Just as that thought crossed his mind, the last streak of sunset slipped beneath the horizon. Layers of dark clouds and mist swallowed the crimson moon, plunging the sky into an abrupt, heavy darkness.
"Woooooo—"
Amid the raspy howling of the sea wind, a massive black sailing ship appeared on the distant waters. Slowly, it began to glide toward the harbour. The fishermen, startled, stopped what they were doing and turned to watch, murmuring to each other in confusion.
The moment Edward laid eyes on the ship, he felt a dreadful malice surge toward him—a malignant will trying desperately to burrow into his body. Fortunately, it was all blocked outside by his [Dullness].
Corruption!
"Ah! AHHH!!"
In the next second, the fishermen gazing at the ship screamed in agony. Their bodies swelled grotesquely—arms, legs, torsos all ballooning as if inflated from within.
"AAAHHH!"
When the swelling reached its limit, most of them exploded with a thunderous boom, showering the port with blood and flesh. A few others twisted and warped into frenzied, horrifying monsters that lunged at the still-sane survivors.
In an instant, the harbour turned into a living hell.
"Fiendfyre."
Crimson flames erupted from Edward's wand, roaring across the docks. The blaze devoured the corrupted and the mutated alike, consuming even the nearby fishing boats until they were nothing but ash.
He took a single step forward—then, in the blink of an eye, appeared dozens of meters from the bizarre ship. His figure flickered again and again, leaving behind a series of shimmering illusory doors encircling the vessel, sealing off the pollution that seeped from it.
Then, using those phantom doors as cover, Edward raised his wand once more. Fiendfyre surged out again, sweeping toward the black ship.
BOOM!
The flames engulfed the ship instantly, spreading like maggots clinging to bone, crawling over every inch of its surface. Yet to Edward's astonishment, though the fire burned fiercely, it didn't leave a single mark. It was as if the ship merely wore the fire as a blazing cloak.
By the light of the inferno, Edward finally saw the emblem embroidered on the sails—a golden laurel flower.
Laurel…?
THE Laurel!
Edward's heart skipped a beat. That can't be right…How could the Laurel appear in Bansy?
Wasn't it supposed to have departed from the Intis side of Midseashire, heading toward that nameless island in the Fog Sea? Even if it had secretly set sail early, there was no way it could have ended up here—Bansy was in the opposite direction!
Either this ship, with its golden laurel emblem, wasn't the true Laurel, or…something had gone terribly wrong with the information he'd received.
Clink.
Edward caught the coin flickering between his fingers. The side showing the head faced up—confirmation. This was the Laurel, the very ship belonging to the Abraham family!
But then…where was its crew? Had they abandoned ship? Or had they already perished—devoured by the pollution?
So the information that Mr. Door gave me back then was false, Edward realised grimly. He never sent the Abrahams to that nameless island at all. He sent them here—to Bansy.
He lied…to mislead me, to keep me from interfering with his true plan.
But what plan could that be? To return from the stars into reality?
Impossible!
The Seven Churches—especially the Evernight Goddess—would never allow such a thing to happen. And what connection could his "return" possibly have with Bansy?
At that moment, the Fiendfyre that had been blazing across the Laurel began to die down. The flames had burned for half an hour, yet the ship remained utterly pristine—unscathed, as if brand-new.
"Wooooo…"
The Laurel let out another eerie, wind-like moan, straining to break through the ring of illusory doors that trapped it.
Suspended in midair, Edward gazed down at the dark ship, his heart wavering. The Laurel—the very ship he had searched for so long—was right before his eyes. Yet it was likely tied to both Mr. Door and the Mother Goddess of Depravity, making it unimaginably dangerous.
Still…his divination had made it clear—the Wanderer's Beyonder characteristic, or something closely related to it, was on that ship.
Should I…return to Trier first? he wondered. Check what's happening in Intis before I decide whether this risk is worth taking?
Just as the thought took shape, the crimson moonlight spilling from the heavens deepened—its hue darkened, thickened…turned bloodier.
Edward suddenly looked up. The clouds and mist in the sky had dispersed, revealing the crimson moon in full clarity. Its once-thin outline rapidly expanded and filled out—in just a second or two, it became a full moon, blood-red and ominous.
But it had only been less than a week since the last full moon.
This was the Blood Moon, a phenomenon unique to the Mysteries world!
The thick, dark-red moonlight poured down upon the ship, coating it in a chilling, sinister glow.
Crack…crack…crack.
One by one, the illusory doors blocking the Laurel were squeezed and shattered, dissolving into countless specks of light. At the same time, the black ship turned translucent—its form growing faint, as though it were tearing open the air itself to sail into the Spirit World.
It's trying to escape!
Edward knew he couldn't hesitate any longer. He instantly blinked forward, shouting, "Magnify—Spirit World traversal is forbidden here!"
The Laurel, which had already half-entered the Spirit World, was forcibly ejected by an invisible force, crashing back into the sea with a thunderous splash. Edward followed immediately, flickering through the air until he landed on the ship's deck.
The instant his boots touched the surface, he felt a soft, yielding texture beneath him—it wasn't wood at all, but something disturbingly pliant. He glanced down—and his heart seized.
It wasn't soft mud beneath his feet. It was dark red flesh and blood.
The entire ship was a living, Extraordinary creature!
Creak—
Before he could react further, a harsh, grating sound split the air. Edward's body rose instinctively, hovering just above the deck, as the spot where he had stood moments ago split open into a gaping maw filled with scarlet fangs.
Seeing its prey floating out of reach, the enormous mouth twisted. Its tongue writhed grotesquely, transforming into a blur as it lashed upward toward Edward.
He blinked away again, vanishing from the tongue's path, and thrust his wand downward. A bolt of silver-white lightning shot from its tip and plunged into the mouth.
The entire ship convulsed violently, as if in excruciating pain, and the giant maw snapped shut with a strangled groan.
"Avada Kedavra!"
Before the mouth could close completely, several streams of emerald-green light blasted inside, followed by another round of spasms. The Laurel quivered and shuddered on the waves for a long moment before finally falling silent, drifting eerily still.
Edward didn't relax. Silver lightning danced wildly in his eyes as he lifted his wand again. In the next instant, a thunderbolt as thick as a barrel crashed down from the sky, striking the ship and exploding into writhing serpents of electricity that crawled over every surface.
It was only the beginning.
As dark clouds gathered rapidly above the Laurel, thunder rumbled and rolled across the sea. Bolts of lightning fell in relentless succession—some striking simultaneously, others in staggering rhythm—each one slamming into the ship with devastating force.
Blinding light flashed again and again across the vast sea, refusing to fade. Edward's wand almost sparked from overuse—he hurled Avada Kedavra after Avada Kedavra, spell after spell, in between continuous thefts of power.
Finally—
The Laurel reached its limit.
The once pristine black ship warped before his eyes. Its surface became riddled with gaping holes; its masts cracked, sails torn, deck split, and cabins collapsed inward. It now looked like an ancient wreck salvaged from the seabed after decades of decay.
Thump…thump…thump.
Through the ruptured deck, Edward saw a massive black-red heart pulsing slowly inside the ship, veins bulging across its surface. Embedded at its centre was a half-meter-wide black wooden chest—half-buried within, half exposed.
Rip—
With a series of wet, sickening sounds, the veiny surface of the heart tore open, and countless blood-soaked arms burst forth. They flailed and clawed wildly at the air—aimless, frenzied, horrifying.
"That box…"
Edward's spirituality stirred. He realised that the ship's unnatural vitality stemmed from that chest. He raised his hand sharply.
"Steal!"
Failure.
Again—failure. A third time—still failure.
After more than ten attempts, the heart-beast below seemed to lose all patience. Enraged, it used its forest of arms to pull itself up through the shattered deck, forcing its enormous form into the open. The dozens of limbs writhed madly, and in their palms, illusory, translucent books materialised—flipping open in unison.
The next second, a storm of Beyonder powers—dozens of abilities from different pathways and sequences—burst forth, surging toward Edward. Though most were of lower sequence, their combined assault still made his hair stand on end.
Edward immediately blinked backwards, retreating through space. He tossed his coin repeatedly, ensuring the barrage's effects had faded before reemerging from the Spirit World. The moment he stepped out, he unleashed another barrage—explosions of lightning, waves of Fiendfyre, a rain of killing curses—followed by a second Thunderstorm that drowned the creature in crackling arcs.
This time, his attacks clearly struck home. The black-red heart split open under the bombardment, spurting gouts of foul blood.
It tried to teleport away—but Edward had already sealed the space again.
Forced to stay, the heart retaliated with another flurry of chaotic powers, but Edward's form flickered rapidly, darting between one illusory door after another. He hid in layers of space separate from reality, letting all the heart's attacks fall into nothingness.
The creature tried to invoke Prohibition, attempting to confine him—but its recorded sequence was far too low, rendering the effort meaningless.
"Lightning Burst!"
At Edward's latest swing of his wand, the section of the heart where the black chest was embedded suddenly exploded. The chest was blown free, spinning high into the air.
Dozens of bloody hands stretched out in panic, clawing desperately to grab it—but Edward was faster. A single Theft snatched the chest from midair, and he caught it with an invisible hand.
Almost simultaneously, the monstrous heart shrivelled and decayed before his eyes. Foul black blood poured out, along with dozens of swollen, waterlogged corpses—men and women who must have been the missing descendants of the Abraham family.
Moments later, under the groaning creak of breaking timbers, the Laurel finally succumbed. It sank beneath the waves, leaving behind only a scattering of bubbles before disappearing into the depths.
Edward hovered above the sea, gazing at the spot where the ship had vanished, his expression complicated.
So the Laurel really did sink…because of me?
He wondered what had happened in the future—how the descendants of Medici later recovered a third of the ship's remains to use as a ritual altar…and where the rest of it had gone.
Had its fragments drifted apart by the ocean's currents, or…had something else caused its division?
Edward lowered his gaze to the ancient black chest now suspended before him. Once again, his thoughts circled back to the same question:
Why had the Laurel come to Bansy?
Was it because the Beyonder characteristic inside the box had awakened and drawn it here by coincidence? Or was this all part of Mr. Door's design?
And if the Russian Priest sent me here—why? Was it merely to deliver the Wanderer's Beyonder characteristic to me, as a gesture of goodwill? Did he not realise such an arrangement would evoke resentment rather than gratitude?
No…he's not that kind of person.
Then the answer must lie—inside this box.
———
[Note]: Don't forget to VOTE. It keeps me motivated.