Mystery: The Witch of Desire

Liviel swallowed hard, reached into her pocket and took out some spiritual powder, sprinkled a small handful in front of her to enhance her invisibility, and then moved toward the bow of the ship.

When she was about twenty steps away from the figure, Livre recognized him.

Amosif, the former chief engineer of the Marlin, who died in battle against pirates.

He appeared again...

After a moment's thought, Livre continued walking and stood beside him.

Amosif seemed unaware of her presence, simply gazing silently at the dark blue sea under the night sky.

After observing for a moment, Livre deliberately revealed herself and quietly spoke:

“We meet again, Mr. Amosif.”

Amosif turned his head to look at Livre, his gray eyebrows twitching slightly:

"It's you. Did you bring those twenty pounds?"

Does he still retain memories of the daytime?

Livre nodded calmly and asked:

"Tell me the location of Port Pennsylvania, okay?"

Asimov chuckled softly:

"I need to get the money first."

Upon hearing this, Livre stopped haggling with the other party. She took out two ten-pound notes from her pocket and handed them to Asimov.

Asimov's expression turned greedy when he saw the banknotes.

He stretched out his aged hand, with bulging veins, and slowly approached Livia.

Slowly, the hand was less than twenty centimeters away from Livr, and it was about to grab the banknotes from her hand.

Just then, Livre's body trembled violently, a chill ran through her, and she received a strong spiritual warning.

She instinctively took two steps back, distancing herself from Asimov.

A hint of doubt appeared on Asimov's aged face:

"What are you doing? Don't you want to give me the money?"

Livre's mind raced. She folded the banknote in half and gently tossed it at Asimov's feet.

"I'm sorry, I'm a very traditional woman and I'm not used to physical contact with men."

"Really? Your demeanor is clearly that of someone who's very outgoing..."

Asimov didn't pay attention, bending down his slightly hunched back to pick up the banknotes at his feet.

However, his hand went straight through the banknote.

Asimov was stunned. His fingers bent repeatedly as he tried to grasp the banknote, but he couldn't reach it.

After several attempts, he looked somewhat confused:

"What's going on..."

Just then, his wrinkled skin began to peel off his body, flying in the air like debris. Soon, his aged face was about to lose its human form and turn into a distorted mess.

Livre stared coldly at Asimov, then continued to back away, one hand behind her back, a chilling black flame rising in her palm.

"By the way, I think I'm already dead."

Asimov seemed to finally remember his predicament, muttering to himself in pain as his body became extremely unsteady.

Livre did not act rashly, but gently guided him:

"You should go back to where you belong and start a new life."

Her words carried a persuasive quality, making them more approachable and believable.

Asimov froze, his collapse halted, and his aged face barely regained some human shape as he murmured blankly:

"I should go back, but where should I go back to..."

Immediately, pain overwhelmed his face like a tidal wave:

"I can't go back!!!"

A piercing scream transformed into a high-frequency sound wave, exploding across the deck! The instant the sound wave swept across, the lookout's searchlight suddenly shone, the blinding beam tearing through the night and precisely illuminating the contorted figure beside the railing. Almost simultaneously, the shrill alarm whistle blared.

Liviel's pupils contracted sharply, and without hesitation, she activated her invisibility ability, her figure blending into the darkness like an ink droplet into water.

With a loud crash, the metal hatch was violently flung open, and several armed crew members rushed onto the deck following the lights and shouts. The chief boatswain, in charge, demanded an explanation:

"What's that noise? Who's there?!"

Under the searchlight, Asimov's mangled body violently vaporized in the beam of light. Desiccated skin flakes scattered like ashes, and his barely formed face twisted and dissolved again under the intense light, emitting inhuman hoarse sounds from his throat.

The bosun, who had been exuding a murderous aura, gasped, his eyes filled with unspeakable shock.

"Chief Engineer? It's Chief Engineer Asimov?!"

Another young crew member staggered back in fright, trembling as he pulled out his whistle and blew it sharply. The piercing whistle tore through the night at sea, and more chaotic footsteps rushed in from the depths of the cabin.

Taking advantage of the chaos, Livre retreated to a window near the cabin and quietly watched the crew confront Asimov.

At that moment, Captain Troy's tall figure appeared at the deck entrance, his crisp uniform casting a long shadow under the searchlight. He pushed aside the crew members blocking his way, his gaze piercing like a hawk's as he stared at the distorted, swirling figure in the beam of light. When he saw the broken, disfigured face, his strong facial features suddenly tightened, and his knuckles clenched into a fist, cracking from the force.

"Asimov..."

His deep voice trembled in the sea breeze, as if an invisible hand had gripped his throat.

Asimov's mangled body emitted a piercing scream in the bright light, his cracked skin peeling away in flakes. His cloudy eyes struggled to move, as if catching a glimpse of Troil, his chapped lips opening and closing in vain:

"Troll, you bastard..."

The call shattered the tense atmosphere on deck. The young crew member collapsed to the ground in terror, the bosun abruptly took a half-step back, his gun trembling violently. Troy, however, stepped forward, his roar carrying a suppressed fear:

"Asimov! You are dead! You died a year ago, under the pirates' gunfire... You can rest in peace!"

As if pierced by this pronouncement, Asimov's spirit let out an even more piercing scream, its body violently trembling, almost completely disintegrating into ashes. Under the beam of the searchlight, extreme pain appeared on its shattered face:

“Dead…dead? No…my son…wedding…money…”

He murmured intermittently, then suddenly, his battered face froze, revealing a desperate rage:

"It was you who killed me..."

"Fire!!!"

With a tense expression, Trol gave the order, and several crew members raised their rifles or revolvers and fired at the bow. Amidst the clattering sounds, volleys of bullets pierced Asimov's spirit and fell into the sea, causing no effect.

However, a surge of water suddenly appeared in Trol's left hand, shooting towards Asimov like a high-pressure water jet. A pale gold talisman was carried in the water and thrown over with the force of the impact.

"Purify!"

Trol chanted in ancient Hermes, and the incantation instantly erupted with blinding light, like miniature fireballs exploding on the deck. The warm, gentle light precisely enveloped Asimov's contorted form. Within the pillar of light, Asimov's spirit violently vaporized, his body peeling away layer by layer like ashes under the light, emitting a hissing, burning sound. His mangled face was completely distorted with pain, and a shrill, inhuman scream escaped his throat.

At the edge of the pillar of light, his disintegrating form suddenly collapsed, turning into a shadowy mass. Like dust whipped up by a gale, it leaped over the railing and plunged into the dark sea, without stirring up a single splash. Only the smell of burning and the rising white smoke remained on the deck.

Troy rushed to the ship's side, his searchlight sweeping wildly across the sea, but there was nothing amidst the rolling waves.

Livre, hidden in the shadows, narrowed her eyes. In her spiritual vision, Asimov's spirit had not dissipated, but had vanished without a trace.

Has Asimov escaped?

Livre watched silently as the crew searched the deck with guns at their sides. The searchlights swept futilely across the rolling sea, revealing nothing but the dark blue waves; there was no trace of Asimov.

After searching for a while, Trol, his face ashen, suddenly turned around, his fists clenched so tightly they cracked.

"Strengthen night patrols! Add two posts to lookout posts!"

He suppressed his voice, his gaze sweeping across the faces of each crew member like a sharp blade:

"Tonight, a small group of pirates climbed onto the deck, but we repelled them. Do you all understand?"

The sailors fell silent, nodded hastily, and quickly dispersed under the captain's cold gaze.

Trol stood alone at the bow, gazing at the deep sea before turning back to the cabin after a long while.

The deck finally quieted down. Livre breathed a sigh of relief, maintained her invisibility, and went to the area where Asimov and the crew were fighting.

Some spiritual energy still lingers here; one chilling energy belongs to Asimov, while the other warm and sacred energy originates from Trol's incantation.

There is no doubt that Trol is an extraordinary being. Judging from the water magic he uses, he is most likely a Sequence 7 'Navigator' of the Sailor pathway. Asimov was also likely an extraordinary being in life, but it is unknown whether his undead form retains his extraordinary characteristics from his previous life.

Asimov seems to harbor hatred towards Trol, claiming that Trol killed him. What exactly happened?

Livre felt a headache coming on and immediately decided to stay out of it. As long as Asimov's ghost didn't come looking for her, she would pretend she knew nothing about it. As for the location of Pensie Harbor, she would rely on the Hanged Man's investigation.

According to the established voyage schedule, the Gunfish will dock at Damir Port in two days. At that time, Liver will disembark and transfer to another ship from Damir Port to Bayam, away from this passenger ship tainted by trouble.

As Liviel pondered this, she climbed out of the window into the hallway and returned to her room.

Inside the captain's cabin, Trol frowned, his expression grim.

He sat quietly in his chair for a few minutes, lost in thought, then took out a pen and paper and wrote a short letter:

"The situation has changed. Lieutenant General Iceberg's subordinate, Flame Danitz, has boarded the Marlin; in addition, there are undead appearing on board. Please plan ahead in case of unforeseen circumstances."

He folded the letter in half, took out candles, essential oils, a spiritual dagger, and other items, and began to set up the ritual.

After the arrangements were complete, he lit the candles and recited in Hermes:

"I."

"Summoned in my name."

"A spirit that wanders in the void, a spirit creature that can be enslaved, a messenger belonging exclusively to Tracy, who is afflicted with disease."

……

The next morning.

Livre, who was dining in the restaurant, appeared perfectly normal, as if she knew nothing of the commotion on the Marlin the previous night.

At this moment, Danitz carried his tray to the seat opposite her and lowered his voice, saying:

"Miss Monroe, have you heard? Last night, pirates boarded the ship in small boats, but the crew chased them away."

Livre feigned fear and nodded, saying:

"I've heard about it. It's terrifying. I can't believe the pirates are so rampant so soon after we left the coastal waters."

Looking at Livr's pitiful expression, Danitz couldn't help but feel a strong urge to protect her and to show off.

He leaned forward and said in an even softer voice:

"However, in my opinion, those who boarded the ship last night were probably not pirates, or rather, not just ordinary pirates."

Oh? Danitz sensed the spiritual fluctuations from last night's battle?

Livre asked calmly:

"How is this going?"

Danitz's expression was somewhat complicated, as if he had a lot of secrets he couldn't tell.

After thinking for a few seconds, he spoke:

“Miss Monroe, I’m not exaggerating, but you’d better move back to the room opposite mine. That way, if anything happens, I’ll be able to protect you in time. To be honest, our journey might not be peaceful.”

You actually care about me, huh?

Liviel felt a slight warmth in her heart, but she didn't want to get too involved with Danitz, lest she attract Trol's attention. After all, Danitz was a pirate with a bounty on his head.

She smiled and declined:

"Never mind, I've already fallen in love with the feeling of first class."

Ha! Women who crave pleasure!

Danitz cursed inwardly, scratched his head, and hesitated.

After a long pause, he finally spoke with a resolute air:

"Are there servants' quarters in the first-class cabins? I can stay in the servants' quarters. Don't worry, I won't do anything strange. I just want to ensure your safety!"

The servants' quarters... really didn't have to go this far...

Livre was both amused and exasperated. After thinking it over, she decided to tell Danitz to give up on the idea.

A sly glint appeared in her eyes as she teased: