems embedded, but the band was quite wide, more than double the width of the rings Fisher usually carved magical runes on.
“Emhart, do you recognize this item?”
Fisher inspected the black ring in his hand. Although it had a slight otherworldly sheen typical of relics, it had not yet displayed any effects.
“Uh, I don’t recognize this thing at all. And it looks a bit… rough?”
“Rough?”
Fisher looked at Emhart in surprise. This guy greatly revered the angelic beings and typically wouldn’t speak any disrespectful words about them, yet this relic earned him such an assessment. Fisher couldn’t help but suspect that it might not have been crafted by the angelic race.
Could it be made by Muxi? Or perhaps by other beings who learned the forging skills from the angelic race?
“By the way, the hairpin Jasmine was wearing earlier was also a relic. Compared to this one, which one has better craftsmanship?”
“Uh, I think that one on the whale folk girl’s hair was crafted better.”
“Is that so.”
Fisher stroked his chin thoughtfully and proceeded to test the relic. No matter how he struck it, it showed no response. However, when his magical circuit lit up, the ring suddenly unleashed a faint, dense radiance, and there were no traces of his magic left behind.
This strange discovery piqued Fisher’s curiosity. His experience as a mage gave him a hint about the relic’s purpose.
“I think I know what this thing is for.”
“Huh? What effect does it have?”
Fisher remained silent and took a carving knife from the magical materials. He dipped it in a bit of magic material and began to carve a simple first-tier spell in front of an astonished Emhart.
“Wait, what are you doing?! Randomly carving magic on a relic could lead to its damage…”
“Don’t rush me; let me give it a try.”
Carving a first-tier spell took very little time. He chose a basic light magic spell, “Illumination,” then put the ring on his finger, pointing it at the night sky. The moment his magic activated, the ring erupted with a blinding radiance, many times brighter than usual, almost blinding Emhart, making him want to curse.
“Dear mother, is this a first-tier spell? Why is it so bright? My eyes!”
Fisher completely ignored his complaints. At that moment, he appeared exceedingly ecstatic because Emhart was right; this was far beyond the effect of a first-tier spell—this illumination intensity clearly reached the level of second-tier or even third-tier.
In other words, inscribing spells on this ring could enhance the strength of the etched magic—this was the true effect of this relic!
Fisher looked down at the ring, where the first-tier magic inscription he had just carved was slowly fading. Aside from the lingering echo of world resonance, the ring appeared as if no magic had ever been inscribed on it at all—without any loss, which amazed Fisher.
Had Jesse brought this back to Saint Nali, this item would probably fetch an astronomical price among the mage community.
To think that material loss is a significant problem in the magical world, yet this ring could completely eliminate magical expenditure and even amplify the power of spells—it was practically a relic specifically designed for mages.
Fisher treasured the ring and fitted it onto his hand, feeling a sense of affection for it. However, during the wearing process, he suddenly noticed that the interior of the ring seemed to have carved a line of text, creating a distinct indentation on his skin.
Frowning, he took off the ring and held it up to the room’s light. In that illumination, the characters within the ring slowly revealed themselves.
It was a line of writing that Fisher found both familiar and strange, reading:
“Tangzawa Asuka”
(唐泽明日香)
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(End of this chapter)
