Mystery: When the Fool Meets the Masked Fool

Chapter 316 He's a treasure!
Inside an ordinary house in Backlund.

Ince Zangwell was jolted awake from a deep sleep.

Without hesitation or calming down, his first reaction was to check his condition and prevent the quill pen 0-08 from causing him any trouble.

This is something he does every day, because he's just like Martin Cop now, with no idea what stories "0-08" will weave or what surprises it will bring after he falls asleep, or what will happen when he wakes up the next day.

After confirming that he was alright, Ince Zangwell put on his shiny leather boots and stood up.

As expected, he saw "0-08" sitting quietly on the desk, like a very ordinary and common quill pen.

He stayed up all night writing his novel and was now so exhausted that he didn't want to talk to Ince Zangwell at all.

However, it was locked inside a metal box with layers of symbols and magical markings last night.

Ince Zangwell walked over solemnly, grasped "0-08" in one hand and opened the notebook beside him with the other, finding that nearly a page of text had been added:

"Ince Zangwell couldn't recall what he had done last night, but he sensed something was amiss. He tried to communicate through psychic abilities but sadly found himself empty-handed; it seemed that someone equally skilled had disposed of all the clues. He was worried; he didn't know what he had gotten himself into last night."

Ince Zangwell didn't make any pointless attempts because he knew that once he was put in a position, he definitely wouldn't be able to psychic out anything.

He raised his hands, lowered his head, and saw clumps of dried black grime under his fingernails, as if he had dug up tree roots in the garden in the middle of the night.

This made him frown.

"But what he didn't know was that a hunter had already set his sights on him."

"A true hunt is a fight to the death..."

hunter……

Ince Zangwell chuckled.

He has faced far too many mid-to-high sequence hunters.

0-08 suddenly moved and wrote new words in the notebook.

"No, not a hunter."

"He's a wandering knight."

…………

Leonard opened his eyes and found himself no longer in the cemetery, but in another place.

He looked at his hands; the weathering was still there, but it hadn't worsened.

Looking around, I realized I was sitting in a tavern, at a table.

"The end of the world... no, it doesn't seem like it..."

"The end of the world? You were sent here by those clowns?" Leonard looked up, following the voice to the person opposite him. "You suddenly appeared in front of me, I almost shot you."

He was a cowboy covered in tin.

The cowboy, seemingly unafraid of accidentally firing, twirled the pistol in his hand, casually placed it on the table, and looked at Leonard's hands.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Leonard sensed some pressure from the cowboy in front of him, but it wasn't obvious. It seemed the other party meant him no harm.

"I... I think I'm about to lose control." Leonard felt that anyone could see it, and there was nothing to hide, so he casually tossed his hair.

But the cowboy in front of him clearly didn't realize it.

Or perhaps he simply doesn't understand what Leonard meant by "out of control."

"Out of control? Is it some special characteristic of your race? Like the demonic body of the immortal ship?" the cowboy asked with great interest.

"Immortal Boat... I don't know what that is. I'm just a little confused." Leonard didn't know what an Immortal Boat was, and seeing that the other party was confused and out of control, he changed his approach.

"You don't know about the Immortal Boat? Oh, you... this..." The cowboy seemed surprised that Leonard didn't know about the Immortal Boat. "You don't know about the Immortal Boat Alliance?"

Leonard shook his head.

The cowboy, his eyes gleaming like a crosshair, stared at Leonard for a few seconds before nodding and changing the subject. "Fine, if you don't know, forget it." "But, is this what happens when your species gets lost? That's really interesting. But you seem perfectly fine, with all your limbs intact. What's there to be lost about? Are you a stray cat abandoned on the street?" The cowboy seemed quite talkative. He beckoned for a beer Leonard couldn't identify and pushed it towards him.

“No…” Leonard didn’t know how to explain.

He remembered what Serres had said: just let him sleep it off and wake up.

So is this a dream?

"Tell him," the old man's voice suddenly rang in my ears.

Leonard wasn't surprised at all; he was used to it.

Looking at the beer in front of him, Leonard took a small sip without warning. His spirit hadn't given him any warning.

It tasted better than any wine he had ever tasted, but he couldn't quite put his finger on why.

After a half-second pause, Leonard briefly recounted his story to the cowboy in front of him.

The presentation was short, lasting only about ten minutes. Most of the time was spent explaining to the cowboy what potions were and what role-playing was.

"Drinking a potion grants the power to hunt. Heh, I remember the company has something similar. But you can't go far with just that stuff." The cowboy tapped his fingers on the table, clearly uninterested in the potion.

"But you're practically a hunter now. How can you be so fragile? The hunter's will to die never ends until the very end. And you, my precious one, are actually confused?"

"I..." Leonard wanted to explain, but he didn't know how to defend himself.

“You have to take responsibility for yourself; no one can do that for you. If you don’t have a goal, go find one. The universe is so big, and injustice and evil are lurking everywhere. Pick up a weapon, and you can start over anytime.” The cowboy pointed at Leonard.

"Sometimes things are just ridiculously simple, and people don't need to be so clever. It's because you overthink things that you lose control."

“Actually, there’s an old man who keeps saying I’m not smart,” Leonard replied.

"If you're not smart, then don't meddle in the work that smart people should be doing," the cowboy replied bluntly.

"I have a suggestion. You want a goal, right? Well, I'll just give you one, and that'll solve the problem."

"Have you ever heard of the Sea Patrol Knights? I think you're a good fit, why don't you just join us?"

"Sea Patrol Ranger...never heard of it." Leonard shook his head.

“Damn it,” the cowboy said, looking quite annoyed. “Have we been quiet for so long? These kids don’t even recognize us anymore.”

After about ten minutes of conversation, coupled with the various shapes and sizes of creatures around him, Leonard had a rough idea of ​​what was going on. This was a place completely different from Earth.

There are no magic potions, only something called "fate".

"So, do the Sea Patrol Rangers have any rules, missions, or beliefs?" Leonard asked curiously.

“We don’t have any of that stuff. Coast Guards don’t need it. We’re together because we share the same principles,” the cowboy replied, sounding somewhat proud.

"We must not bully the weak, nor kill the innocent. These oaths are not lofty beliefs. As patrolling sea knights, we only look at the bottom line."

“This is the most basic human trait…” Leonard believes that this should not be considered a standard.

"That's right, this is the bottom line that no one should ever cross. But there are always parasites who don't understand this."

"Whenever someone tries to trample on it, the [Sea Patrol] will come knocking."

“That sounds good,” Leonard nodded. “I’ll think about it.”

"Are you scared?" the cowboy retorted.

"There's this kind of instinct; some are wanted criminals with a history of killings, while others are cowboys who have never fired a gun. It's not difficult at all."

"That is to fire his precious fire at evil."

The cowboy stood up and extended his hand to Leonard: "Let me introduce myself. My name is Portio. As you can see, I'm a sea patrolman."

P.S.: The question from a couple of days ago (the next person whose destiny aligns with yours) is now obviously answered, isn't it? I really didn't expect anyone to actually guess it.

(End of this chapter)