The luxurious suite naturally came with room service, allowing the three of them to stay indoors for two full days without stepping outside.
However, Dier made a special trip to the first-floor cafeteria.
A menu alone couldn't determine the quality of the food—only by tasting it could he figure out which dishes suited his palate best.
After gnawing on Black Gun for three days on Narcissa's ship, his taste buds were practically numb, desperately in need of some delicious food to revive them.
"Let's see… Robin's sandwich, Hina's skewers, my grilled meat, pasta, ham..."
The ship's chefs were quite skilled, and Dier quickly picked out his favorite dishes.
As he was leaving with a large pile of food, he spotted a bald-headed man in the crowd.
From a distance, the figure seemed vaguely familiar, but by the time he tried to chase after him for a closer look, the bald man had already disappeared into the throng.
Left with no choice, Dier returned to the room with the food.
Over the next two days, he spent most of his time holed up inside.
Occasionally, he would go out to search for that bald-headed man, but unfortunately, he never found him.
"Bald head, bald head… Is there some big shot in the West Sea with a bald head?"
Lying on the bed, he frowned in deep thought.
"Robin, do you have any idea?"
"No, but we're about to reach our destination."
Robin closed her book and looked out the window.
"The island near Ghost Island—Mist Island."
...
Mist Island, as the name suggested, was an island shrouded in mist.
At its center grew a forest of Mist Trees.
These trees continuously released mist, so the closer one got to the forest, the thicker the fog became.
To make life easier, most of the island's residents lived near the harbor.
Here, the mist was thin and didn't interfere with daily life.
The passenger ship docked at this bustling port to replenish supplies before heading to Ghost Island.
"Ah!"
The moment she stepped onto the gangway, Hina grabbed Robin's arm, trembling.
"N-no, didn't you say there were no ghosts?"
Below the three of them, a white ghost floated in the harbor.
"Of course there are no ghosts. That's just a tall person wearing a white sheet. Look closely—he has feet."
Dier pointed at the figure's lower half as he explained, then turned his gaze to the various monsters in the harbor.
A vampire in formal attire crouched in front of a stall, haggling with a hairy werewolf shopkeeper.
A Frankenstein-like figure with stitches all over his face bent down to lift a heavy load.
A burly, pyramid-headed man walked arm-in-arm with a nurse covered in bloodstains, her face wrapped in bandages.
Two fiendish children chased each other around, shouting something about "Fiend Elbow Strike."
Under the gloomy, sunless sky and the faint mist, the entire harbor looked like a scene of demons running wild.
I wonder if anyone's dressed up as Flame Devourer. Probably not—after all, Flame Devourer looks just like a human.
Lost in thought, Dier suddenly felt a weight on his arm. Turning, he saw Hina clinging to him.
"Hey, weren't you just holding onto her?"
"My legs are weak. I was afraid she couldn't support me. Hi—mmph!"
Dier covered her mouth to stop her verbal tic—there were people around, and she couldn't just blurt out names carelessly.
Dragging Hina along with one hand, he followed Robin down the gangway, officially setting foot on the harbor of Mist Island.
Due to its proximity to Ghost Island and the pervasive fog, the trend of dressing up as ghosts and spirits was equally popular here.
They first stopped by a roadside shop to purchase three demon masks.
Wearing these would allow them to blend in perfectly with the locals while saving Robin the effort of disguising herself.
Their destination was none other than the island's center—right beside the Mist Tree Forest.
"Are you folks also heading into the forest for a visit?"
The coachman, dressed as a vampire, cracked his whip while trying to dissuade the passengers inside the carriage:
"I wouldn't recommend it. The fog there is so thick you can't see what's right in front of you. Even us locals avoid it."
There were always reckless outsiders who insisted on entering the misty forest.
The lucky ones made it out; the unlucky ones died inside.
To prevent a steady stream of tourists from marching to their deaths, the people of Mist Island had cordoned off the entire forest with ropes and wooden stakes as a warning barrier.
Additionally, they required coachmen to actively discourage visitors, ideally dissuading them from their foolish plans.
A complete closure was impossible—many came specifically for the forest. How else would they make money?
"Focus on driving, sir! The fog here is already making it hard to see anything."
Dier grew anxious, gripping the two women beside him tightly. The carriage was moving at breakneck speed, and the coachman was still turned around talking to them.
The surrounding fog thickened, reducing visibility to almost nothing beyond five meters.
"Hahaha~ It's not me guiding the way—it's the dogs."
The coachman turned fully around, sitting cross-legged to face the carriage, completely disregarding the direction as he laughed:
"These dogs follow fixed routes, back and forth every day. They've memorized the path by heart and even use their noses to check for strangers ahead. Clever, aren't they?"
"Speaking of which, have you heard the scary legend? They say..."
The coachman launched into a horror story, though its only effect was to frighten Hina a little.
Soon, the dog-drawn carriage arrived at the edge of the misty forest.
After collecting his payment, the coachman promptly left.
He'd done his part in warning them—whatever happened to Dier and his group was no longer his concern.
"If we follow the forest's warning barrier, we'll find Gunpowder and their tent."
Dier kept his left hand on the barrier while his right held onto Robin, who in turn held Hina's hand.
The fog here was intensely thick, with visibility reduced to half a meter. The trio moved forward hand in hand to avoid getting separated.
Before long, they bumped into a tent.
Zzzip~
The zipper opened, and Gunpowder stuck his head out, scanning them briefly before snapping impatiently:
"Got no eyes or what?!"
Three masked figures—probably more idiots here for a thrill.
...
"Oh-ho! Boss, it's you!"
Gunpowder, now sporting a fresh footprint on his face, rubbed his hands together and grinned obsequiously:
"Come in, come in! Finally, you're here."
Inside the tent, aside from Gunpowder and Boren, was a boy who looked about fifteen or sixteen.
He had short black hair and a stitched scar across his forehead. When Dier and the others entered, he instinctively shrank back, lowering his gaze to the ground and even quieting his breath.
The tent's interior was surprisingly spacious—likely purchased from somewhere special—easily accommodating all six without feeling cramped.
However, the tent was also filled with mist, making visibility rather unclear.
Dier sat cross-legged, resting his chin on one hand, staring curiously at the stitched lines on the boy's forehead:
"Is that drawn on?"
The boy shook his head and whispered:
"This was personally planted on me by Father. It is the symbol of the King."
Dier ignited Flame Power in one hand and leaned in for a closer look. He noticed the horizontal line began at a sword hilt and ended at the blade's tip.
Each vertical line represented a fiend—thirty-six in total. From a distance, they appeared as stitches, but up close, they formed a long sword piercing through the Thirty-Six Fiends.
"Lift your head and look at me."
Hearing this, the boy raised his head, pursed his lips slightly, and met Dier's gaze with timid eyes.
"Do you... trust me?"