Backlund, East Borough, 9 St. Anthony Street.
"Crackle, pop..."
The fire in the hearth had been burning for a while now. Only a few red-hot logs remained inside, crackling and popping as they split apart.
A pure black kitten sat upright in front of the fireplace. Its fur was sleek and glossy, its blue eyes reflecting the firelight.
Its body remained motionless, only its ears twitching constantly like independent creatures in response to the wood's successive sounds.
Although the black cat was very interested in the bright, flickering flames and the crackling logs, it didn't pounce into the fireplace because an extremely tall grate stood between it and the hearth.
Behind the black cat sat a wide sofa, where the room's owner reclined in a relaxed posture.
Winter, a fireplace, a cat, a warm home, a master at rest... these elements combined to form a cozy picture.
That is, if the master in question weren't currently going mad, it could indeed be described that way.
"By the sweat of your brow you will eat your food until you return to the ground."
Silas murmured in a low voice, his pupils dilated.
The blood-red robe on his body trembled with the prayer, rippling outward in layers like water.
"Since from dust you came, to dust you shall return..."
The originally warm living room seemed to grow several degrees colder due to his mad prayer.
"Meow."
The black cat flicked its tail and suddenly turned its head.
In that instant, the blue in its eyes had been completely replaced by pure black.
"Meow~"
As if communicating with something, it called out to the empty air with a solemn expression on its small feline face, its tail swishing back and forth.
Soon, the little black cat seemed to receive an answer. It nimbly got up and ran toward the kitchen.
A few seconds later.
"Squeak, squeak!"
A faint cry of distress sounded from inside the house.
The black cat returned with a trembling gray mouse in its mouth, its tail held high, bouncing along as it ran back.
"Meow~"
It ran to Silas's feet, set down the dead mouse, and looked up with a call, as if showing off or asking for credit.
Unfortunately, Silas was currently immersed in hallucinations and didn't realize his home was being so well guarded.
Fortunately, the little black cat magnanimously forgave him, simply placing the mouse in a conspicuous position on the sofa before running back to observe the fire in the hearth.
"Huh..."
Silas awakened from his hallucination and looked up at the clock hanging on the living room wall, discovering that thirty minutes had passed.
"The frequency and duration of the episodes have decreased."
He thought to himself.
As the potion digested, Silas's state of madness, which bordered on losing control, was gradually improving.
Perhaps once he completely digested the Shepherd potion, he'd gain basic control.
However, even so, when he came into contact with the True Creator's aura or when his emotions became extreme, he'd still easily become crazed and radical...
To truly explain it, his baseline spiritual value was already very low, so after being stimulated, he'd easily teeter on the edge between madness and lucidity.
It doesn't matter, as long as it doesn't interfere with my killing.
Silas thought to himself.
In two more days it would be Monday, time for another Tarot Club meeting.
This time, he planned to have a good chat with The Sun to see if there was any way to get him access to the "Black Knight" potion formula.
"Just offering money definitely won't be enough... and they're in the City of Silver in the Forsaken Land of the Gods, they can't use Loen pounds anyway."
Silas muttered to himself.
"So, trade with beyonder characteristics?"
At most, he only had Sequence 5 characteristics. His beyonder items were about the same level.
If he had to say, the most valuable would be "Agony," which had mutated into white bone.
But Agony's value was too great, and its effects had a unique use for him. He couldn't possibly give it to someone else easily.
If only there were something more suitable...
Silas frowned, thinking.
Speaking of which, that Sequence 5 Beyonder named Sharron he'd encountered had agreed to go to a Fourth Epoch noble tomb of the Amon family.
In a Fourth Epoch tomb, there might be something of high value!
Unfortunately, Sharron had broken the appointment, and the Queen responsible for contact had temporarily left Backlund.
Then I'll set this matter aside for now as a backup option. If the Queen can return in time, I'll try to find Sharron through her.
In the meantime, I can't simply place all my hopes on Sharron and the City of Silver. I need to continue searching for possible avenues myself.
Another possibility would be the Aurora Order.
Although the Aurora Order in Backlund had been destroyed, the false shell was still being preserved by Silas.
With him impersonating Mr. A and flesh puppets posing as servants, the beyonder gatherings organized by Mr. A continued.
Those lower-sequence Beyonders hadn't noticed anything unusual about the host and continued conducting transactions as always.
The gatherings were more useful than he'd imagined.
Through the participants' communications and transactions, he'd gained access to quite a bit of Backlund's underground intelligence as well as certain mystical knowledge.
Sure enough, being the platform is always the most profitable.
Could he disguise himself as Mr. A and apply to the Aurora Order's headquarters for a Sequence 4 potion formula?
The chances were slim, and it was very dangerous.
Never mind whether the Aurora Order's headquarters would agree, if they did agree, what if they were like the Goddess's Church and sent several high-sequence Beyonders to audit him? If he were discovered, that would be disastrous.
Although Silas had decided to clean up the Aurora Order, he also knew that with his current strength, he still couldn't defeat high-sequence powerhouses.
"None of these methods are easy..."
Silas said in a low voice.
"But then again, if it weren't difficult, how would it reflect the preciousness and power of a demigod potion?"
He spoke as if consoling himself, bracing his hands on the sofa to sit up. Suddenly, he felt his palm press against something furry.
"Hmm?"
Silas looked down and picked up a dead mouse from the sofa.
"Luna, was this you?"
He said to the black cat.
"Meow?"
Hearing him raise his voice, the little black cat turned its head and twitched its tail.
It probably still didn't know that "Luna" was its new name.
That's right. After Klein's reminder, Silas realized he hadn't actually given the little black cat a name.
After some thought, considering it was a female kitten, Silas finally named it "Luna."
"You brought the mouse over, didn't you?"
Silas asked again.
"Meow~"
Only then did the black cat Luna fully turn around. It tilted its head at Silas, as if puzzled why he hadn't eaten it yet, wasting its care and attention.
"Well, at least you're helping clear out pests from the house."
Silas stared at the cat for a moment, suddenly realizing the two of them had no way to communicate. He chuckled softly.
"Whoosh!"
Flames ignited in his palm, instantly burning the corpse to ash. Then he stood up.
Time to go check on my flock.