Leaving the bar, Andrew paused to think.
...To be safe, I should do some shopping, perhaps some oils for Ritualistic Magic and also some materials to create charms and some tools
To do this, he needed to access a black market, which was quite common in Backlund. In fact, also in the North Borough, there was an abandoned hospital used as a meeting place for Beyonders.
He would have to wait a few hours, but he could easily visit it. Another meeting place was the same building where the Braveheart Bar was located.
However, Andrew tried to avoid that place as much as possible. When he bought the main ingredients for Sequence 8, the man holding the meeting looked at him in a rather...annoying manner, to say the least.
So what should I do?
He would have to take his bike home anyway. He certainly couldn't take it with him.
So, in the end, he focused on what to do on the walk from home, I could try that new bakery!
I also need to bring with me some things…
Nodding in satisfaction, Andrew began to get ready when—
"What a coincidence to find you here, young Locke."
A shiver ran down the student's spine as he recognized the voice.
"I'm glad to see you, Sir."
Andrew gave a short bow to hide his tense smile, Why is the Chancellor here?
Portland Moment seemed to sigh for a moment before continuing, "Sorry for the scare, but I saw you, so I came to greet you."
"Please, Sir, don't worry, it was all my fault."
"Always so tense, huh?"
Finally, the man chuckled like an adult playing with a child.
What's that laugh, old man?
Andrew was quite annoyed by that fact.
"I apologize once again, but you see, I wanted to ask you something. Did you happen to hear or see anything strange?"
Sorry, Bastard
"Hmm, I think I heard something about ghosts... Yes, if I'm not mistaken, it was told to me by Michael Lionheart. May I ask why the interest?"
"Oh, nothing special. For a prestigious university like ours, it's certainly despicable for these rumors to circulate. I wanted to understand the heart of these."
"I understand, but shouldn't this task be up to someone else, Sir? Why you?" Andrew asked after nodding in understanding.
Surely someone with a minor role could do the same.
Portland smiled, "Because of my position, I have to demonstrate a very high level of involvement and concern."
Andrew nodded once again.
He honestly hoped to end the conversation right now.
All his senses told him the man was analyzing him.
The Chancellor's smile grew even wider, "Thank you for the information. Have a good evening."
"Likewise."
Andrew mentally sighed in relief. However, the moment he turned around—
"Oh! Sorry for interrupting again. But I noticed you've become friends with Melissa."
Shit
"Melissa?"
Panicked, the boy tried to feign ignorance.
"Melissa Moretti, that girl you just bought a drink to."
Portland seemed too… "normal." With a smile someone would have when talking about ordinary and common things.
But still because of the situation this attitude threw Andrew into panic.
Shit, how long have you been watching me?!
The Chancellor took a few steps forward until his hand touched Andrew's shoulder.
Without a doubt, his heart just skipped a beat.
"You know, she's a very shy girl, so I'm happy she's making new friends. Thank you."
"Y-You're welcome, sir."
Damn it…
Andrew couldn't help but hate this stammering.
After a few taps, the man separated and walked away.
"Please be careful!"
…
I'm screwed...
-----------------
Ahhhhh
Andrew showed clear signs of fatigue as he rested his elbows on the table, completely abandoning any gentlemanly demeanor.
Probably because Melissa didn't want to reveal my identity, the Chancellor chose to follow her... Damn, if I hadn't asked her to come to the Midnight Cat, I would have been safe for a little longer…
He would definitely have some suspicions, but now he's sure I'm the other Beyonder at school!
I hope he doesn't take any action against me...
Meanwhile, he picked up a tart and put it in his mouth.
He was sitting in a bakery called Lily's Bakery, which obviously took its name from the owner.
The pastries weren't expensive and they surely were of a good quality, but certainly no better than those at the nearby bakeries.
In that case—
Why is it so crowded?
Yes, all the tables were occupied, and if Andrew had looked carefully, he would have noticed someone of the upper-middle class.
After trying a few more sweets, he came to a conclusion.
They seem homemade
Perhaps once eaten, they would bring back childhood memories, perhaps of some mother taking cookies out of the oven.
Very fond memories, especially after a war.
This was perhaps why he wasn't drawn to this place in the same way.
No matter how many times he tried, he couldn't remember something like that. He believed his mother had never cooked anything herself. Usually, the food he ate was cooked by a maid or brought in from outside.
Lost in thought, he was surprised when someone stopped beside him.
It was a child of about two or three years old, Woah, he can stand?
Actually, it was more accurate to say that the child was holding onto the table leg as he looked at Andrew.
Raising his eyebrow, Andrew continued to observe him.
Silver hair? It sure is very rare
As he was about to speak, a female voice came out, "Will!"
The woman quickly approached while taking the child in her arms.
"Excuse me, I don't know how he ran away...Will, why?!"
The theoretical mother gave her son a hard look, which was returned with puppy eyes with tears ready to fall.
"Sweets..."
The boy, Will, said as he glanced at me.
"…I could buy you an ice cream, but only if you promise to behave." At the woman's words, Will's eyes made a full turn, becoming full of stars.
Indeed, across the street there was an ice cream shop.
Slowly, the woman set the child down-
-He immediately clung to the table.
Both Andrew and the mother fell silent.
With a trembling smile, the woman opened her mouth, "Will, if you don't come with me, I can't buy you an ice cream. So?"
After these words, she held out her hand.
In response, the child shook his head as he returned his gaze to the innocent student.
The mother, seeing her son, copied the same movement.
…I didn't know I was so popular among mothers and children
Anxious about the attention, Andrew leaned back while offering a friendly smile.
"Forgive me for the inconvenience, Madam. If you like, you can leave your son here under my care while you buy the desired ice cream."
The woman responded with a nervous, tense smile, "Excuse me, young man, but I don't want to bother you."
"No problem", Andrew paused, then continued, shaking his head slowly, "See if you leave him here with me, you are leaving him with all the other customers. No one could harm the boy!"
This includes me!
Looking around, only now, she realized that everyone was staring at her.
Coughing slightly, she replied, "T-Thank you so much, how can I repay you?"
Raising his hand in a calm way, Andrew assumed perfect a stance.
"It's basic courtesy."
"Gehrman Sparrow!"
The child chirped happily at his quote, as the student's perfect stance was shattered.
I didn't think anyone would pick it up. Those books have become so famous…?
Having been one of the first to buy The Adventurer, he hadn't been influenced by its fame or the rumors.
He had bought it purely out of curiosity.
Finally, the woman nodded, greeted her son briefly, and, taking an inelegant and unladylike jog, headed for the ice cream shop.
So the Beyonder could go back to eating his sweets in peace, while watching the child with the corner of his eye.
He certainly didn't want to make small talk with an infant!
But the infant in question had other plans.
"S-Sir, are you a s-student?"
Will asked, struggling with his words.
"Um, yes", Andrew replied with a bit of surprise.
Nodding slightly, the child unhooked his arms from the table leg and began playing with a—
-Piece of paper?
He seemed to have taken it from his pocket.
Shortly, the mother returned to pick up the little rascal with an ice cream in her hand.
The child's face was full of happiness as he held the desired sweet in one hand and the woman's hand in the other.
After thanking Andrew, the woman turned and began tugging at the child.
Believing it was all over, the student dared to relax—
-But.
Suddenly, his senses brought him back to an upright position.
Looking around, he saw Will, who had turned his head and was looking at him with a smirk.
His expression seemed strange and incredibly inappropriate for a child.
As if sure the mother couldn't hear him, he let out a few words.
"Please, Sir, pray to Mr. Fool as soon as possible."
W-What?!
As quickly as it appeared, the child's expression returned to normal as he licked his ice cream.
Trembling, the Beyonder tried to see some reactions from other people but then he noticed something on the ground.
A paper swan.
An origami?
Slowly, he picked up the paper animal and examined it carefully.
The situation was truly becoming worrying.
He couldn't tell if his two recent problems were related. However, this Mr. Fool problem was certainly bad, more than any spirits that might have been present at his school.
Andrew closed his eyes as he tried to think.
He tried to block out any external voices and disturbances, including his own racing heartbeat and sweating.
I don't know for how long, but the Honorific Name of the Fool is present in my head. I know the Spectator Pathway is known for its abilities related to the human mind, so it's the prime suspect.
However, I can't deny the existence of Pathways that can achieve the same result by other means, and if I really have to think of the absurd, even a non-Beyonder using a Mystical Item could do it...
Thinking back to the ice cream child, Andrew felt his headache growing.
The most acceptable idea is that the same person who gave me the Honorific Name also influenced the child to say those words. But in that case, how was he sure we would meet?
Furthermore, I can't rule out the possibility that the child himself is somehow affiliated with the culprit. In that case, perhaps the meeting hadn't been planned beforehand, and the "child" seized the opportunity.
Unless the "mother" is involved or controlled, in which case they could have searched the entire city for me and then made a scene...
Too many options, damn it!
With no way to eliminate some options in favor of others, Andrew chose to change his focus.
If he couldn't understand the process, perhaps he could figure out the identity of the culprits.
Applying Emperor Roselle's razor, I can assume that the child or whoever is controlling him and the person who implanted the Honorific Name in me are, if not the same person, at least members of the same organization. In that case, the only organization I know of associated with that God is His Church.
Do they want to recruit me? It's possible.
Perhaps they use these methods to avoid detection by the Church of the Evernight Goddess and the Church of the Lord of Storms?
Unsure if he had reached the correct conclusion, his digestion was incomplete. However, thanks to careful reasoning, some of the potion had been digested.
After thinking for a while, Andrew gently placed the paper animal in the coat he took from home.
It could bring problems, but also opportunities.
It wouldn't hurt to join some organization, but I don't want to pray to an unknown entity..., After this thought, Andrew decided to wait for other signs to appear before doing anything.
With this thought, it was time to get up from the table.
-----------------
How disgusting!
The interior of the hospital was once brilliant white, but now, after years of neglect and dust, the walls had turned almost gray.
Not as gray as the various rats that lived in the building, obviously.
Ignoring them, Andrew made sure the white mask was properly positioned on his face as he walked through the right corridors.
After many twists and turns, he finally reached the old operating room.
Across from him, a man covered in a black cloak was checking the door.
Seeing him approach, he pulled out several sheets of paper and a pen.
Andrew made sure to write each request on a separate sheet of paper.
He asked for three things in total.
Some oils and materials that couldn't be found on the common market.
The formula for Detective.
And finally, a weapon.
After folding them and placing them in a box with a small slot, Andrew was able to pass through and find a seat.
When the meeting began, the room held about fifty people positioned in a circle around a podium.
A different, larger man, barely covered by his cloak, stepped onto the podium, took the box, and shook it briefly.
Once it was opened, he gestured to another covered figure, who seemed elderly from the way he carried himself, to bring in a chalkboard.
Picking up a sheet of paper at random, he announced the request, which was written down prominently by the elder.
This continued for a while until the box was truly empty.
Raising his voice, he said, "The answers can begin!"
A few people stood up and, taking the offered paper and pen once more, began to write.
Once again, the imposing man announced the various slips of paper, which now contained the various answers to specific requests.
Before everyone's eyes, pairs were formed.
Pair 5 was Andrew's request for materials and oils, while pair 17 was his request for a weapon.
Those who had at least one request and answer pair could get up and go to the offices.
There were at least thirty rooms here, whether actual offices or visiting rooms.
The old man approached Andrew with a questioning expression, while he said in a low voice, "5 and 17."
Nodding, the old man pointed to two doors before approaching other guests.
The first negotiation was simple enough; after all, he had asked for very specific materials.
In total, he paid 30 Soli.
The second negotiation would have been more interesting.
Having asked for a weapon in general, there was a chance Andrew would have to choose between several of them.
Once inside, he saw a man with dark slicked back hair and a black mask that revealed only his dark eyes. He was wearing an elegant black suit.
What is this? Not even devotees of the Evernight Goddess dress like this!, laughing mentally, Andrew looked at the table that was once used to examine patients.
In a very careful, almost artistic manner, a gun and a cane had been placed, seeming to complement each other.
Someone with a possible artistic or dramatic nature? Or just someone with an obsessive-compulsive disorder?, ignoring his thoughts, he placed a hand on his chest in greeting.
"Good evening, sir, these are?"
The man only made an indignant sound.
"How can you think I'm a man?!", said in a very high-pitched voice.
...
Are you... an aspiring Witch?, Andrew thought to himself.
Observing in the silence, the man (?) gave a dry, almost disappointed laugh.
"No one who wants to play along, eh? You Loenese always have a broom up your ass."
"You have a Loenese accent", Andrew retorted without realizing it.
"How can you think I'm Loenese?!"
Having returned to the starting point, Andrew approached the door to leave. A bluff to convince the other person to be a little more serious.
However, as he touched the doorknob and began to move it, Andrew heard only silence from the other man.
"…"
Because of this he found himself stuck. He needed those weapons, but he certainly couldn't go back without the other person saying a word.
He would have lost all his pride.
Finally, a sound came from the black man.
Which, unfortunately for Andrew, was a laugh.
A hearty laugh.
Trying to hide his embarrassment and anger (which would have manifested itself in the form of a physical assault), he turned to look at him.
He spoke in the coldest voice possible, "What's the problem?"
At his tone, the man seemed even more amused, but luckily, he seemed to have run out of air.
"Ahhh, I have to say you made me laugh, boy. We Loenese don't know how to make jokes, but we know how to be jokes!"
After stating the last sentence, the man paused for a moment, placed his hand to control his heart, and seemed to be trying to regain all the lost air.
Finally, he got back to business, "I propose two Mystical Items: the fire-eating gun and the cane for troglodytes.
See the gun? When you fire even the simplest projectile, it is accompanied with very powerful flames. The main problem is that it takes a second longer to eject the projectile, and all the projectiles usually melt before reaching the enemy. So it has a shorter range than traditional guns. Its duration is about three months.
The cane is much simpler; it increases the force of each blow delivered with it. It also displays resistance against the supernatural. The downside is that the individual tires much more easily from swinging it.
I would give it a duration of seven months."
"And the prices?" Andrew asked without thinking twice.
"320 pounds and 1100 pounds."
"A bit much, don't you think?"
"Tsk tsk," the man replied with a raised finger, "That's perfectly normal. Just think about the fact that the cane is resistant to the supernatural! It can be used as a shield, and it lasts much longer than the gun—
But! If you really want it, I can lower the price of the staff to 1,000 pounds."
…I lack physical strength, and the gun is easily replaceable, and if the bullets melt too quickly, their attack range is more or less the same
Andrew was about to speak until—
"!"
His body felt a sudden tremor, as if an electric shock had been sent to keep him on his toes.
Why wasn't I thinking about my finances?! I can't spend all that money now! I already have to pay that drunkard…
Did he purposely give me two options, one less desirable and the other more, to push me into buying the cane with a higher price than normal? Was the discount also to steer me towards the cane?
When he offered me the weapons, it was as if I'd forgotten all the possible problems... a Beyonder ability?
Glancing at the man in black, he felt a sense of nervousness and annoyance rising.
"I don't see anything interesting in them, goodbye."
The weapons were useful, but he wouldn't buy from someone like him.
Too many people were already playing with his mind.
With a glance, he noticed the man's shoulders tense, as if he hadn't expected this result.
Exiting the door, he nodded to the old man, who showed him a way out.
After the trades, the buyers and sellers could return to the room to discuss and exchange gossip, or leave first.
Maybe it was better to see if any interesting information was leaked, but he still wouldn't waste any more time with a guy like him possibly in the room.
If Andrew had to guess correctly, he believed that the man's Pathway gave him extra charisma that allowed him to convince people while ignoring all the possible problems.
He probably escaped only thanks to the clash between charisma and the analytical enchantment given by the Reader Pathway.
Once outside the building, the student walked along empty streets and, more often than not, dirty alleys filled with tramps.
After all it was already dark, and the red Moon was looking down from the sky.
Meanwhile, his thoughts wandered to his finances.
It was almost the end of September, so he'd receive the money from that woman in a few days.
Meanwhile, he hoped his investment would be successful...
About a week ago (after the embarrassing incident), Andrew had become interested in the investment market, and while browsing through the news, he saw something interesting.
A request of funding to create a camera that took photos with colors.
Perhaps attracted by the strange idea, he'd met the elderly gentleman who apparently owned the patent.
Like his idea, the old man was strange.
He looked around, pale and almost melancholic. If he hadn't visited his house to ask questions, he would surely have thought he was homeless.
The idea was quite new, and because of this, he had become one of the major shareholders of the concept. With the presence of a lawyer, of course. After contacting him a second time, he discovered that other people and minor nobles had also invested.
Now he could only wait and pray for the best. It was his attempt to become more independent from his mother's annoying friend.
After getting far enough away, he removed his mask and inhaled some of Backlund's deadly air. Certainly, thanks to various laws like the National Atmospheric Pollution Council bill and some organizations, the situation had improved.
But unfortunately, due to the already present concentration of dust and clouds, many people had already died two years ago in the great smog.
It was an unforgettable wound for everyone.
Andrew himself, by sheer luck, managed to survive by entering a Church of the Lord of Storms, posing as a believer.
Back then it seemed as if the God, wanting to protect His believers, created wind so strong to keep the smog outside of the Church.
As he entered a short path in East Borough, aiming to take a shortcut, he heard a sound.
Like something metallic falling on the ground.
Realizing the sound was coming from the left, he looked away briefly.
Only to be met with a punch.
"!"
Crack!
Suddenly his body turned into glass as it broke into million pieces. He reappeared near the next wall with the hidden mirror in his coat broken.
"Ugh!"
He was pretty sure his nose had just been broken. After all this mirror substitution wasn't perfect.
Without it he believed that his head would have broken as well.
The alley was just that, an alley. Narrow and straight. The kind of alley where all the trumps usually congregate to seek each other's warmth for the night.
But these were missing.
As if something had chased them away, or worse.
If Andrew had stayed a second longer before taking the blow, he probably would have noticed the oddity.
Raising his shaky gaze, he tried to observe the culprit.
"W-What the fuck?!
His gentlemanly demeanor completely abolished.
In front of him stood what could only be described as a child of machines and humans.
Mechanical parts were joining with human flesh like parasites finding their way into an organism. And precisely in these areas where the two realities met, red skin was visible, perhaps wounds caused by the insertion of the metal.
Half of its mouth was covered in plates, while the other half was a paste of flesh.
As if someone had repeatedly punched the original human's face.
The darkness prevented Andrew from observing the upper part of the face, but he reasoned that it would be useless anyway.
He had the strange feeling that he wouldn't be able to capture anything human anyway.
Using all the strength and adrenaline in his body, he began to run in the original direction.
All he had to do was reach a populated area! Or better yet, a Church! Any Church, really!
As he ran, he heard metallic footsteps behind him.
It looks like it's made of pure metal, no doubt it's slow!
He ignored the drops of blood falling from his nose, the same blood that now was mixing with the blood of some homeless person previously killed by the monster.
Finding some joy in the monster's slowness, he decided to try an experiment. Taking a small knife from his hidden coat pocket, he made a very awkward turn while pointing the tip at the monster.
Taking a common object this morning, he had prayed to the Lord of Storms to transform it into a Mystical Item!
It worked by sending out small shocks, with the downside of attracting occasional lightning bolts when used.
The weapon wouldn't do much, but it was meant to control something.
Even if it were weak, any human would be a little numb from the shock.
Yet the monster continued walking undaunted. So its nerves were probably gone.
Which meant he lacked the means to slow it down further.
Near the end of the path, the mechanical bastard moved at a much faster speed than before; it seemed unable to control its own speed.
In fact, instead of hitting him with a fist or something else, he made the two bodies collide.
What the hell!
It looked like he'd been hit by a moving train.
After flying for about a foot, his body hit the ground. Sore from the fall and the collision between the two bodies, he couldn't get up.
With his own blurred vision, he observed the machine, also lying on the ground.
Perhaps not only was he incapable of handling high speeds, but he also seemed to have poor balance.
If asked to someone like that Savant girl, the leading theory would have been that, once again, due to the heavy metals that composed the body, sudden movements increased the risk of falling.
Now that he could look at its back, he noticed small pipes that were emitting smoke, or perhaps steam?
...Is he using the corpse's blood as a source of steam?, he wondered as he thought about the strange and horrifying possibility of being nerveless but still having residual blood in the body.
Another part of him wondered if this was Portland's doing to silence him.
In any case, the fundamental difference between the two was the lack of nerves and therefore pain.
In fact, while Andrew still struggled to get up, the half-breed did so easily enough, slowed only by a few wounds appearing on the human tissue that composed him.
While considering his options, Andrew found only one.
"The Fool that doesn't belong to this era"
He began to pray rather hastily.
He hated playing the game of whoever had implanted this Honorific Name in his head. But he would receive no other help.
"The Mysterious Ruler above the Gray Fog"
Among other Gods, he would appear only one of the many believers, of the many ants praying for help, praying for salvation.
At this point, his only option was to pray to the only entity who had perhaps shown interest in him.
"The King of Yellow and Black who wields good luck"
The wind suddenly picked up, and maybe, just maybe, the moon began to shine brighter.
Suddenly, it seemed as if a fog from Heaven had chosen to descend between them, to embrace the wounded boy whose thoughts seemed to be growing increasingly detached and complicated.
It felt just like a week ago!
He didn't know why, but from his sight the mechanical monster vanished. Destroyed? Escaped? Or something else?
Its status was unknown, but its absence made the boy relax, his thoughts slowly slowing and shattered.
Finally, he closed his eyes, hoping only for the benevolence of the Gods.