After that, neither of them spoke for a long while. They simply turned their heads and looked at the buildings around them, and at the occasional small boat drifting lazily across the water.
The entire village was shrouded in a thin layer of mist. In that hazy atmosphere, one's heart seemed to settle of its own accord.
Of course, Nolan had clearly not come here just to admire the scenery. He had never forgotten why he came.
He glanced at the sullen Sellen and could tell his teacher still had other thoughts on her mind, so without drawing attention to it, he shifted his gaze to the person standing behind him like a little third wheel.
More accurately, there were two third wheels. Besides the quiet young girl, there was also a doll sitting on his shoulder.
Lansseax was busy all over the village, tirelessly spreading the faith on behalf of the Lord of the Tarnished. By now, who knew how many simple, good-natured villagers she had already talked into it.
As for poor Melina, for certain special reasons, she simply had no way to move around freely.
If Nolan and Melina's relationship had to be compared to something, it was a bit like a Spiritcaller Snail and the spirit it summoned.
As long as the Spectral Steed Whistle remained in Nolan's hand, Nolan was effectively Melina's "summoner," and no matter how much she wanted to leave, she could not go far.
As for Ranni in her current state, it was embarrassing enough for strangers to see. There was even less chance of her running around on her own.
"The scenery here is pretty nice. Want me to take you around?" Nolan asked with a smile, extending an invitation to Sellen that sounded very much like a date.
"Not going to look for your death anymore?" Sellen tilted her head slightly and cast him a sidelong glance with her blue eyes, suspicion written all over her face.
She could not help recalling the scene before she left. At the time, Diego had been vividly recounting an old local folktale to Nolan.
According to the story, whenever night fell, the whole village would be swallowed by endless darkness. Thick fog would spread in from all sides, and then a distant, ethereal calling would begin to echo through the air.
The living would step into the abyss of death, while the dead, long gone from the world, would return once more within that eerie mist.
At first hearing, it sounded like nothing more than some absurd ghost story.
But this was the Lands Between, a place filled with countless strange phenomena and mysterious powers. Legends that sounded impossible often had every chance of becoming cruel reality.
"I heard it only appears at night, so there's no need for us to rush."
The corner of Nolan's lips curled into a faint smile. Sellen had not refused outright, which was already a good sign.
As for that mysterious calling, its source was undoubtedly a Tibia Mariner.
These strange boats were steered by ancient gravekeepers. Even after time had withered their bodies into skeletons, they still kept calling out, guiding the dead.
It was worth noting that these gravekeepers were fundamentally different from Those Who Live in Death, the Deathroot-born beings that came after Godwyn's death.
On that night steeped in conspiracy and darkness, when the stolen Rune of Death brought about the first deaths of the Demigods, it transformed into Deathroot and sprouted across the Lands Between through the great roots deep underground.
Those Who Live in Death were the strange beings born from that Deathroot. Their souls were dead, but their bodies still lived, making them something like conscious zombies.
Tibia Mariners, however, were far older. Its origins could be traced all the way back to the era before Death was sealed.
Sellen gave a light nod. Nolan's excuse for the date was not only perfectly reasonable, but delivered with such certainty that it was hard to argue with.
Faced with a request like that from her student, Sellen could not really find any excuse to keep refusing.
Both master and student were people with strong hearts and exceptional mental resilience, so even with those two "third wheels" tagging along, they were still able to stroll leisurely through the quiet, peaceful village.
Taking three girls out at once was not exactly an easy experience, but fortunately Nolan was not without similar experience, so he handled it fairly well.
...
At the same time, a group of people arrived downstream from Summonwater Village, where a building known as the Third Church of Marika stood by the lakeshore.
A dozen or so figures stood silently at the water's edge, staring into the glittering lake.
They gathered around a pile of broken stones, grave expressions hidden beneath their hoods.
The water there was crystal clear, and as the breeze passed over it, ripples spread across the surface. From the church not far away came the occasional sound of devout prayer.
The voices were solemn and lingering, as though they could pierce straight into the soul. Yet in sharp contrast to that sacred atmosphere, corpses lay strewn all over the ground.
The bodies were mangled beyond recognition, broken and incomplete, with great swathes of vivid red flesh scattered everywhere. The sight was enough that even the devout followers of gold could only watch from a distance, not daring to come close.
"Those Who Live in Death must have been drawn here by something. Otherwise they would never have endured the harm of the sacred law just to come here," said one man in black robes.
"I remember there's a legend in Summonwater Village about the Tibia Mariner. It can call back the dead."
A tall man slowly bent down, his gaze fixed on the severed limbs and mangled remains scattered across the ground, and his brows drew together tightly.
"Should we go and deal with it?"
His voice was low and heavy, like muffled thunder, enough to make one's heart tremble. His face was gaunt and gloomy, so bloodless that he looked like a skeleton wrapped in human skin.
Beneath his wide cloak was a suit of battered armor, covered in dense marks left by blades and axes, clear proof of countless brutal battles.
The hunters standing beside him could not help shuddering when they heard that.
Tibia Mariners were not easy to deal with. They would much rather hunt ordinary Those Who Live in Death. The reward might be smaller, but at least they would keep their lives.
"Our mission is to recover the lost death. The death within them comes from an ancient being. That is the final prey. There is no need to disturb them for now."
Another man in heavy black armor approached with slow, steady steps.
He carried a helmet shaped like an iron barrel in his arms and carefully circled the remains once before lifting his head, narrowing his eyes slightly, and speaking in an even tone.
"Murdock, just keep the Deathroot safe. Hand it over to the priest when we return. Be careful and make sure nothing goes wrong. We keep moving and meet with the Lord of the Tarnished as soon as possible."
At those words, the gaunt man gave a slight nod. He could sense the warning implied in them.
Their group made a living hunting death, working for the Beast Priest who fed on death, but in truth they were nothing more than mercenaries.
Every mission was a transaction. Hunt Those Who Live in Death, obtain the prey called "death," and exchange it with the employer for payment.
...
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