Mystic Overlord: Reading Gives Strength
Chapter 110 - 111 The Seaside at Night

Chapter 110: Chapter 111 The Seaside at Night

The sun had dipped below the ocean’s horizon, leaving behind only a wisp of azure in the distant sky.

After bidding farewell to the priest, Ronald parted from the church.

He then made his way alone to the beach, walking along the shore as he quietly observed everything before him.

At this time, the fishermen of Serephis were not yet gathered to set out.

Moreover, several days of continuous murders had left the villagers too frightened to venture out during this hour.

Consequently, the entire beach was deserted.

It had seemingly become Ronald’s private promenade.

Naturally, according to what the investigators had said, he was now heading towards the spot where the investigators and the culprit had fought during the day, to clean up the remnants of their battle.

Following an intense fight, Willard and his team needed to rest.

Their plan was to return to Serephis and leave one person to rest, and once recovered, they would return to finish the cleanup, while the other two escorted the criminal back to Berunwich.

This left Ronald and Nicole to appear on the scene, with the latter being tasked with the menial job, which naturally fell to Ronald, the novice.

Safe, simple, and purely physical labor.

It was the perfect job for a newcomer to the Investigation Bureau.

Feeling that he was approximately in the right location, the black tome once again emerged from his sleeve:

"Its name is Styx,

The dark waters churn downward, meandering to the dim and perilous cliffs below.

..."

As the verses were chanted, a mist symbolizing ’Fury’ coalesced between his hands.

Ronald, even when alone, did not blatantly display his abilities; he still tried to ensure the secrecy of his spells.

Soon, his emotion-perception ability echoed a response in his heart.

He could clearly discern that, other than Serephis to his back, there was no other human activity.

It was not like the coincidences in movies or gaming novels where an enemy suddenly appears after everything is settled, or that some lurking danger remained.

His job was simply to clean up the aftermath of the battle between both sides.

After all, investigators are professional personnel handling arcane events.

Not to mention the person in charge of the Serephis affair.

—That was Mr. Willard.

According to the information Ronald had learned at the Investigation Bureau, Willard was one of only two ace investigators in Berunwich, rarer and more formidable than the elite tier to which Nicole belonged.

The designations of elite and ace were not mere titles.

Specifically, their use was akin to the gap between technical qualifications and actual job positions.

To be referred to by such titles within the Bureau demanded stringent requirements and had little to do with one’s current position.

—Take Nicole, for example.

An investigator who had successfully dealt with more than twenty hazardous incidents and independently handled at least five crisis events was eligible to be called an elite.

Advancing further.

That brings us to the title of ace, which Willard possessed.

Beyond the basic criteria of successfully managing over fifty hazardous events and independently addressing at least ten crisis situations, there existed a particularly exclusive requirement to be called an ace.

—To have experience in preventing a world-altering event.

Ignoring other nations for a moment.

To achieve such a formidable feat within the powerful and stable realms of Gride would be impossible with personal ability alone.

First and foremost, one must encounter such a crisis.

In a place like the Investigation Bureau, one would need to live long enough to get such an opportunity, and living that long meant dealing with even more arcane occurrences.

The difficulty in fulfilling these conditions and being called an ace was thus evident.

So it was only right that Willard was able to handle the incident in Seraphis properly.

But what truly deserves caution

is the creature that feasts on human viscera and could endure under Willard’s hand for so long...

Slowly walking by the sea, Ronald gradually drifted away from the fishing village behind him as he pondered.

And with his wandering, the last blue of the western seascape faded away.

—Night fell.

Unconsciously, the stars began to twinkle brightly in the pitch-black sky.

Perhaps because of the snowfall the previous day, everything in the sky seemed especially luminous, and the breeze carrying the ocean’s scent was weaker than before.

The fishing village behind him disappeared completely from view.

Walking at night, a time when the average person would find progress difficult, Ronald experienced no such problems.

Under the all-around enhancement of the Divine Comedy, his vision faced no interference in this environment, as if he were just an ordinary person stepping out for an evening stroll.

Whish—

The sound of receding tide came from beside him as rocks previously unseen began to expose themselves on the ground.

Judging by the time, it was indeed the hour of low tide.

Continuing for a while, Ronald came upon a startling sight.

About two hundred meters ahead, on what used to be a relatively flat surface, sudden scorch marks appeared, together with trenches formed by immense force. These were reminders that no bonfire party by the sea could have left behind.

Clearly, this was the site of the earlier battle.

"..."

"So this is basically a physical job?" Ronald’s expression fell, and he complained with a touch of resignation.

Normally, this kind of work would require a shovel.

Fortunately, Ronald had no need to do the heavy lifting himself.

The black mist from his hands conscientiously fell to the ground and surged forward, engulfing the chaos before him to bury any trace of the battle.

Sand and soil, readily available, filled the gouges in the ground.

Scorch marks and surface traces could be easily handled by washing them over several times with seawater.

The power of the black mist was not great, but it didn’t require Ronald’s own hands!

He picked a rock to sit on by himself and could even feel the dampness of the sea upon it.

Sitting alone by the seaside at night, he watched the indifferent black mist laboring below.

It felt quite nice...

Time slipped by, and with the effort of the tireless spell-created being, the area was essentially cleaned up.

Although on close inspection, some clues might still be discernible.

But in such a place, it’s unlikely anyone would come to scrutinize the ground.

Not to mention drawing a conclusion like, "There was a fight here involving those from the mysterious side."

Sitting on the stone, Ronald took off his shoes to shake out the sand, put them back on, and then hopped down from the rock.

Before him floated a clump of black mist.

It enveloped a variety of things found by accident while dealing with the ground, including spent bullet casings and bullets, ruptured metallic capsules, broken pieces of dagger, a notebook buried in the dirt...

"Hmm... wait a second!"

Ronald’s motion to throw all these items into the ocean stalled.

Because the mist worked autonomously, he wasn’t sure exactly what it dug up.

But here was a real find!

A cultist magician’s notebook?