Chapter 30: Magic Mirror, Magic Mirror
Old Hans, leading the non-combat personnel and ordinary sailors, busied themselves in the shipyard. Meanwhile, Salman, at the helm of thirty main combat members, secured lodgings at the Rosemary Inn, a nearby establishment.
In a secluded courtyard, Byron encountered Salman, who had just shooed away a gaudily dressed streetwalker with a huff. "Ignoring my charm, I see you're definitely not up to it," the woman grumbled as they crossed paths. Byron paid her no heed, entering the courtyard without a sideways glance.
After exchanging greetings, Byron laid out the modification plan for the ship, which had received Old Hans's approval.
Salman chuckled, "Mr. Byron, I knew I wasn't wrong about you. Though I'm no expert in shipbuilding, I can see the promise in this new sail design. Let Old Hans and the crew do their best."
"Don't pay mind to the ship's gossip; what's the significance of a first mate position? Once 'Man-Eater' expands its crew and captures a second pirate ship, truly becoming a pirate fleet, you, Byron Tudor, will undoubtedly be the first captain under my command!"
As expected, Salman embraced the pirate ship modification plan without hesitation, feeling vindicated. Yet, beyond verbal encouragement, he offered Byron no tangible rewards.
"You flatter me, Captain; this is my duty. We all work for the greater good, and in the grand scheme of our pirate fleet, my personal gains and losses are inconsequential. Tonight, I plan to prepare fan scallops, braised prawns, and sheep's offal soup with dark beer for you. Then, I'll move to the shipyard to oversee the construction and ensure everything is executed flawlessly."
Byron "considerately" accepted the grand vision Salman painted, volunteering for additional responsibilities without a second thought.
"By the way, I'll use my free time to study Bloody Mary's Culinary Recipe again. Its recipes have been quite enlightening, even more so than those I already know. If you'll excuse me."
With a customary bow, Byron turned to leave, the door creaking shut behind him.
Salman watched Byron's retreating figure, the pain that plagued him even before nightfall prompting a deep sigh. "The greater good... what a model crew member, considering the greater good, a hundred times more valuable than all the others combined. The more time passes, the more indispensable you become. I wish I could find another chef worthy enough to be consumed by the Recipe in your stead, but my curse cannot wait any longer."
Had he not been certain that Byron was not a supernatural individual of some sequence, he might have suspected the noble steward was actually a loyal knight, adhering strictly to all eight virtues and knightly precepts.
At that moment, his emotions were a tangled web, eager for the Transformation Blood yet hoping Byron could endure a while longer. The slower one is consumed by Bloody Mary's Culinary Recipe, the higher the quality of the Transformation Blood, and the greater the chance of alleviating his suffering.
"Mr. Byron, you're so considerate of the greater good, surely you won't blame me, will you?"
Unfortunately, this pirate captain, who could only mimic aristocratic manners poorly and never grasped the essence of aristocratic power struggles, remained unaware. In this world, ruled by nobles where the strong prey on the weak, only those who benefit from the status quo speak of "considering the greater good" so frequently.
If someone appears not to benefit on the surface, then they... must be the greater good itself!
Night soon fell.
In another corner of the pirate port, a group of cloaked figures emerged from their inn and blended into the intoxicated throngs on the street, indistinguishable from the countless pirates reveling in entertainment venues.
They halted by the sea, just a street away from the Rosemary Inn, and swiftly entered a seemingly dilapidated windmill. The massive windmill groaned and turned incessantly, its noise drowning out their hushed conversations. They were evidently cautious.
Upon reaching the crude second floor, constructed from wooden boards, Captain Wester of the 'White Crystal' promptly instructed his crew to scrub the area clean. He approached the window, gazing at another building not far away.
"Finger Monkey, is that the place?"
The short young man, with a scar marring his already unattractive face, nodded. "No mistake, our lookout has confirmed it multiple times. It's in the Rosemary Inn, just one street away. The straight-line distance won't exceed a hundred meters; your spell can exert its full power here."
By the time they finished speaking, the pirates had polished the old wooden boards to a shine with special potions, leaving Wester, who suffered from severe obsessive-compulsive disorder, unable to find any fault.
"Very well, you may leave. Keep watch outside and ensure no one disturbs me during the ritual," 'Magic Mirror' Wester said, dismissing Finger Monkey and the other crew members with a wave of his hand.
Alone, he produced a canvas bag and began to set up the ritual on the floor.
Most 'Forbidden Knowledge' is essentially ritual witchcraft. Through specific rituals, one's spirituality establishes a connection with certain world rules, spiritual entities, unknown higher beings, etc., temporarily retreating from self-consciousness to resonate with the higher being, unleashing powerful abilities that transcend one's own limitations or that one does not possess.
Wester began by inscribing a pentagram on the floor with a mixture of sea salt and white crystal powder. He then positioned candles of red, blue, yellow, green, and black at the five points, representing fire, water, wind, earth, and the fifth element, spirit. In front of him, he arranged five bottles of plant essential oils, each with its own symbolic meaning.
Deer's foot herb stood for protection, healing, and dispelling magic. Wormwood symbolized mental strength, protection, and the summoning of spiritual entities. Skunk cabbage was associated with legal matters. Mugwort represented mental strength, prophetic dreams, and starlight projection. Foxtail symbolized love and the hunt.
Finally, he placed a half-person-tall silver mirror at the center of the pentagram and knelt before it, slowly slipping into a meditative state.
As the cacophony of the pirate city outside began to wane, the hour crept silently towards one in the morning.
'Magic Mirror' Wester's eyes snapped open, the silver spiritual radiance within them casting an ethereal glow across the mill's second floor.
"The time has come," he declared, producing a silver tinderbox to light the ritual candles at the pentagram's points. He then dripped the five types of herbal essential oils onto the flames of the corresponding candles.
Whoosh!
A spiritual wind swept through the mill, erecting an invisible barrier that shielded against mystical scrying. The skunk cabbage, representing "legal matters," took effect, causing the laws of Iron Anchor Bay to relinquish their basic surveillance over the area.
From the canvas bag, he withdrew a "bloodstained" white cloth, Finger Monkey's trophy. Alcohol evaporates much faster than water, and by the time the assassin had found his captain, his body heat had nearly evaporated all the alcohol, leaving behind only the 'Transformation Blood' and Blood Eye Salman's blood dissolved in the rum, with a faint lingering scent of alcohol.
Even Wester, with his severe obsessive-compulsive disorder, detected nothing amiss. After all, isn't the scent of rum perfectly normal for pirates?
He soaked the white cloth in rose hydrosol and traced a fragrant, bloody circle on the surface of the silver mirror. The temperature on the second floor plummeted. Despite the candlelight, the mirror's surface quickly dulled to an inky blackness, as if a shadow were churning in another realm behind the glass.
The mill's surroundings distorted and seemed to collapse towards the mirror's surface, drawn by the candlelight, as if everything were about to be sucked into the mirror.
Wester's expression remained impassive as he chanted in Runic:
("Magic mirror on the wall, who is the fairest one of all?")
"Magic Mirror, Magic Mirror, hear my plea, where hides the enemy from me, show them to be!" he intoned three times.
From the depths of the impenetrable darkness within the mirror, a pair of silver eyes suddenly opened—a mirror demon!
Just as 'Transformation Blood' is the core of various 'Blood Brew' recipes in the same series, all methods of 'Magic Mirror Divination' are also based on this 'Mirror Demon.'
The instant Wester's gaze met that of the mirror demon, he closed his eyes and slumped gently to the floor. The effects of the other four herbal essential oils—summoning spiritual entities, starlight projection, hunting, and dispelling magic—manifested in sequence.
Amidst the rich fragrance, the 'Mirror Demon' took on a human-like form, flickering like a skipped frame before diving into the depths of the mirror world. In reality, it used the mirror world as a conduit to enter another mirror surface just a street away!
Chapter 31: Help Me!
In the secluded corner of the Rosemary Inn's courtyard, the remnants of a feast lay scattered across the table—dishes half-eaten, cups and plates in disarray. The elite pirates of the 'Man-Eater' lay sprawled on the ground, their snores echoing like the rumble of distant thunder.
Only First Mate 'Bone Crusher' Miles and a handful of pirate officers remained upright, perched on chairs, their revelry continuing unabated. "Cheers!" they roared, raising their cups. "Let's not let those useless lot spoil our fun. Onward with the drinking!"
"Haha! A true warrior's mark is their appetite for both food and drink. These fools have none," another chimed in, his words slurred with mirth and mead.
Strangely, these pirates had noticed their appetites growing insatiable with time. They consumed more and more, their tolerance for alcohol increasing in tandem. The stronger they became, the more pronounced this change was. Those still sober were undoubtedly the crème de la crème.
Tonight, Byron had prepared a feast for Salman—fan scallops, braised prawns, and a rich sheep's offal soup. After the officers had their fill, they continued their banquet. Had they not feared Salman's wrath, they might have even summoned a bevy of buxom wenches to join in their drunken debauchery.
"The captain has finally decided to tap into our reserves. This 'Battle Blood' is beyond price," one officer remarked, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.
"I feel it, too—my injuries are nearly healed, and my strength is growing," another added, flexing his burly arms. "At this rate, I might just be able to hoist the yardarm by myself one day."
They drank rum laced with 'Transformation Blood' and Salman's essence. With Byron's high-quality 'Transformation Blood' nearing completion, Salman had decided to unlock his reserves, accelerating the "feeding" of these long-cultivated assets.
The pirates, uneducated and unaware, had no inkling of the changes occurring within them. The 'Transformation Blood' was, in essence, a potion of metamorphosis and replacement. Should they all become secondary ghouls, their reliance on human flesh would bind them to Salman's control, akin to the man-eating sharks haunted by their curses. The worst fate would be to become sustenance for 'ghouls,' while a slightly better one would see them as unwilling yet fearless guards.
The ship's boatswain clinked glasses with First Mate Miles, his jest cutting through the air: "I heard that new lad presented the captain with a new sail modification design. Came out empty-handed, didn't he? How can a greenhorn like him compare to us, the loyal veterans?"
"Let's raise a glass to our esteemed first mate," another officer chimed in. "Once you're a supernatural, you can make that lad dance to your tune. What does it matter if he racks up achievements? The captain's blood wine still isn't for his lips, is it? Though, I must say, the dishes that lad prepares are exquisite, a perfect pairing for this 'Battle Blood'..."
"To our eternal first mate!" the chorus rose, their glasses clinking in unison.
Yet, these officers were no fools. They understood that a capable leader could expand their horizons, enriching all who followed. But they were the most deserving to become "supernatural." They feared Byron would not only usurp their positions but also their chance at becoming supernatural individuals. Their fears were as misplaced as an owl worrying a phoenix might steal its rotten mouse.
First Mate Miles laughed heartily, reveling in the support of his comrades. But as another glass of wine found its way down his throat, a sense of unease crept over him. The thunderous snores of the pirates on the ground had inexplicably ceased. Turning to investigate, his gaze was inexplicably drawn to the reflection in a glass on the floor. As his eyes locked onto it, a pair of silver eyes blinked back at him from within the mirror-like surface.
A sharp, icy pain pierced his forehead, as if an iron cone had been driven into his skull. Darkness enveloped his vision, and he crumpled to the ground, consciousness slipping away.
The officers around him, thinking Miles merely drunk, moved to assist him but soon followed suit, collapsing one by one into a stupor.
Meanwhile, 'Magic Mirror' Wester, now a mirror demon, felt a wave of confusion and a throbbing headache. He couldn't fathom why that single drop of blood was connected to so many. "Even if the target took precautions after their blood was taken and distributed it among many, the blood's directionality never changes. Their life essences are clearly converging. This must be because of another ritual!" he thought, bewildered. "They said the target was just an ordinary mortal..."
"Damn Yorks, even such crucial intelligence can be wrong. You're going to get me killed," Wester muttered under his breath, realizing the gravity of his situation.
Despite sensing that something was amiss, Wester was already entrenched in his ritual witchcraft. If he failed to eliminate his target completely, the mirror demon's curse would backfire onto him. Gritting his teeth, he pressed on with his deadly mission.
After dispatching the defenseless pirates, who were unable to withstand his incorporeal assaults, Wester, now mentally drained, utilized the reflective surfaces throughout the inn to silently approach his final target in the backyard room.
...
Salman's spiritual alarm jolted him awake from his feigned slumber. "Hmm?" he pondered, having planned to sneak out after the revelry ended to sate his hunger on one or two pirates, easing the symptoms of his curse.
To his surprise, the pirates with whom he had established a spiritual bond had vanished from his perception within mere moments. As he opened his eyes, the room's mirror darkened ominously. The attack was imminent.
Salman attempted to roll off the bed, relying on his old pirate instincts to dodge, but felt as though a thousand-pound weight pinned him down, rendering him incapable of even twitching a finger.
Through the supernatural individual's 'Spiritual Vision,' a shadowy figure loomed over him, ghostly hands clamping down on his neck. The cold aura spread rapidly, threatening to freeze his consciousness.
With the ritual ambush in place, Wester held a significant advantage, even against another second-tier supernatural individual.
"Wh...o...are...you? Why...attack...me?!" Salman's consciousness ground to a halt, each word requiring Herculean effort.
Wester, however, was in no mood for conversation. The deer's foot herb's dispelling effect had suppressed Salman's spirituality, but the effort of killing over thirty mortal pirates had depleted Wester's strength to its limits.
"Finger Monkey, that idiot, got the target wrong!" Wester seethed. "Is this a mortal? This is clearly a second-tier 'Professional' supernatural individual! Fuck, when I get back, I'll make you pay!"
Roar! An inhuman roar shattered Wester's tirade.
Salman owed his transformation to Byron's overfed purine bombs, which made the change easier. His joints cracked and popped as he reverted to his ghoulish form—hunched, pale-skinned, and reeking of death.
A thick, impenetrable bloody spiritual radiance exploded outward, forcing the mirror demon to retreat slightly.
Seizing the moment, Salman grabbed a glass bottle from the bedside table and gulped down the blood-red liquid within. This was no longer Bacardi rum, but the 'Transformation Blood' left by previous chefs—his reserves for the final transformation ritual.
Ability: 'Nourishment'! A fiery blood flame ignited, engulfing the mirror demon in its purifying blaze.
Salman, however, was not unscathed. The fat he had recently regained was burned away, more so than during his previous battle with 'Fortress Guardian' Harold. He was reduced to a skeleton wrapped in skin, collapsing to the ground with a clang, too weak to rise.
As the mirror demon, now severely injured, prepared to deliver the finishing blow, the door burst open. A young man with a sword rushed in, his voice laced with anxiety, "Captain, an enemy has attacked? Are you alright?"
Salman's heart leapt with joy at the sight of the newcomer. "Quick, Byron, come and help me!" he urged.
The mirror demon, no longer concerned with killing, dove into the mirror and fled, panic in its wake.
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