Steampunk: Sixth Era Epic-Chapter 770 - : Flower’s Thank-you Gift

Chapter 770 -770: Flower’s Thank-you Gift

Shard set out from his home on a Wednesday morning, almost taking with him all his belongings, just like he did two months ago when he ventured into the Dark Realm.

But this time, he didn’t carry “God’s Gift Box”; after all, he didn’t need to prepare for incarcerating demons, and the box was of no use to Joey Barton. However, while packing, he realized he hadn’t tried to take a gift this week. On a whim, he reached into the gift box and ended up pulling out a book.

It wasn’t the kind meant for reading, but one cut up for puzzle training. Such printed materials, popular amongst children of noble families, weren’t exactly priced for common folk. In return for the gift, Shard had to complete at least two puzzles by the end of the week.

“Once the Milestone matter is resolved, I’ll have plenty of time to deal with these puzzles this week.”

Furthermore, having two Ever-Youth Leaves on hand, Shard saw no need to borrow more from Dorothy.

He did want to ask Luviya to take care of little Mia again, in case he couldn’t return home that night. But the cat, surprisingly stubborn this time, refused to leave Shard no matter what, so he had no choice but to turn the cat into a toy and carry it with him.

If it weren’t for the fact that revealing his intentions to Dorothy might expose his next adventure, it would have been better to leave Mia at Feather Quill Street.

Of course, most importantly, Shard also took the “Soul Fishing Rod” with him. Even though the rod could telescope, it was still quite cumbersome to carry. There was no choice but to bring it along this time. At the moment, the relic’s hook was doubled—one was the original hook of the relic; the other was one he had taken from the gift box last week, made of the same material as the gift box.

Shard roughly guessed the reason for this gift’s emergence.

There was a slight incident before departure: a carriage stopped below Shard’s apartment, and the visitor was not a rare client, but Tifa, who had arrived in haste:

“Shard, I’m glad you haven’t left.”

The living room’s coffee table was filled with relics and spellcasting materials, while the coat spread over the couch was piled with toys.

The black-haired Miss Maid followed Shard into the living room and handed him a red velvet jewelry box she held in her hands:

“The Miss said to lend this to you.”

Shard opened the jewelry box, which contained the Sage-Level Relic, “Ancient Witch’s Golden Necklace.”

“This is…”

“The Miss said she knew what would happen at Milestone today, so she guessed you had things to do. She’s lending this to you as thanks for the rose you gave her at the horse field.”

Tifa revealed a smile:

“Look, you really are leaving. I was worried on my way here that I wouldn’t make it in time to hand this to you.”

Shard found himself at a loss for words:

“Please thank Miss Galina for me.”

He said solemnly, stowing away the golden necklace. With this relic in his possession, he felt even more confident about his upcoming actions.

“The Miss said she wouldn’t stop you from taking risks; after all, the growth of a Circle Sorcerer cannot possibly be without danger.”

Tifa took a step closer to Shard and hugged him gently for a moment before letting go:

“The Miss asked me to embrace you for her, wishing you a smooth journey.”

Shard nodded:

“Tifa, every time you accompany me to play Roder Card with others, my luck seems even better than normal. I think, maybe you’re my lucky lady.”

The black-haired girl’s face turned slightly red:

“The Miss said, if there’s a chance, kill Joey Barton. Others may not know what you’re going to do, but the Miss said, you must be doing the next thing for The Chosen One. Both the Miss and I know you have unbelievable power, but please also take care of yourself.”

She leaned in and gave Shard a kiss on his cheek.

“Is this something Galina asked you to give me as well?”

“Of course not.”

Tifa shook her head slightly, her bangs swaying:

“This kiss is from me, wishing you well on your journey… As for my thanks for that rose… Next time you visit the manor, would you be willing to join me in that secluded corridor again?”

Despite her shyness, Tifa still looked up, her black eyes gleaming, her fair skin and the curve of her lips were quite enticing.

Shard quickly remembered the secluded corridor where a candle had been kicked over, feeling his face heat up:

“Just five minutes again?”

Her eyes curved into a smile:

“This time, it can be ten minutes. So, you must come back safely.”

After bidding farewell to Miss Maid, Shard entered Sicarl Mountain through the Ruined Tower and then headed down the mountain amidst dense fog. The witches were likely to depart for the Interstice around ten in the morning, so Shard, having written a letter the day before to make an appointment, met Sister Delphine at the House of the Blind before they left.

He had already discussed the matter concerning The Chosen One with her, so there was no need for further talk. Shard was here to ask the nun for help, to have the “Spiritual Practice Order” open another passage for him to enter the Interstice alone.

“Why not travel with the witches?”

The nun stood by the window, hands clasped and lowered in front of her, softly asking with her head bowed. Behind her was the sprawling fog of Milestone. The City Hall had issued a martial law decree, obviously to coordinate with the Church’s actions.

“There are some things I don’t want the witches to know about.”

For a moment, Shard thought he saw a smile on the nun’s face, but upon closer inspection, she remained expressionless as usual.

Lifting her head slightly, her silver-grey hair, styled in an intricate fashion, flowed over her back. Her silver blindfold faced Shard, still astonishing in its elegant design:

“Mr. Hamilton, you’re partaking in an epic.”

“No, I’m only here to witness the epic. The main characters are you all, I’m merely an audience member in this scene.”

This time, the nun really did smile, a shallow and gentle smile beneath her eye patch:

“The way you’re fully armed right now, you don’t look at all like a mere spectator.”

Shard glanced at himself—his waist belted with two guns, his back carrying the “Soul Fishing Rod,” his left hand holding the “Night Watchman,” his right fingers nearly filled with rings, and his neck adorned with the Witch’s Golden Necklace. His bulging coat was stuffed with an assortment of toys and relics.

“No need to explain, Mr. Hamilton. Perhaps others may see you as merely an external spectator to fate, but as the keeper of the Fire of the Primordial, I can see that you are the hero of this world.”

It was the first time someone had referred to Shard in that way:

“I’m no hero.”

The nun didn’t argue:

“I am the Firekeeper who guards the Primal Fire. I seek firewood, I search for new sources of fire, and the Primal Fire in turn feeds the world’s power back to me. The Spirit of the world is alerting me that many incredible things will happen tonight.”

“Then, do you know who the deceased Chosen One is?”

Shard asked, and the nun shook her head slightly:

“Perhaps the answer is completely different from what you expect.”

The overlap between the Interstice and the real world now was much greater than when Shard first came to Midshire Fort. Therefore, opening a gateway to the Interstice didn’t require the same complexity as when rescuing Priest Augustus.

Sister Delphine needed to accompany the Witches to the waist of Interstice Mountain, but she arranged for three other High Ring Nuns of the Order to assist Shard. Moreover, she divided a portion of her flame, sealing it inside an old-fashioned, portable kerosene lamp acquired in a trade from Sin Mansion.

The lamp was a relic that could store any form of flame. Now housing a part of the Primal Fire, the thin flame danced quietly inside the lamp, giving the already antique bronze-colored kerosene lamp an even more time-worn and historical appearance.

The Order could send Shard into the Interstice, but leaving the Interstice required guidance from the Primal Fire. Now that Sister Delphine was preoccupied and couldn’t watch over Shard, giving him part of the flame was currently the best option.

Saying goodbye to Sister Delphine on the fog-laden streets, the nun’s carriage quickly disappeared into the thick fog. Unexpectedly, Shard found that the Primal Fire kerosene lamp in his hand could slightly dispel the fog around him.

“But carrying a kerosene lamp around sure doesn’t make it easier to fight.”

Sister Delphine would notify the others of the Spiritual Practice Order to prepare for opening a one-time-use gateway to the Interstice, while all Shard needed to do was wait patiently for news inside the House of the Blind.

The city wasn’t under martial law but travel was restricted, so even within the House of the Blind, there weren’t many visually impaired citizens coming for help. Sister Michelle, who was in charge of managing the House of the Blind, arranged a private rest room on the top floor for Shard. Thus, Shard turned Mia back into her true cat form, holding the cat and reading the “Book of Pink,” passing the time in the morning.

The city was quiet, and the autumn daylight couldn’t penetrate the white fog laden with Whisper elements. Beyond the dense fog, the True God Church, Magic Academy, Witch Council, and even those Circle Sorcerer groups whose names Shard didn’t know, were surely in action.

When Shard occasionally lifted his gaze from the knowledge of his books to look out the window, he wondered about the actors on the unknowable stage of fate, whether they were aware, whether centuries later, people would have some kind of judgment about today.

The city was quiet in the morning, aside from a squad of soldiers passing through Ruff Lane, nothing else happened.

After lunch, the cat lay down for a nap beside Shard, and Shard put away the parchment, instead taking out the “Book of Wild Thunder” to continue reading. This was a book on a thunder-type Spirit Rune, prepared by Saint Byrons for Shard, as part of the second-year curriculum.

At half past one in the afternoon, a knock on the door temporarily halted Shard’s study session. However, it wasn’t that the Spiritual Practice Order had prepared to “open the door,” but rather, Sister Michelle needed Shard’s help with something.

The situation was as follows: that morning, Mr. Beirut, who lived in the southern city district of Midshire Fort, visited the House of the Blind to receive treatment and psychological counseling. Due to the fog growing thicker at noon, the carriage that was supposed to pick him up didn’t show up, so Mr. Beirut, who teaches at a school for the blind, decided to rest there over lunchtime.

But one hour into his nap, the servants at the House of the Blind couldn’t wake him up. After an examination by Circle Sorcerers, they discovered he had dreamt himself into the Interstice.

“Do I need to venture into the Interstice to retrieve him?”

Shard asked, surprised, pointing to himself.

“Finding someone who has dreamt into the Interstice doesn’t require physically entering it. The Order has established procedures, but at least a Circle Sorcerer of the Sixth Ring or above is needed to perform the ritual at the risk of their spirit being contaminated by the Interstice.”

Sister Michelle seemed somewhat troubled; the House of the Blind was the Order’s local stronghold, and she was the highest-ranked member there, while most of the others were of the Low Ring.

“I understand, then I shall do it; it’s merely a small favor.”

As he spoke, he put down the book and stood up, startling the cat on the sofa. It opened one eye to look at Shard and quickly got up to follow him when it saw he was leaving.

When this cat yawned, its mouth opened exceptionally wide.

Rescuing ordinary people dreamt into the Interstice was done through a kind of “Necromancy,” reversing the process so that the living in reality could see the dream’s scenes and then communicating with the dreamer to wake them.

Even lying down wasn’t necessary for Shard; he sat on a chair with a backrest by the bed, and after drinking a magic potion marked with the emblem of the Spiritual Practice Order, he placed his hand on Mr. Beirut’s forehead, who was asleep.

The Low Ring nun from the House of the Blind, eyes wrapped in burlap, lit the room’s incense, while Sister Michelle unfolded a parchment in front of Shard.

He leaned back in his chair, his eyes fixed on the parchment with the strange image that resembled a goat yet also a unicorn, and his mind gradually became groggy as he fell into a semi-conscious state.

He could sense that he was still sitting in the chair, but he also saw the blurred landscape of the Interstice.

His gaze followed Mr. Beirut as he ascended Sicarl Mountain, running up the stone steps. Ahead of him, in the misty blur, the transparent silhouette of a woman kept moving forward. The surroundings seemed very familiar; dark forests stood tall on both sides of the stone steps, which were as dilapidated as if no one had set foot on them for a hundred years.

“Are they heading for the peak of Sicarl Mountain?”

There were not absent of human activity around, ritualistic traces laid out by the Church decorated both sides of the mountain steps, and even each step was engraved with Divine Runes. There were no Evil Spirits in the surrounding dense fog because a large team of Circle Sorcerers from the Church of the Five Gods was conducting the final checks for the ritual.

But these living beings delving into the Interstice paid no attention to Mr. Beirut and the woman’s soul up ahead. After all, the former was simply dreaming, not even as realistically as Shard the day before, while the latter was just a phantom born from longing.

Souls that linger in the Interstice can’t step through the three passages and pass into death. However, phantoms created by longing can lead the living into death. Once someone in the realm of dreams follows their longing into a fall, then Mr. Beirut would truly be dead. There have been urban legends about this in Midshire Fort since long ago, but such incidents have become more frequent recently.