“Huh? My head doesn’t hurt anymore?”

After the shadows beneath the sea fled, the headache that had been tormenting Saul vanished as well.

But when he shook his head, it still felt like there was water sloshing around inside.

His left ear itched a little.

Saul tilted his head to the left, then gave his right ear a pat.

Splash!

A distinct sound of water flowing came from his left ear canal, and he immediately felt something slide out of his ear.

He raised his left hand just in time to catch it—something cold and slick dropped into his palm.

Looking down, he was surprised to see a single drop of black water.

The drop seemed incredibly dense, immediately pooling together in his palm like a pearl. When Saul tilted his hand, it quivered slightly, like jelly.

“So this is the water that got into my brain?”

Saul suddenly realized that it had been a while since the waves had slapped his face.

He carefully stood up and walked to the edge of the circular platform. Only then did he notice that the once-infinite ocean had somehow calmed, even the sound of waves had quieted.

“The platform seems to have risen a few meters… No, it’s the sea level that’s dropped. That’s actually good news.”

The danger, it seemed, had passed.

“Hm, from this angle, it kind of looks like the sea I saw during my first encounter with the golden page while I was unconscious.”

“Back then it was the golden page that pulled me out of the sea—not the mental realm. Why didn’t the diary respond today?”

Saul looked up and stretched out his right hand toward the sky.

The diary finally responded, descending from above.

As it landed in his palm, a thought struck him: Could it be… the diary just doesn’t like getting wet?

The self-mocking thought flashed through his mind, helping to ease the tension. Saul then looked down at the diary’s white pages, which were now inscribed with new text.

[Lunar Calendar Year 317, October 21st, Clear Skies]

After getting water in your brain,

You obtained a drop of pure Black Tide.

Use it with caution.

Remember this:

In a wizard’s world, pollution comes from the knowledge in your mind, the stars above your head…

…and the Black Tide within your heart.

Another rare item acknowledged by the diary!

No, it was more than just a rare item.

Judging from the diary’s tone, this was clearly one of the most terrifying things in this world.

“But where did this drop of Black Tide come from?” Saul looked back and forth between the Black Tide drop in his left hand and the diary in his right, pondering the origin of this rare yet dangerous material.

He thought back over the events of the past few days. “Right, it must’ve been caused by absorbing the pollution from those villagers and from Claude!”

“The ruthless instant-kill rule on those villagers probably stemmed from that pollution! Based on my previous experience, I assumed the pollution would be absorbed by the diary and the stars in the mental realm, and wouldn’t affect me. I never expected that once it entered my body, the pollution would condense into a drop of Black Tide—it almost drowned me.”

Saul closed the diary and reflected on his oversight.

“I used pollution absorption to save people and exchanged it for intelligence about the Borderland. But now it’s clear I was too careless. The pollution here is far worse and more dangerous than anything in the western regions. If I keep acting recklessly just because I have the diary, I’ll get myself killed sooner or later.”

Having learned a valuable lesson, Saul reviewed what he’d gained.

“Setting the intel aside, the Dream Bell is a pretty handy tool. But the most important thing is still this drop of Black Tide.”

“Claude remembered at the end—the reason his village had such a powerful kill-on-sight rule was because that rule had been recognized by the Borderland. But now it seems more accurate to say it was acknowledged by the Black Tide. So then why is the Borderland on par with the Black Tide?”

“Agu once warned me: when facing danger in the Borderland, always observe the rules of the area before deciding on a course of action. So does that mean any place with powerful rules is influenced by the Black Tide? Is the entire Borderland soaked in Black Tide?”

The diary had clearly stated: pollution comes from the Black Tide within.

If the Borderland is saturated with Black Tide, then no wonder it’s so dangerous!

He might’ve just stumbled upon something monumental.

Saul looked down from the platform again. The black tide had retreated so far that he couldn’t even make out its edge, and more of the starry sky now surrounded the circular platform on all sides.

“Time to go back.” Saul clenched the drop of Black Tide in his hand and was about to close his eyes and return to his body—when something caught his attention. “Wait… the diary just said today is the 21st? But it was the 17th when I got here. What happened to those three days?”

If he really had been trapped in the mental realm for that long, then outside, only Marsh was left… he must be worried sick by now.

Saul steadied himself, preparing for the worst, then finally closed his eyes.

Consciousness, return!

When Saul slowly opened his eyes, he found himself in a dim little room, a row of wooden bars right in front of him.

Beneath him was a cold stone floor; behind, a rough stone wall.

He looked around and sighed silently. “This is… not a great situation.”

Saul was locked inside a wooden cage barely tall enough for a person to crouch in!

“Must’ve been captured by someone while I was trapped in my mental form. Still, if all they did was lock me up…” Saul checked his body in the cramped space. Everything was intact, even his clothes hadn’t been tampered with. “Guess that’s a small mercy. I really need to stop casually absorbing pollution.”

“You’re awake?” came a raspy old woman’s voice from the shadows.

A terrifying face suddenly appeared outside the cage, squished tightly between the wooden bars.

Her face was wrinkled like a dried-up prune, with huge eyes and ears. Her thin, white hair was tied in a high knot, with a wiggling finger dangling from the tip like a charm.

When she spoke, her mouth stretched nearly to her ears.

“If you’d stayed unconscious any longer, I would’ve had to take you apart and see if anything was still useful.”

“Where’s my coachman?” Saul couldn’t sense her power level, but it likely wasn’t beyond Second Rank.

“Heh…” As the old woman opened her mouth, a foul, fishy smell wafted out—it was as if she had a salted fish stuck in her throat. “That coachman of yours has been asking about you nonstop these past few days. And now that you’re awake, you’re asking about him. How touching. He’s doing just fine—after a few days of watering, new mushrooms have started to grow on him.”

Saul’s eyes widened. “You planted him?”

“Hmm?” The old woman scratched her chin with a thick, calloused finger. “Now that’s not a bad idea.”

So he was still alive.

Saul relaxed his shoulders and subtly rubbed his left wrist under the sleeve of his robe.

There, hidden beneath a slight bulge in the skin, was the storage device he’d bought in Caugust City.

The fact that she hadn’t taken it gave him some reassurance.

“Who are you? Why did you capture me and my coachman?”

“‘Capture’ isn’t quite right,” the old woman twirled her finger and grinned playfully. “You two were trash I picked up while I was out. Some trash can still be useful. Others… I have to take them apart to see if they have any valuable components. As for me, just call me Old Witch. You don’t need to know anything else.”

Saul glanced left and right and found that there were over a dozen cages near his own.

Five of them had occupants—some human, some not. The rest were empty.

Two of the prisoners clearly radiated the aura of First Rank wizards.

So the old woman really was a Second Rank wizard.

Saul took a deep breath—and almost gagged from the stench. “Ms. Old Witch…”

“No honorifics,” she cut him off. “I don’t like phony respect from people who curse me in their hearts.”

“Alright then, Old Witch, what would it take for you to let me go?” Saul relaxed his shoulders again.

The old witch reached into the cage and dragged a coarse, bony finger along Saul’s chin. “The things I pick up are mine. I never let them go. I only take them apart… when they’re no longer useful.”

(End of Chapter)

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