Rosacer followed Neb's advice and went to search for the Black Heart Gathering near the docks. The air was thick with the smell of rust and salt, as mist and fog clung heavily to the area. Piers and wharves were lined with ships that looked like they had never moved and never would. The only sounds came from the warehouses, while the rest of the docks lay silent and empty. Drawn by the noise, Rosacer made his way toward one of the warehouses.
'I hope this is not a trap.'
Rosacer was ready to transform back into a rat at the slightest hint of suspicion, the Grafted sigil already hanging around his neck, hidden beneath his shirt.
The warehouse was rusting, its roof already collapsed, and the door in front of him was shut, with a small opening covered by a metal sheet that looked like it could slide open. He knocked on the steel hull, and the sound echoed through the entire dock.
Simultaneously, the small opening was slide open, with a voice from inside whispers, "What is the password?"
Rosacer remembered the passwords said by Neb was along the line, "Ackerman's Grace never dies."
The slid closed again, and with a thud sound the warehouse door was opened slightly with a voice asking to come inside quickly.
Without pause, he stepped inside, darkness surging and blinding him until he reached a door, open from the inside. Lights flickered—some bluish, some yellowish—dancing around the space, breaking through the warehouse gloom.
The interior was a vast hall with tables and chairs neatly arranged in uniform rows, a large stage set at the front, likely where the auction would take place. It felt more like items were being sold than jobs.
One of the guards, dressed in the same black uniform, said to Rosacer, "Sit quickly, the job fair is starting."
Rosacer nodded, quickly finding an empty seat at a table where others were already seated, each eyeing one another warily.
'I shouldn't ask before sitting, right?' he thought to himself.
There were two men wearing badges, one with asymmetrical eyes and the other with a handsome, sharp face, dressed in a black suit in much better condition than his own, and wearing white gloves on his hands. There was nothing unusual about the latter.
Both of these men were seated in different manners. The odd one had a nervous look on his face, his teeth chattering, while the handsome one sat with elegance, occasionally flicking his finger to conjure purple flames.
The handsome man looked like a magician with quick hands, and Rosacer felt a bit wary when he noticed it.
'I wonder if he would steal from me.'
He still had a gun and a valuable artifact hanging around his neck, so there was definitely value attached to him.
As he approached the seat, the other men glanced his way. The handsome one offered a polite smile, while the other wore a sour expression.
'Looks like I'm only half welcome,' he joked to himself.
The handsome man adjusted his cane and met Rosacer's gaze as he introduced himself, "Name's Josan Decruz."
Josan didn't offer his hand for a handshake, but it still came off as polite, especially since the other man hadn't even bothered. Rosacer gave a nod in return and replied in the same tone, "Rosacer. Just Rosacer."
He sat down on a nearby seat just as the guard approached again to remind him about the job fair starting.
The lights dimmed once more, the flickering beams drifting upward toward the roof before vanishing out of the warehouse. In their place, the stage blazed to life, flooding the space with neon light that rippled outward toward the seated crowd.
A man with a mustache and a white suit, a black heart emblazoned on his chest, stepped forward. He touched the heart and paused for a moment before making his way to the podium.
Reaching it, he looked over the crowd and, in a stern, heavy voice, declared, "Dear wanted men! Today is your lucky day—the venture into the mist sea begins again, and we are seeking crewmen. There will be a place for everyone."
He scanned the faces for a reaction, but none came. Many in the crowd were already worn out, teetering on the edge of sleep. Some bore bruises from striking themselves just to stay awake, their skin marked in black and blue.
"What do you think, Rosacer? Is there a world outside this mist?" Josan asked, his gaze still fixed on the man announcing the commencement.
'I came from outside, so there is a world, but not the kind you imagine,' Rosacer thought to himself, mocking the very idea of a paradise beyond—if such a place even existed in Josan's mind.
There was an eerie silence in the crowd as the man finally exhaled and began announcing the jobs one by one, with interested candidates raising their hands. Fireballs projected from the stadium were used to choose a candidate if there were more than needed. The one closest to the flame was selected.
'Even the seating arrangement is based on luck.'
There were jobs involving the delivery of goods and others requiring escort duties. Most of them were mainly manual labor or roles as experimental test subjects.
Not eager to endure any gruesome experiments, Rosacer waited for the recruitment of crewmen. He tried to land other jobs, but luck was never on his side.
Soon, his wait was rewarded with success.
The announcer changed his tone as the ending drew near, raising his voice.
"For the crewmen of the ship 'Leviathan Mariner,' please raise your hand!"
Like Rosacer, many had been waiting for this moment, and more than half the seats in the warehouse saw hands shoot up.
Beside him, the two men sitting nearby also raised their hands for the same reason. Like him, they had been unsuccessful in securing other jobs due to the seating arrangement.
Josan looked toward Rosacer. "The competition is really fierce, but it's not a problem. I think we'll be fine this time."
Rosacer nodded with a smile.