"Very good."
Rhys reached out, took the map from Boiling Blood, and at the same time collected some of the poison from his pustules.
Poison that had evolved over several hundred years was highly valuable for research.
"One more thing."
Before parting ways with Boiling Blood, Rhys had another thought and decided to give him something to do.
"Help me collect samples of the poison inside the infected. I'll come and get them from you when I have time."
"Yes!"
Rhys smiled and nodded. Then his figure gradually faded away as he headed toward the locations marked on the map.
While travelling, he also received the objectives for this round of the competition.
[Main Mission: Survive successfully for 90 days. Contestants who fail will be eliminated.]
[Side Mission 1: Wealth Acquisition. Earn 1 point for every 100 gold coins obtained.]
[Side Mission 2: Life Hunt. Kill prey of sufficient strength. Points will be awarded according to the strength of the prey.]
[Random Mission: Not yet triggered.]
[The top sixteen contestants in the final point rankings will advance to the tournament finals.]
After reading the criteria, Rhys smiled.
It was obvious that Rowena was also trying to reduce his workload.
Still, even if these young contestants went all out, how many enemies could they possibly eliminate?
Only the people of the alchemical world hunted by people like Hermione and Daphne would carry enough weight to matter. The achievements of the other contestants would be largely meaningless.
After travelling for most of the day, Rhys decided to stop in a small town for lunch.
The local inn served food quickly. Before long, the dishes he had ordered were laid out on his table.
There was cold-cut meat jelly drizzled with a local sauce, a bowl of stew containing unknown beast meat, animal organs, and root vegetables resembling potatoes, along with a dessert made from honey and cheese.
Just as Rhys was about to enjoy his lunch, modest though it was, but fresh and hot, a man pushed open the low door of the inn and stepped inside.
He wore an obviously expensive robe threaded with gold. His hair was completely white, yet his face did not have a single wrinkle. There was an innate air of nobility between his brows that made him seem completely out of place in this ordinary small-town eatery.
The moment he entered, everyone's attention was drawn to him.
Seeing such a distinguished guest arrive, even the diners lowered their voices considerably.
The man ignored the waiter approaching him and walked straight toward Rhys. Without asking whether Rhys minded, he pulled out the chair opposite him and sat down.
"So even the legendary Prophet is interested in this kind of coarse food?"
Rhys had already recognised the man's identity from the patterns on his robe and his physical features.
He was one of the strongest figures in the human faction, Vassago, the Prophet of the Stars.
Rhys had originally intended to go looking for him, yet unexpectedly, Vassago had come to him first.
"Since you've recognised me, you should also know my background," Vassago replied gently, as though chatting with an old friend.
"I was born into an ordinary farming family. When I was a child, a table of food like this was something I could only dream of."
His tone remained calm. He even took a set of cutlery and a plate from a neighbouring table, looking as though he fully intended to share Rhys's lunch.
Rhys fell silent for two seconds, then gestured for the waiter to bring more food.
What was already on the table was nowhere near enough for two people.
And so, the two of them really did sit in that little restaurant and share lunch like old friends who had known each other for years.
Both Rhys and Vassago had healthy appetites, and before long, very little remained of the table full of food.
"Since you've appeared here, I assume you probably know why I've come?"
Rhys wiped away a little broth from the corner of his mouth and resumed speaking to Vassago.
"Yes."
Vassago broke apart a piece of bread and soaked it in the remaining broth at the bottom of his bowl.
"The technology here really has improved quite a bit. I remember the bread used to be so coarse it was almost impossible to swallow. The quality is much better now."
Vassago paused for a moment before replying, "Six hundred years have passed, after all. Techniques for milling and sifting wheat have naturally improved."
His eyes grew deeper.
"When you spread the plague back then, you probably never imagined that humanity would not only survive the catastrophe, but continue to develop afterward, did you?"
"There are plenty of things I didn't expect. But I really am surprised by the current state of things."
Rhys was speaking sincerely.
Whether it was the fact that six hundred years had passed after a single trip outside, or that the potion he had left behind had created an entire group of infected who now regarded him as their "merciful father," none of it had been within his expectations.
"I'm not your match."
Vassago fell silent for quite a while before returning to the task of finishing the remaining food.
"So you came to me just to die? Prophets really are straightforward. Want something to drink?"
"More or less. I'd like some ale. The wine in places like this is unbelievably poor. Ale is much more reliable."
The two of them casually discussed a subject that would have sounded terrifying to anyone else.
Mixed into ordinary conversation, their words made the atmosphere seem especially strange.
Soon, thanks to Vassago's efforts, every plate on the table had been completely cleared.
"No matter what happens, you did treat me to a meal. Allow me to perform a divination for you in return."
Rhys narrowed his eyes slightly, unable to tell what the Prophet was planning.
Perhaps the divination itself would mark the beginning of their confrontation.
He found himself wanting to refuse.
Given Rhys's personality, he preferred the safest course of action, the one least likely to produce unforeseen complications.
He was a cautious man.
"Please don't refuse just yet," Vassago said earnestly. "I'm sure you know that the opportunity for a Prophet to perform the most accurate kind of divination is something that can only be encountered, not sought. Time, space, and fate must all intertwine before one can produce those terrifyingly precise prophecies.
"But I'm different. I possess the ability to forcibly enter that state of prophetic divination, although I must pay an enormous price for doing so. Outsiders call it 'the divination that can only be performed once in a lifetime.'
"Are you interested in letting me divine your future now?"
Rhys was tempted.
He knew full well that there was probably some trap hidden within this divination, yet in the end, he still agreed.
An opportunity to receive a Prophet's divination was exceedingly rare.
The potential benefits were enormous. No one could easily refuse.
____
12 Chaps ahead at Patreon.com/HornyFBI