Battlefield of the Gods Ruins.
Silas kept his head lowered, motionless.
Beside him, Anderson maintained the exact same posture.
They hadn't suddenly fallen ill or lost their minds. They were using this method to protect themselves.
"Neighhh!"
A resonant whinny rang out, accompanied by the clattering of hooves and the rumbling of wheels rolling across the ground.
These sounds easily conjured images in Silas's mind of magnificent steeds pulling a golden chariot roaring overhead.
But he didn't dare look up. He didn't dare verify whether his guess was correct.
Because Anderson had warned him that directly looking at that chariot would have extremely dangerous consequences.
Someone on their exploration fleet had tried to do exactly that.
The result? The person was instantly vaporized by sunlight, leaving only a pair of blackened, oily footprints on the deck.
The sunlight suddenly became unbearably intense, causing a burning sensation on their skin.
Then, the brilliance waned from its peak, gradually returning to normal intensity.
Only then did Silas lift his head.
Looking around, there was nothing in the sky. The chariot, along with its steeds, had vanished without a trace.
This godforsaken place is seriously dangerous. I really can't do without a guide who knows the ropes here, he thought.
He didn't know enough about this place.
Without Anderson's warning, he would never have known about this rule and would have been burned to ash long ago just from looking directly at the sun chariot.
So bringing Anderson along was definitely the right call!
After steadying himself, he turned to the hunter beside him who had also lifted his head.
"Continue the ritual."
"...Alright," Anderson replied.
Actually, they had been in the middle of attempting a sacrificial ritual, having Anderson pray to Mr. Fool so He could "bestow" upon them the ship that The Hanged Man had purchased.
Silas had reported this matter to Mr. Fool in advance.
Only after receiving that mysterious entity's approval did he share the corresponding honorific name with Anderson.
Standing before the altar prepared on the beach, Anderson took a deep breath.
Then, in ancient Hermes, he solemnly invoked that name:
"The Fool who doesn't belong to this era..."
At the same time, above the gray fog.
"They actually managed to sacrifice it up here," Klein exclaimed from the heart.
Before him floated a massive sailing ship.
It was a brand-new two-masted vessel, eighteen meters in total length, with solid wooden planks and supple canvas.
Floating on the gray fog, it looked quite impressive.
However, when it came to actually controlling it to cross the ocean, that wasn't such a simple matter.
Klein held a Ship Operation Manual in his hands, flipping through it with considerable interest.
This was something The Hanged Man had compiled based on his own sailing experience.
The content was quite comprehensive: methods for operating the sails, how to turn and change direction, how to identify wind direction and weather, selecting islands, and so on.
Being a captain really isn't easy, Klein thought.
With so much to learn, would Silas really be able to master it all? Besides, sailing ships required multiple people to operate.
They only had two people. How were they going to get this ship moving smoothly?
Still, if he dared to ask for it, he must have a way to solve the problem...
Just then, an illusory, layered voice of prayer echoed in Klein's ears.
He noticed that ripples of light were spreading outward in circles before one of the high-backed chairs. This chair didn't belong to any member of the Tarot Club.
This must be the hunter Silas mentioned, Klein thought with a sense of expectation.
He then extended his spirituality, making contact with that cluster of light.
"Whoosh!"
The instant contact was made, an image of the one praying appeared before him. He saw a golden-haired man chanting before an altar.
He was saying:
"Your faithful believer begs for Your attention;
Begs that You accept his offering;
Begs that You open the gates of Your Kingdom..."
"Creak..."
An illusory gate formed above the gray fog and, at Klein's prompting, slowly began to open.
Meanwhile...
"There's a response! There's actually a response!" Anderson exclaimed in shock, staring at the illusory gate forming before the altar.
The world beyond the gate was indescribable.
He saw deep light and shadow, saw brilliant rays of clarity containing vast knowledge, and even more, he saw the dense gray fog above them all, and the ancient palace overlooking the real world from above the fog.
Such powerful pressure...
Anderson lowered his head amid inexplicable trembling.
This Fool gave him a feeling that was profound and lofty, seemingly no less than that of a true god!
"Hurry up and go through the motions," Silas reminded from the side.
"Huh? Oh..." Anderson snapped back to attention and respectfully raised a stack of bills above his head.
This was money Silas had transferred to The Hanged Man, totaling 3,400 pounds: 3,000 for the ship, 300 in commission, and 100 for supplies.
A suction force came from behind the illusory gate, and the bills were swept up, passing through the gate.
And a moment later...
"Whoosh!"
The already magnificent sacrificial gate suddenly grew even larger, expanding to the size of a warehouse entrance.
A ship's bow slowly emerged from within.
Anderson immediately felt the pressure. A great deal of spirituality was drained from his body in a short time!
"Hold on!" Silas shouted from behind him, rushing toward the altar.
Because what they were transporting this time was truly massive, they hadn't created a wall of spirituality to isolate the inside from the outside.
As Silas ran forward, powerful winds surged around his body. This wind forcefully supported the bottom of the ship.
Anderson watched with burning eyes as the large ship gradually emerged from beyond the gate, great hope rising in his heart.
Finally!
After being trapped on this island for so long, he was finally about to be free!
At a time like this, he didn't need Silas's reminder at all. He summoned all his focus on his own, maintaining full output of his spirituality.
But as the sailing ship revealed more and more of its size, Anderson gradually stopped smiling.
Isn't it a bit too big?
Anderson had originally expected just a small boat for two or three people, enough for them to leave the sea area.
But the sailing ship before him clearly required more than ten people to manage. With a ship this big, how were the two of them supposed to sail it?
And while he was thinking about this, the entire ship had completely emerged from beyond the gate.
Silas had no idea what Anderson was thinking.
He used the wind to support the ship, steadily lowering this brand-new large vessel onto the coastal waters, then boarded the ship.
Mm, it had that new wood smell.
Silas opened the cabin and inspected the interior. He saw stored food and barrels of light beer, along with other supplies.
The remaining 100 pounds had mainly been spent on these things.
The Hanged Man is quite reliable, he thought, picking up the Ship Operation Manual from atop a barrel and flipping through it briefly.
"Stop spacing out. Get on the ship," he called back to Anderson.
Anderson quickly concluded the sacrificial ritual.
After feeling The Fool's power withdraw, he cleaned up the altar and waded through the water to the ship.
"Can we actually sail this thing?" he couldn't help but ask.
"Of course," Silas said, glancing at him with complete confidence.