In the Evernight Realm, no one ate the fish.
It wasn’t just that the dead souls had a corrosive, acid-like effect on the human psyche; it was more about a deep-seated reverence for the deceased. Outside the Evernight Realm, the fish were perfectly normal.
Ed-Bear tossed a dead fish back into the river. He turned to set up his cooking gear, slowly reducing a bottle of wine into barely half a cup of concentrate. Once the alcohol evaporated, there wasn’t much nutrition left.
Helen drank a small cup of the grape reduction, her lips stained a deep purple. Against her deathly pale face, she looked like a little pixie. She was growing weaker by the hour.
Ed-Bear watched her, saying bluntly, “You’re fading. If we don’t find food soon, you’ll have to eat my fingers.”
He could grow non-toxic tentacles that tasted decent enough. If it truly came down to it, the little girl could survive by consuming parts of his body.
Helen was stunned, her mouth falling into a perfect ‘O.’ She stared blankly for a full minute before shaking her head violently. “No! I won’t eat you!”
Even though Ed-Bear repeatedly emphasized that it wasn’t human—that its body was transformed from mutton and would simply grow back—the girl continued to sob and shake her head. She refused to consume the flesh and blood of her savior.
“Is it not a waste to die for the sake of tedious morality?” Ed-Bear felt a flicker of irritation. “If you reach your limit, I will force you to eat. I won’t stop even if you have a breakdown.”
The “tedious morality” it spoke of was a shackle Wang Yue had imposed upon it, forcing it to care for a girl it had met by pure chance. It wasn’t born of instinct or personal ethics, yet the creature followed through without hesitation. The yoke of rules was fastened tight around the monster’s neck.
Tears rolled down Helen’s cheeks, carving clean streaks through the grime on her face like the glistening trails of a snail. Her fingers twisted her clothes into knots as she choked out, “I won’t do it… I’d rather die…”
She couldn’t imagine being saved by someone only to eat their fingers because she was hungry. Even the worst villains she had read about in books wouldn’t do something so ghastly. Her conscience was in a state of absolute turmoil.
Just as the two were locked in their grim dispute, a steep, solitary peak loomed ahead. Perched upon a rocky outcrop two or three hundred meters above the ground sat an isolated Blackstone Outpost. Lantern light illuminated the stone-framed windowpanes, and silhouettes moved within.
An explorer’s outpost!
Ed-Bear quickly rowed the raft toward the shore. He scooped Helen up and bounded up the spiral stone stairs, taking four or five steps at a time as he ascended the mountain. The little girl rested her head against his chest, listening to the strange, echoing resonance of air passing through six lungs.
The Blackstone Outpost was a sturdy fortress of rock. Its copper-clad oak door was thick and reinforced, and above the lintel hung the emblem of the Explorers’ Guild—the silhouette of a hooded Lantern-Bearer in profile.
When the door opened, a wave of light and warmth rushed out. The interior was divided into a living area and a sleeping quarters, separated by a screen. Along the walls of the living area, four or five people sat or lay on a row of mats. The bedroom was dark, filled with bunk beds where others were sleeping.
Two strange figures sitting by the window caught Ed-Bear’s attention.
Both wore high-quality black hooded robes. Unlike those of a witch, their robes were wide, heavy, and made of a dense, supple material. The fabric fell in layers like clouds flowing down a mountain, trailing onto the floor. It wasn’t a textile Ed-Bear recognized.
The one facing the door was a man, standing well over two meters tall—a literal giant. Something hidden beneath his robes made his shoulders as broad as a barn door. Beneath the hood was a young face with a sharp chin and narrow eyes, yet he didn’t look mean; rather, he possessed a non-human, refined elegance.
His eyebrows and hair consisted of bright yellow lacquered strands. His pupils were I-shaped recesses, occasionally flickering with a streak of intense light. The hands he had placed on the table were entirely different from a human’s; the skin looked like a transparent hard shell, with a viscous fluorescent liquid flowing inside, interlaced with conduits that glowed like molten silver.
The robed figure with their back to the door was equally bulky and even taller, standing nearly three meters. Based on the voice, it was a woman. Seven or eight lumps bulged from the back of her robes, hiding some sort of device. Every so often, a glimmering spore would drift out from her clothes.
Ed-Bear also noticed that every explorer in the outpost carried a “Candle” or a “Lamp.” Some even had several lanterns of various sizes and designs on their person.
The man who opened the door for Ed-Bear was a tall explorer with coarse hair and a beard. He looked down at Ed-Bear, his expression shifting from confusion to certainty. “Your Excellency… you aren’t human, are you?”
Instantly, a dozen gazes snapped toward the door, a mix of suspicion, hostility, curiosity, and guardedness.
Ed-Bear wasn’t surprised. After removing its heavy coat, its disguise was thin at best; it wasn’t hard to see through its identity. “That depends on how you define ‘human,'” it replied in a low voice.
The man, Voss, narrowed his eyes as he locked onto Ed-Bear. His hand tensed, fingers resting on the mechanism at the base of his lantern. With a slight twist, the light would flare.
When dealing with monsters in the Evernight Realm, Mental Pollution was the first thing to guard against. Once a person’s mind was wounded, no matter how strong the body or how powerful the Relic, they would become helpless.
“If I am not welcome, please look after this child,” Ed-Bear said, looking down at Helen. “I will leave immediately.”
“Let him in, Voss. This gentleman bears no ill will,” the person by the window suddenly spoke. The voice was clear and melodic, like a musical instrument.
“But, Lord Aurora…” The bear-like man seemed to hold the speaker in high regard.
“Strictly speaking, I am not human either,” the figure by the window said with a faint smile.
“My apologies.” The tall man actually apologized for the slight, stepping back to give Ed-Bear room to enter.
Ed-Bear didn’t understand their jargon, but it didn’t matter. Its only concern was Helen. Now that they had found people, Helen’s situation would stabilize; she no longer needed it.
He placed the little girl on a mat stuffed with buckwheat hulls, which rustled pleasantly with her every movement.
Voss, the outpost manager, led Ed-Bear to a row of crates after hearing he wanted to buy food. He opened a lid to reveal racks of cured meat, cheese, hardtack, and potato flour—all long-lasting supplies. There were also slightly dehydrated fruits and vegetables: star fruit, lemons, and amaranth.
“Transport is difficult here. Just don’t buy us out,” Voss said.
“Do you have medicine? She’s sick,” Ed-Bear asked.
“We have salves and mental soothing potions, but nothing for a fever.” Voss shook his head and suggested, “There’s a town nearby. Take her to the clinic there.”
“In which direction?”
Voss laughed. “Why do you think the outpost was built so high? Go look outside.”
Ed-Bear pushed the door open and looked out from the rocky ledge. Sure enough, he saw dots of light in the distant darkness. There were four major clusters of lights, meaning there were four human settlements nearby. Three were far from the river, but one sat downstream.
Ed-Bear’s prediction had been correct. Even without the outpost, a few more hours of drifting would have brought them to a riverside town.
Relieved, it returned to the outpost. It sliced the star fruit and bread, added a slice of ham, and handed the sandwich to Helen. The little girl tore into the sandwich with all her might.
The bread was hard and the star fruit was sour, but she couldn’t stop. She swallowed greedily, her small teeth gnashing, her eyes shining like a hungry little beast. As her stomach filled, a sense of profound satisfaction washed over her.
She had never tasted anything so delicious. Even cream puffs or chocolate cake weren’t a ten-thousandth as wonderful as this hard bread and sour fruit. Tears of disbelief welled in her eyes as she experienced, for the first time in her life, the incredible fulfillment of a full stomach.
“Don’t choke,” Ed-Bear said, handing her a cup of water.
Looking around, the other explorers were resting in silence, showing signs of extreme fatigue. Several were injured, their wounds strange and ominous—some even seemed to have split open from the inside out. They had been stitched and slathered in disinfectant, but the swelling remained.
Only the two by the window were still talking.
“Wright, have you decided?”
“I’m still short three experts in stealth… but I have candidates in mind. We will pass through the Forest of Rotting Carcasses and the Upside-Down Mountain to enter the Abandoned Land.”
“To lead them to their deaths?”
“Don’t be so pessimistic, Aminata. People die every day. After so many years of paying respects to fallen friends, my heart has long been emptied of sorrow. Sacrifice is merely the final brick in the tower of life—the piece that makes it complete.”
“It won’t lead to anything…”
The subsequent words grew lower and lower until they became a strange whisper, faintly resembling a prayer.
“Through me, you enter the city of woefulness; through me, you enter the pit of eternal pain; through me, you enter the people lost for aye… Those who face the Apostles, abandon all hope…”
