Phoenix nodded. "I know where he is."
"Go check what he's doing," Edward instructed. "And ask if he's got anything he wants to tell me."
"Got it~"
Phoenix gave a cheerful chirp, then added, "Last time I went to find him, he was on an island. The moment he saw me, he signalled me to leave right away."
"Oh?" Edward raised a brow in surprise. "And you didn't tell me that?"
"…You were in a rush to send a letter to that woman who loves teaching people."
"Right. Well, help me figure it out this time."
"No problem~"
With a graceful flap, Phoenix tore open the fabric of reality and flew into the spirit world.
Edward, meanwhile, conjured a massive blackboard and, like an emotionless machine, announced, "Next, I'll be imparting to you some rare and arcane mystical knowledge. It includes both profound secrets and precious potion formulas. Whoever can memorise and grasp this knowledge the fastest…will be rewarded."
The pirates—already bewildered—looked even more lost after hearing that.
Not that Edward cared.
Without waiting for their reaction, he began:
"Let's start with the twenty-two Potion Pathways. The so-called Pathways originated from the mysterious First Blasphemy Slate, which recorded all twenty-two paths to godhood. These pathways start from Sequence 9 and end at Sequence 0. The deities we now speak of are the Sequence 0s of their respective paths. Later…"
As Edward lectured on, the pirates shifted from confusion to astonishment—and finally, excitement.
The once-misty and impenetrable world of mysticism was now unfolding clearly before them.
Extraordinary abilities, the mystical potions to obtain them, the Forsaken Land of the Gods that even deities could not step into…
But unlike the other pirates, who were now visibly thrilled, the red-haired pirate's expression grew increasingly pale. Sweat streamed down his face.
As a Beyonder himself, he knew how priceless this information was. Just leaking a fraction of it would cause a massive stir out in the world.
And yet this "Gehrman Sparrow"—this man whose appearance didn't match any bounty poster—was freely telling all of it to a bunch of pirates.
Yes, at this point, he was certain this lunatic really was Gehrman Sparrow.
Because only he could be this unpredictable.
Only he could be this illogical.
And only he would do something this absolutely insane.
Still, no matter how crazy Sparrow was, the redhead didn't believe someone like him would actually leak real, valuable knowledge.
Which could only mean one thing—
They were all doomed.
But what could he do against a madman with such terrifying power?
He was only a Sequence 8 Provoker.
What did he have to offer? Mock the man into killing him?
He had already tried that.
And after "dying" once, he no longer had the courage to try again.
———
Tiana Island
The final supply port most ships dock at before reaching Bayam.
Originally, it was nothing more than an uninhabited island. Later, Loen had forcibly relocated some indigenous people from the Rorsted Archipelago to build a supply hub here. Over time, those natives settled permanently.
And it remained that way to this day.
Deep in the jungle of the island, inside an underground base of the Sea God's Church, Danitz—now with red hair and a neatly trimmed beard—lay sprawled across a fur-covered chair, eyes closed in a meditative pose.
He wore traditional Rorsted-style native clothing, his bronzed chest exposed beneath the open collar. The overall look gave him a roguish air of relaxed authority.
Just then, a middle-aged man in ceremonial robes of the Sea God's Church rushed into the room, bowing with respect.
"Bishop Ace, the ritual preparations and materials are complete. When shall we begin?"
Danitz cracked an eye open and answered coolly, "No rush. I'll check things over in a bit."
"As you command."
The priest bowed and retreated, leaving Danitz alone once more.
He shut his eyes again, striking a pose of aloof calm.
But only he knew how hard he was internally panicking.
Looking back on everything that had happened recently, there was really only one way to describe it:
The polite version would be "surreal."
The real version?
He'd just tripped and fallen face-first into a pile of divine dogshit-level luck.
Danitz had finally learned what it really meant to go undercover—and somehow become the boss by accident.
After ascending to Conspirer, he became painfully aware of how inadequate his strength still was. He didn't even have time to flirt with Edwina before he ran off the Golden Dream to start a new round of acting.
He tried a few petty scams and little intrigues, but quickly realised this method was far too slow.
Then came fate.
He encountered a few members of the Sea God's Church under attack.
After stepping in to help, one of the mid-tier leaders he saved immediately tried to recruit this "righteous warrior" into the fold.
Only then did Danitz realise who they were—followers of the Sea God, a cult officially labelled as heretical by the Church of the Storm.
He'd heard of them before:
Claiming to fight against colonial oppression on behalf of the natives, while engaging in brutal, barbaric practices. Human sacrifice? Not uncommon.
It was a real heretical cult.
But Danitz, ever the quick thinker, immediately had an idea.
The core of Conspirer lay in deception and scheming.
If he could infiltrate this heretical cult, win their trust through cunning, and eventually bring the entire thing down from within…
Now that would be the perfect act.
So he agreed to the offer, concealing his power and joining the cult under the name "Ace."
And from there, his absurdly lucky career began.
Day Two after joining, the squad leader died in battle. With his last breath, he handed the group over to Danitz—just like that, Danitz was the new leader.
Shortly after, the branch was attacked by the Church of the Storm. Their bishop was slain on the spot. Most of the priests and clergy were wiped out.
Danitz, who had no real faith in the Sea God, used "preserving strength" as a reason to lead his squad to safety.
Then, the cult sent a new bishop. Impressed by Danitz's "decisive leadership," and in desperate need of competent people, he promoted him to priest.
A week later, during an operation with the new bishop, Danitz performed "admirably" again and was elevated to High Priest, managing much of the branch's day-to-day operations.
He thought that was the peak of his unbelievable good luck.
Three days later, another attack.
The new bishop died.
Danitz, without hesitation, led the followers in retreat—and bumped into the Grand Bishop who'd come to reinforce them.
Result?
Another merit.
Soon after, the cult relocated its base to Tiana Island. Danitz was officially appointed the new Bishop of this branch, in charge of everything. In other words—he had become the boss of the Sea God's local church.
Originally, his plan had been to eventually topple the organisation. That would have made this the perfect Conspirer act.
But there was just one little problem:
In all his life, Danitz had never heard of a cult leader…
…who took down his own cult.
Like…how exactly would you even do that?
What was he supposed to do—just declare the cult disbanded on the spot? Report everything to the Church of the Storm? Or go full-on berserker and slaughter all the believers?
The real dilemma was that after spending time among the Church of the Sea God, Danitz realised that while they were undeniably a textbook example of a heretical cult, their intentions were surprisingly simple and sincere.
From top to bottom, all they really wanted was to use their faith in the Sea God to unite the people, resist the oppression of Loen, and liberate the Rorsted Archipelago in pursuit of a better life.
Most of the cultists weren't mad zealots or cold-blooded killers. They were just hopeless natives from the bottom rungs of society. Many of them clung desperately to their faith in the Sea God, praying only to scrape together a bit of food for their wives and children.
Danitz had seen firsthand how hard their lives were. He understood their yearning to fight back against a cruel fate. And so, his heart softened.
He decided to stay—just a little longer—and do what he could to help these poor souls. At the very least, he didn't want to send them off to die pointlessly anymore.
And just like that, he was in too deep.
The higher-ups in the Church of the Sea God suddenly announced they would be cooperating with the Numinous Episcopate, planning to use mass sacrifices among the faithful to invoke divine aid in striking against Loen's military presence and the Church of the Storm throughout the archipelago.
And the one in charge of this operation?
The bishop who had passed every test with flying colours—"Ace" himself.
Danitz, upon receiving this command, immediately packed up what few belongings he had and prepared to bolt—only to bump straight into the archbishop of the Sea God Church, who had arrived with the Numinous Episcopate to personally oversee the sacrificial ritual.
At that moment, Danitz finally understood why the Church of the Storm had been hitting the Sea God cult so relentlessly in recent weeks.
You're planning to perform live sacrifices and summon help from an Evil God—what do you expect the orthodox Church to do, not try to wipe you out?
Even so, the archbishop maintained full confidence in Danitz and left everything to him. But escape? That was out of the question now.
And if he didn't flee?
Then he'd be forced to lead hundreds of followers—men, women, and even some youths—into the sacrificial chamber with his own hands, offering up their lives to summon some unknown and terrible being.
Danitz had, of course, considered seeking outside help. He thought of the Captain. Of Edward. He even considered directly reporting the cult to the Church of Storm.
But he failed on all fronts. While the Sea God archbishop trusted him, the members of the Numinous Episcopate trusted no one. There was no opportunity to pass a message.
So Danitz gave up. Then, in a moment of inspiration—or desperation—he came up with what could only be described as a half-baked plan: To avoid the Church of Storm discovering the sacrifice prematurely, he scattered some of the more loyal and capable cultists across the region, instructing them to stir up trouble using the names of either Gehrman Sparrow or "Fire Fist" Ace.
The idea was to draw the attention of the authorities away from Tiana Island.
But in reality? He was hoping someone—anyone—would follow the trail back to him. Maybe even Edward himself. Maybe the Captain.
But two weeks had passed.
The date of the sacrificial ritual drew closer and closer. The cultists Danitz had sent out were doing great, stirring up chaos under the Gehrman Sparrow name. Rumours had even begun to spread that Gehrman was assembling a fleet to become the new Pirate Admiral.
And Tiana Island?
Utterly calm. Not a single ripple.
The good news was: the Church of Storm and Loen's navy did seem to be distracted.
The bad news was: the Church of Storm and Loen's navy did seem to be distracted.
Danitz: "..."
He should've spilled everything to Edward's messenger the last time it showed up. But back then, no one had mentioned anything about a mass sacrifice!
Now frustrated beyond measure, Danitz tore at his dyed red hair with both hands.
Thump-thump-thump!
Suddenly, hurried footsteps approached. The door opened, revealing the archbishop—an elderly man with white hair, dressed in an ancient and worn ceremonial robe.
"Ace Bishop," he said solemnly.
Danitz immediately stood. "What is it, Your Grace?"
The archbishop's expression was grave. "Just now, Ralfa from the Numinous Episcopate detected a Spirit World messenger attempting to breach the boundary. He suspects someone is trying to send a message to the outside."
Danitz's heart dropped. "Which means…"
The archbishop stared straight into his eyes. "There may be a traitor among us."
Danitz froze, stunned. Shit. I'm done for.
———
Aboard the Nameless.
Klein lay on a luxurious bed in a cabin much better furnished than the one on the White Agate, staring at the endless stretch of sea and sky outside the window, thoroughly tired of it all.
The small passenger vessel hadn't originally had a name. It had only been called the Nameless for the sake of convenience.
It had been over ten hours since Edward left.
The women and the bodyguards on board, tense and fearful, had only managed to catch some sleep around noon, after exhaustion finally overcame their nerves.
They'd all known this journey wouldn't be smooth sailing—but living through it had shown them that reality was far crueller than they imagined.
Especially now that they were on a smaller boat—any passing wave could cause it to rock violently. Even those who normally never got seasick were starting to show signs of stress.
Knock, knock, knock.
There was a knock at the door. Klein leapt down from the bed and, the moment his hand touched the doorknob, he already knew—it was Aldrich.
"In about ten minutes, we'll arrive at Cecil Island," Aldrich reported. "We'll rest there for the afternoon, stock up on supplies, and then head straight for Bansy Harbour in one go."
Klein remained cold. "They've really decided to go to Bansy?"
"I'll say this one last time—once we reach Bansy, I'm not getting off this boat. No matter what happens."
Klein trusted Edward's judgment. If Edward said Bansy was dangerous, then it was dangerous. Going there despite the warning was sheer idiocy.
Aldrich sighed. "I've tried to persuade them too. But…one of the ladies, her hometown is in Bansy. She insists on going to see it one last time—and maybe head to Bayam afterwards, depending on the situation."
Klein sneered, "Depending on the situation? If there really is a situation, they won't even have the chance to leave alive."
"Well, we've got another day or so," Aldrich said seriously. "I'll try again to talk them out of it."
"If it comes down to it, we'll keep the ship a nautical mile offshore. I'll take a team in a smaller boat to escort them in."
Klein gave a short nod. "Mm."
Twenty minutes later, the Nameless docked at Cecil Island. It would remain there until early the next morning.
By all rights, this was a chance for everyone to stretch their legs on land. But none of the women nor the bodyguards had the stomach for it. Only the logistics team responsible for resupplying disembarked.
Naturally, Klein wasn't among those who stayed behind.
As he exited the cabin, he spotted a few of the women leaning over the ship's railing, curiously peering toward the dock. Their faces were filled with interest, and they whispered quietly among themselves—but none of them made a move to disembark.
The moment they noticed Klein approaching, they immediately stopped talking and lowered their heads, retreating into the ship.
Klein sighed inwardly.
Am I really that scary?
———
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