Mystery: The Traveler Who Holds the Star Key

That absurd topic about "dogs with gold trim".

Finally, the curtain fell on Audrey's awkward yet polite smile.

After a brief silence, "the world" at the end of the long table said nothing more.

His lifeless eyes stared directly at the "Hanged Man," and he uttered two things:

"The spinal fluid of the Evil-Striped Black Panther, the marrow crystals of the Spirit Spring."

Alger did not refuse, but cautiously asked about the price.

The first chip "The World" threw out was the demigod recipe of Sequence 4 of the "Sun" pathway.

Alger's fingers tightened on the armrest, but reason prevailed in the end, and he shook his head.

It was too hot for him to handle; he couldn't catch it.

As expected, "World" immediately threw out its second chip.

A secret.

A common-sense secret about "above the sequence" and about what "the true God" is.

This time, Alger did not hesitate.

With the "Fool" as witness, he solemnly nodded and the deal was struck.

Orion sat quietly to the side, watching the two finalize the deal in just a few words.

If all goes well with that so-called "pirate gathering".

Klein has now completely gathered the two main materials for advancing to Sequence 7 "Magician".

……

With the two large transactions finalized, the atmosphere at the gathering finally shifted from tense to relaxed.

The free discussion session then began.

To prove his worth and to pave the way for the upcoming pirate extravaganza, Alger, the "Hanged Man," began to provide an extremely detailed explanation of the situation at sea.

"Currently, there are four pirate kings and seven pirate generals active in the five seas."

Alger is like a living "Book of Storms," ​​speaking at an extremely fast pace:

"Nast, the 'King of the Five Seas,' Bernadette, the 'Mysterious Queen'..."

"And 'Admiral of the Stars' Cattleya, 'Admiral of Hell' Ludwell..."

Those names, along with those of secret organizations such as "The Morse Order" and "The Dawn of Elements," echoed across the long table.

Audrey listened with great interest, as if she were listening to a wonderful collection of chivalric romance novel settings.

however.

For Orion, this period of time was nothing short of mental torture disguised as "popular science."

Listening to the names of those who stirred up trouble on the sea from the political commissar's mouth...

"Admiral of the Stars"... "Lieutenant General of the Iceberg"...

Orian rested his cheek on his hand, his eyes unfocused, and the cute nicknames "Hoshi-chan" and "Ice-chan" automatically popped into his mind.

But that's it.

Faced with that overwhelming "phantom limb pain," the fan filter shattered into pieces.

"A bunch of lunatics fighting for territory inside the washing machine..."

He silently labeled these maritime overlords in his mind.

Orion pressed his hand against his rumbling stomach, his face expressionless, and uttered a soul-searching rant that only those suffering from seasickness could understand:

"Even if you look like an angel, if you're tossed around in the ocean for a year..."

"The brains must have been shaken clean long ago."

He coldly and permanently removed these "wives at sea" from his XP system.

Humans should just stay on land.

We finally waited until the political commissar finished explaining about pirates.

The topic suddenly shifted to the recent series of disembowelment murders in Backlund.

This was originally a serious social issue.

But Derrick, the "Sun" from Silver City, revealed the truth in a calm, almost indifferent tone:

"That is the 'Abyss' pathway, the ascension ritual for Sequence 6 'Demon'."

"In this ritual, they are required to kill people at strict time intervals."

"Furthermore, after each murder, the victim's internal organs must be eaten."

"Eat...the internal organs?"

Audrey's face turned pale instantly, and she almost lost her composure as an "audience member".

Orion's eyebrows twitched violently.

I just mentally vomited seawater, and now this happens again?

He subconsciously thought of the burnt-tasting veal steak from yesterday, and the churning feeling in his stomach instantly intensified.

"Absolutely uncivilized."

Orion frowned slightly, pressing his knuckles against the tip of his nose to suppress the slight physical discomfort.

But in just a moment, that look of disdain cooled into a surgical scrutiny reflected in his monocle.

"Although the ritual is disgusting, it is indeed a destructive art born purely for killing..."

He silently stroked the edge of the bronze table, a collector's fervor surging beneath a layer of rationality:

"What if we strip away the base cost of 'cannibalism,' and only retain that savage power?"

His gaze inadvertently swept over the other people at the long table.

The divine purification of the "Sun," the raging thunder of the "Hanged Man," the soothing comfort of "Justice"...

At this moment, in Orion's eyes, they were no longer just allies.

They are a walking "resource library".

Just wait until the moment of promotion to sequence 6...

As long as that illusory "book" is opened in his spirit...

All these extraordinary glories before our eyes will become inscriptions on the pages of the book that will never fade.

"Beasts grow stronger by devouring flesh and blood."

Orion redefined this evolution in his mind, a faint, civilized, reserved smile curving his lips:

"And all I need to do is 'record'."

"To replicate your most brilliant divinity into my book, making it a collection that I can access at any time... that is true art."

This is the true essence of the "recorder"—

It allows mortals to bypass the ironclad rules of potions and transform the extraordinary abilities of others into their own private arsenal.

When the blank pages of that illusory book were finally filled one by one by the radiance of the twenty-two divine paths...

Those originally mutually exclusive powers, under the permutation and combination of a con artist, will burst forth with unknown miracles that even the gods could not predict, miracles powerful enough to overturn the rules...

However, this is not the end.

As if to test everyone's psychological limits, Little Sun dropped one last bombshell.

He described the Silver City exploration team's recent discovery of a partially destroyed temple.

"There are no statues of gods in the temple."

"There is only one naked, blood-stained male sculpture hanging upside down on a cross."

"That is the 'fallen creator'."

As the Fool revealed the name.

Orion's nonchalant expression vanished instantly.

Although the family's curse originated from the stars.

But this group of lunatics who believe in "the one hanging upside down".

However, they have been mortal enemies of the Abraham family for hundreds of years, tearing at them like mad dogs.

more importantly……

too ugly.

That so-called "divinity" that hangs its intestines and eyeballs out.

For Orion, it was nothing short of a visual assault on the realm of aesthetics.

He pressed down on his monocle, his knuckles turning slightly white from the pressure.

If the ocean only made him seasick, then this thing is "industrial waste" that must be completely eliminated.

For the blood feud of Abraham.

Also for the sake of the world's cityscape.

"alright."

The amount of information had reached the limit that everyone could bear.

Klein calmly withdrew his gaze, his fingers lightly tapping the edge of the table, cutting off the frozen air:

"That concludes today's gathering."

A deep red surged forth.

The light instantly engulfed everything.

The magnificent temple once again fell into its eternal silence.

……

Sunya Sea.

The extinct volcano, like a sleeping behemoth, coldly watches over the lowly ants at its feet.

Alger stood in the shadow of the cliff, the sea breeze making the hem of his clothes flutter.

Even without looking, you can smell the gradually intensifying aroma in the air, a blend of gunpowder, rum, and top-quality spices.

You'll know then—

This is no longer an ordinary market for selling stolen goods.

This is "Under the Throne," where four kings and seven generals gather.

At the dock, the black "Black Death" had just dropped anchor.

The so-called "illness admiral" Tracy only made a brief appearance at the bow of the ship.

"She brought disease...cough cough..."

A reckless bard lay sprawled in the mud, coughing up pinkish-red froth while uttering groans of praise:

"I am indeed sick... She is all I can think about..."

"idiot."

A one-eyed pirate next to him kicked the poet hard, his face full of disdain:

"You're coughing your lungs out, and you're still thinking about that witch? I despise people like you the most..."

Before he could finish speaking...

The one-eyed pirate's gaze inadvertently swept over the beautiful figure at the bow of the ship.

His kicking foot froze in mid-air.

The once fierce one-eyed man instantly lost focus, and a trace of murky liquid even dripped from the corner of his mouth.

"...But she does...look like my deceased first love..."

Alger watched this absurd scene with a blank expression.

These are pirates.

A herd of animals driven by instinct and desire.

One second they were laughing at their own kind for being stupid.

The next second, they rushed to swallow the poison called "Beauty".

He pulled down his hood, turned his back to the group of lustful lunatics, and walked into the deeper, more dangerous shadows of the island.

He has no time to appreciate such a low-level farce.

At that moment, only two things remained in his mind.

First, there was Mr. "High Tower's" playful entrustment.

Secondly, there was Mr. World's gloomy and hoarse demand.

For those two heavy lists of requests.

And even more so for that ticket to the Wind's Chosen One, which might completely change their fate.

Alger pressed down on the magical item in his arms, took a deep breath of the air mixed with the stench, and forcibly suppressed the greed and ambition in his eyes.

Under the terrifying pressure of the coexistence of four kings and seven generals.

All arrogance is a path to death.

He must be like the most patient sea serpent.

They concealed their fangs, avoided their sharp edges, and sought the one and only trading opportunity among the crevices of these behemoths.

As long as we can get the materials.

Whether it's gold, dignity, or temporary compromise, they are all bargaining chips that can be placed on the scales.

Alger hunched over slightly, like an inconspicuous drop of water, silently merging into the chaotic shadows deep within the island…