"I have to complete a mission independently to become an official member?" Klein was taken aback. "But, we might not even have one mission a week, and it might not be easy."
Doesn't this mean that I'll need about a month or two to officially become a Nighthawk before I can get a promotion and a raise …
Old Neil took a whiff of the coffee and glanced at him.
"This is just a ritual between Nighthawks. After all, we stand at the forefront of fighting against Beyonder dangers. We definitely don't want our teammates to be children that need to be taken care of at all times. And this doesn't affect you from receiving the salary of an official member, obtaining the corresponding rights, and fulfilling the necessary obligations."
So it's a ritual to obtain the recognition of other Nighthawks … But, Mr. Neil, why did you emphasize that it doesn't affect my salary as an official member … Did I make it that obvious? Klein touched his face and smiled awkwardly.
He then asked, "Does it have to be a mission of Beyonder nature?"
"That should be the case, but your performance yesterday was rather outstanding. You cleverly killed a Beyonder that's at least a Sequence 8. I believe Frye and Royale have already acknowledged you. Therefore, Dunn might just assign you an ordinary mission." Old Neil suddenly sighed. "Doubling my salary? I'll never encounter something like that again in my life."
Klein laughed and took the initiative to mention his Sequence pathway.
"Mr. Neil, do you believe that the corresponding Sequence 8 of Seer is the real Clown?"
In fact, recalling the description on the confidential information, it was quite consistent.
A "job" that's good at skill-based combat …
"I can't guarantee you, but I think it's very likely. First of all, it matches the information. It's characterized by agile movements and skill-based combat. Second, other Sequence pathways have similar situations. Do you know what the corresponding Sequence 8 for Mystery Pryer is?" Old Neil asked with a chuckle.
"I don't know. It's not on the Church's information." Klein shook his head frankly.
Old Neil chuckled.
"I'm acquainted with the two old guys from the Machinery Hivemind. They jokingly mentioned that the corresponding Sequence 8 potion for Mystery Pryer is Combat Scholar. Did you hear that? Combat Scholar? Goddess, I don't like combat at all. It doesn't match the image of a Mystery Pryer at all!"
"It's understandable … Mystery Pryers seek the secrets behind things, and combat is one of them," Klein said after some thought.
"Alright, don't waste time. Continue with the mysticism course. You still have a lot of ritualistic magic to master. You still need to learn how to make charms and amulets." Old Neil finished making the coffee.
"Alright." Klein sat down and arranged the time for today in his mind.
In the morning, he would study mysticism, read through all kinds of historical materials, and submit a reimbursement application. After lunch, he would go to the Shooting Club to practice. Then, he would head to the Deweyville Library in the Golden Indus Borough to see if he could borrow academic monographs and corresponding journals related to the Hornacis main peak. After doing all this, if he had time, he would go to the Divination Club. He couldn't slack off in the slightest when "acting."
When the application was approved and he received the fees, he would buy a formal suit on the way home.
Yes, I'll apply for the materials tomorrow morning and attempt to make an amulet for Melissa and Baansen that can avert disaster.
…
In an elegantly decorated dining room with a chandelier hanging from the ceiling.
A few friends were congratulating Joyce Mayer on his escape from disaster and his return to Tingen.
"We've all seen the newspapers. Just the description is frightening," a man with a short beard said wistfully. A man with a short beard said emotionally, "Joyce, it's hard to believe that you've experienced such things and suffered such hardships. Cheers, the bad luck is gone. The sun shines on us, and the steam above."
Joyce and his fiancée, Anna, raised their glasses in unison and clinked them with their friends. Then, they downed the remaining champagne in one gulp.
"Anna has been extremely worried these past few days. I suspect that she's been crying every night. When I invited her for afternoon tea, her mind would wander off. Thankfully, you have finally returned. Otherwise, I suspect she would have died just like that." A young lady with brown hair coiled up glanced at Anna and said to Joyce. She had a petite and adorable nose.
"If Anna had encountered something similar, I would have done the same, or even lost my composure." Joyce, who had a hooked nose, looked at his fiancée with a gentle gaze.
Anna wasn't used to showing her emotions in front of others. She glanced at the other end of the long table and said, "Bogda, why do you keep your head lowered?
"Bogda, why do you keep your head down? I can sense that you're in a bad mood."
The young lady with a petite nose answered on his behalf, "Bogda is sick.
The physician told him that there's a huge problem with his liver. Medicine can only reduce the pain, but it can't really be treated. He needs to undergo surgery. "
"Lord, when did this happen?" Anna and Joyce asked in surprise and concern.
Bogda was a young man with light, short hair. His face was sallow, and his usually shrewd red eyes were tainted with dullness.
"It happened last week. As Joyce hasn't returned yet, I told Erin and the rest not to tell you," Bogda explained with a bitter smile.
Joyce asked in a staid manner,
"Have you decided when you want to undergo the surgery?"
Bogda's expression fluctuated a few times.
"No, I haven't made up my mind. As you know, those surgeons are practically butchers. The person performing the surgery is like a piece of meat on a chopping board, to be casually slaughtered by them! I've seen many reports. They even use axes to perform amputations! Lord, I suspect I will die on the operating table. "
"But if this drags on, perhaps the surgery won't be able to save you," the man with a short beard persuaded.
At this moment, Anna suddenly interrupted.
"Bogda, perhaps you can consider doing a divination. If the divination shows that everything is going well, then hurry up with the surgery. If the divination doesn't turn out well, find another way and follow the divination master's instructions. I know a real, magical divination master. No, I should call him a Seer. I believe he will definitely be able to help you. "
"Really?" Bogda asked with obvious suspicion. Their other friends shared a similar attitude.
"Really." Anna nodded without hesitation. "I got him to do a divination on Joyce's situation. Then, he told me to return home. Your fiancé is waiting for you at home. Back then, I was just like all of you, filled with doubts. But when I returned home, I really saw Joyce. He really came back!"
"I can attest to that," agreed Joyce.
He didn't mention that he had gone to ask for a dream interpretation because the police had told him that Tris hadn't been caught yet. Therefore, he had to keep the secret to prevent any retaliation.
"Lord, this is unbelievable!"
"Is divination really that magical?"
…
Amidst the exclamations, Bogda pondered for a moment before saying, "Perhaps I really should do a divination.
"Maybe I really should get a divination. Anna, Joyce, can you tell me the Seer's address and name?"
Anna heaved a sigh of relief.
"You have made a wise choice."
"That Seer is at the Divination Club on Howes Street."
"His name is Klein Moretti."
…
Golden Indus Borough, Deweyville Library.
Klein used the introductory letter his mentor had given him to successfully apply for a library card.
As he flipped through the tiny card in his hand, he asked the librarians, "Do you have 'Research on the Hornacis Main Peak'?
It's published by the Rouen Publishing House. " One of the librarians immediately replied, "Do you have 'Research on the Hornacis Main Peak'?
One of the librarians immediately replied, "Please wait a moment.
"Please wait a moment, I'll look for it."
He turned around and faced the drawers. He pulled out the one that corresponded to the first letter of "Hornacis." Following that, he flipped through a few cards filled with words in a certain pattern.
After looking through them carefully, he shook his head.
"I'm sorry, sir. We don't have this book in our collection."
"What a pity," Klein replied in disappointment.
From the looks of it, I can only write to Rouen Publishing House or return to Khoy University …
At the same time, he sighed inwardly. He lamented that the World's libraries were still managed in ancient ways.
You need a computer. Unfortunately, I don't have a car … Klein gave a self-deprecating remark.
He then asked, "Do you have journals like New Archaeology or Archaeology Review?"
"Yes," the librarian answered with certainty. "A gentleman just returned it."
He flipped through the corresponding cards again and pointed out the bookshelves to Klein.
Klein came over and scanned through the serial numbers. He then pulled out the few books his mentor had mentioned.
Then, he randomly found a seat by the window and sat down. Under the bright afternoon sun, he began reading the materials in the quiet library.
"… Ancient ruins not only exist on the main peak of the Hornacis mountain range, but they also exist in the forests, valleys, and slopes around the main peak …
"… These ruins are formed by towering domes and gigantic stone pillars. They can be directly described as' magnificent '…
"… What's puzzling is how did the natives mine and grind these stones? First, let's assume that they mined on the spot and didn't need to transport them up the mountain …
"… There's a strange pattern. The closer one is to the mountain peak, the grander the ruins. But what's surprising is that there are no ruins on the mountain peak. According to our inference, there should be a palace that doesn't look like it was built by humans. It should be a temple used for sacrifices …"
A palace that doesn't look like it was built by humans … A temple used for sacrifices … Could it be the one I saw in my dream? Amidst his thoughts, he suddenly heard a few footsteps approaching from afar.
He looked up and saw a familiar face, a face that often appeared in the newspapers.
He had a squarish face, thick eyebrows, a sharp nose, short dark blonde hair, blue eyes, and tightly pursed lips. All of these belonged to a famous person in Tingen. He was a philanthropist, an entrepreneur, and the owner of the library, Sir Deweyville.
Beside Deweyville was the middle-aged butler that Klein had seen before.
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