On the vast, boundless sea.
A cargo ship bearing countless patches and repairs across its hull, its sails worn and somewhat weathered, rose and fell with the undulating waves as it slowly sailed toward the distant port city of Angus, whose outline had gradually become visible on the horizon.
Having been pursued in Clark, Dylan wasn't sure whether he'd been placed on any wanted lists by the local lord there. To be safe, he'd chosen a merchant vessel bound for the kingdom's northernmost port city—a voyage considerably longer than his journey there.
This sea crossing had hardly been smooth sailing.
It wasn't that they'd encountered pirates or deadly fog banks, but rather that the ship's water-conjuring mage had died of old age.
Perhaps to save money, the captain had hired an elderly mage who, despite his advanced years, possessed only second-tier magical abilities. Given his age, his sudden death from natural causes was hardly surprising.
The old mage had passed peacefully, but the entire ship found itself plunged into a freshwater crisis.
The stored clean water wasn't sufficient for the remaining voyage, forcing the captain to consult his charts and make a detour to a desolate island marked as having a freshwater spring.
Misfortunes never come singly—while navigating unfamiliar waters during this detour, the ship's hull struck a reef. Fortunately, the reef wasn't fatal; the sailors desperately plugged leaks and made repairs, managing to prevent the vessel from sinking.
But this series of mishaps had greatly delayed their journey.
As Angus Harbor's silhouette gradually clarified in their vision, everyone aboard—while perhaps not having cheated death, certainly having endured hardship before reaching sweeter times—was filled with jubilation!
Everyone except Dylan.
"Boss? Boss, say something!"
In the cramped cabin quarters, Dylan cradled the corpse of his scout puffshroom, feeling his head throb with pain.
A few days ago, the boss had suddenly fallen silent, and the scout puffshroom had mysteriously lost its mimetic form and gone quiet as well.
Dylan had initially held onto a thread of hope, but within days, the puffshroom's body had withered, blackened, and hardened, emanating an aura of decay. Now it was clear... the thing was thoroughly dead!
What on earth had happened?
Dylan desperately tried to recall the boss's final message before losing contact—
"About to... about to be absorbed!"
Dylan scratched at his increasingly sparse hair. What did this last message from the boss even mean? He had absolutely no idea!
"Calm down, calm down! Think back further..." Dylan struggled to trace back through their earlier conversations.
"Dylan, let me tell you, our dungeon is really entertaining right now—it has everything! Too bad by the time you return, you probably won't see such a spectacular scene. I'll talk more later; I'm going to do some minor maintenance."
Bang!
Dylan's fist slammed hard against the wooden bed frame.
"Boss! What the hell happened to you?!"
The boss's fate was now uncertain, and judging from the scout puffshroom's condition, the situation looked grim. Dylan felt he needed to hurry back as quickly as possible!
Dylan knew his own capabilities—an adventurer who barely scraped the bottom threshold of Gold rank, and only through the boss's enhancements and equipment at that.
If the boss couldn't handle whatever trouble this was, Dylan returning would probably amount to less than cannon fodder.
But... what if? What if he could help somehow?!
The boss had both saved his worthless life and accompanied him in searching for his daughter. Dylan simply couldn't remain indifferent knowing the boss was in trouble.
He had to get back quickly!
The moment the ship docked at Angus Harbor's wharf, before the gangplank was even properly secured, Dylan pushed past the captain and sailors who were still arguing with the port guards over their fees and bribes.
As for the dead scout puffshroom, Dylan could only tearfully commit it to a burial at sea.
After randomly finding a kind-faced dock worker at the harbor to ask for directions, Dylan rushed straight to the local Adventurers' Guild's courier station, only to be met with a firm rejection.
"Silver rank?" Behind the counter, a tall, thin man in guild uniform lazily examined the adventurer's badge Dylan had handed over, not even bothering to lift his eyelids before casually tossing it back. "Sorry, no dice. New regulation—below Gold rank traveling solo, no rentals."
"Why?" Dylan was somewhat stunned. "There was no such rule a few months ago!"
"That's why it's called a 'new' regulation!" The thin man clicked his tongue impatiently and finally deigned to look properly at Dylan. "It's chaos out there lately! What with hunting demon spies and grain shortages, there are more bandits on the roads than wild dogs! If you get robbed and killed traveling alone as a Silver rank, who are we supposed to answer to? Those few copper coins for a deposit—is that enough to compensate for a good horse?"
"Can't you make an exception?" Dylan discretely slid two silver coins across the counter.
The thin man's fingers swept across the surface, and the silver coins vanished with remarkable speed. His expression softened slightly, but his head still shook firmly: "Brother, it's not that I don't want to help you, but the rules are set in stone. Even if you bribe more, no one dares take that risk—our jobs are on the line."
Just as Dylan was about to curse, the thin man leaned forward and lowered his voice: "How about this... In the very back of the stables, there's a chestnut-colored old horse that should be retired to pulling plows by age, but actually still has decent stamina—no problem for long journeys. If you're desperate, go talk to the crippled old man who manages the stables. Six or seven gold coins should be enough to take it. The price is higher than a deposit, sure, but if you resell it later, you won't lose too much."
Having heard this much, Dylan could only nod.
But the problem was... he didn't have that many gold coins!
Throughout the recent journey, all expenses had relied on the scout puffshroom constantly "finding" purses here and there. Now, counting every last coin on his person, he had exactly three gold coins—more than half short of what he needed!
This amount was perfectly sufficient to squeeze into a caravan wagon and slowly make his way back, but that would be far too slow.
"Damn it..." Dylan clutched his empty coin purse, staring toward the stables with his brow furrowed into knots. "Where the hell am I supposed to get money?"
Think, think, Dylan!
What methods for quickly obtaining money had you learned in your forty-plus years of life!
As thoughts churned, the first idea that popped up was: find a hidden demon spy hideout, impersonate an ally, and swindle some operational funds...
The moment this thought surfaced, Dylan gave himself a crisp slap—that wasn't how you committed suicide!
In the end, Dylan tearfully pawned his Phantom Cloak.
Now he had enough money not just for an old horse, but even for a warhorse!
Nevertheless, he still led away that chestnut-colored horse. The thin man hadn't lied—it had a solid frame, gentle eyes, and its four hooves struck the ground with steady strength. Dylan patted its glossy neck, accepting this companion.
Without delay, Dylan hastily prepared some dried provisions and, following the boss's contingency plans, selected four Crimson Reef Fruits with relatively intact surfaces, showing no obvious rot or crushing damage.
After getting everything ready, he sought out the local gang of semi-criminal fishing workers, and amid the clinking of silver coins, a deal was quickly struck.
Before long, an unremarkable small sampan carried Dylan to the outskirts of the city.
What Dylan didn't know was that if he'd been even one day later, he might not have been able to leave at all...
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