Chapter 63: Us and the Sea (II)

Morning light pierced the sea mist, and the dice of a new day began to roll across the wooden table.

Jiang Ming listened to the *clatter-clatter* of the bone, silently counting in his head.

Twelve times—that was the total number of rolls yesterday. According to the Secret Keeper’s initial words, it would take twenty rounds to reach the finish line.

This meant that if things went smoothly today, they would be able to see the island known as Colchis and the Evil Dragon entrenched upon it before nightfall.

The closer they got, the clearer the unease in his heart became, like an undercurrent beneath a layer of ice.

He couldn’t guess what Lilith and Beelzebub were really up to.

If they just wanted to stop him or catalyze Elvira into a new Angel, they had countless more direct methods. Why go through all the trouble of setting up this barrier and dragging him into this role-playing game?

‘I can’t figure it out.’

The clues were shattered like a mirror dropped on the floor; every fragment reflected a different possibility, but they couldn’t be pieced together into a complete picture. He rubbed the space between his brows, suppressed his irritability.

‘But there is only one path: keep playing.’

Just as he had judged before, this barrier was extremely solid, a creation of Angelic Authority. Even a Crowned One like himself could not break it with brute force. Rules were rules, and in this domain, the definition of an Angel was superior to most powers.

Unless… he was willing to risk the entire structure collapsing and everyone being thrown into unknown chaos by trying to force his way out.

Fortunately, the rules were two-way. As long as they followed the steps to clear this game, the barrier would dissolve according to its own logic.

This was the exit hard-coded into the underlying logic.

And the game itself seemed to be something even the Angels couldn’t directly interfere with; they could only provide indirect guidance through preset events and the Secret Keeper.

‘As long as they don’t personally step onto the field…’

Jiang Ming’s gaze darkened. As long as those two remained behind the screen as spectators, he was confident he could at least protect the three people by his side and finish this absurd voyage.

The dice came to a stop, and the points were determined. The Secret Keeper began to describe the new conditions of the sea’s surface.

Jiang Ming appeared focused on listening, but his mind was elsewhere.

‘All these preparations, all these costs, all this acting… what is it all for in the end?’

The dice continued to roll like the ticking second hand of fate, pushing the Argo toward its destined coordinates, one increment at a time.

The thick morning mist turned into afternoon swells, and the swells faded into the golden-red twilight of evening.

The sailing was no longer as awkward as it had been at the start. The four of them had formed a certain silent understanding: Jiang Ming handled decision-making and dispelling illusions, Elvira took charge of protection and assault, Lillian managed analysis and battlefield control, and Elvia focused on maintenance and support.

Event cards were flipped over and then closed: “Supplies Low,” “Undercurrents,” “Sea Beast Whispers”… They reacted, adjusted, and moved forward.

The horn in Jiang Ming’s pocket remained silent, and that diary had never been opened.

He was like a tightened string, calculating the distance of every dice roll and estimating the remaining voyage. The unease did not dissipate; instead, it settled into a sharp vigilance as the destination approached.

Twilight arrived as expected.

When the final die settled, the Secret Keeper did not immediately announce the number.

He simply raised his head slowly, turning his mask toward the blood-orange sea dyed by the setting sun.

“The final movement check has passed.”

“The Argo has reached the end of its voyage at sea.”

“Brave heroes, the fated land where the Golden Fleece you seek lies…”

He stretched out a finger and pointed directly ahead of the prow.

“Colchis Island is right before your eyes.”

Everyone stood up immediately, gathering at the bow.

Where the sea met the sky, the silhouette of an island emerged in the dusk. It was rugged and steep, covered in dark, almost black vegetation, with strange, pale rocks like broken giant bones towering at its highest point.

It was eerily quiet there. There were no bird calls and no animal roars—only the massive booming of waves striking the black reefs.

“The never-sleeping Evil Dragon is entrenched on the other side,” the Secret Keeper continued, his voice blending into the sea breeze. “According to the rules, Round 20 is the final round. Land on the island and face your end—whether you obtain the Golden Fleece and become a legend, or are buried in the dragon’s belly as the destined price of the voyage.”

He nodded slightly, seemingly in tribute to the journey.

“The final act is about to begin.”

The Argo began to move automatically toward the island’s only narrow bay, which looked like a giant black maw.

The ship moved very slowly, as if even the vessel itself was in awe of the atmosphere of the final land.

Elvira checked every joint of her weapon.

The violet light swirling at Lillian’s fingertips was more solid than it had been at any other moment.

Elvia took a deep breath, and the Branch Insignia on the back of her hand emitted a warm Glimmer, silently soothing her companions’ tense nerves.

Jiang Ming stood at the very front, his hand resting on the grip of the Raven Gun, his gaze scanning the approaching island like a hawk.

The gamble was nearing its end; the answer was about to be revealed.

‘Lilith, Beelzebub… what exactly do you want me to see on this island?’

The setting sun was splashing its last traces of afterglow onto the island’s silhouette, which looked as menacing as the spine of an ancient beast.

The Argo slid into the jagged bay of Colchis Island.

In the center of the island, atop a giant nest built of pale skeletons and black lava, the Evil Dragon was entrenched.

Just looking at it made one feel as though their soul were being washed away and eroded by a cold tide.

‘Invincible.’

That judgment was instantly etched into everyone’s bones. Elvira’s knuckles were white as she gripped her weapon; the violet light around Lillian was as faint as a candle in the wind in the darkness; Elvia’s face was pale, and her Life Perception recoiled as if struck by lightning the moment it touched that presence. Jiang Ming’s Spirit Source Heavenly Wind was issuing a frantic warning, every sensory cell screaming to flee.

The Crown of Creation in his arms grew slightly warm, whispering of a great power sufficient to briefly redefine rules and directly confront this malice.

But Jiang Ming did not want to use it—this gift from the Angels.

His intuition told him that the Angels must have a motive for granting this power. It even seemed… as though they were looking forward to him using it.

His gaze fell, landing on the ancient-looking horn in his hand.

He knew what was in his hand; he had seen it in the game before.

The ferry of the dead, the prologue to the Requiem, the caller of the silent legion: the “Undead Horn.”

It could awaken the skeletal remains of all the sleeping, unwilling, and obsessed dead within the area, granting them a brief return to existence in the world—but it stopped there. The horn could not command or drive them; these undead, forcibly pulled from their long slumber or wandering, often carried even deeper resentment and chaos.

It was a double-edged sword.

The shadow of the Evil Dragon spread like a tide, swallowing the last of the sky’s light on the island. As the darkness approached, that mass of malice flowed down from the mountain of bones. Wherever it passed, rocks rotted into ash, and the void let out a groan as if it could not bear the weight.

There was no more time.

Jiang Ming closed his eyes, took a deep breath of the foul air, and suppressed everything deep into his heart. When he opened his eyes again, they held only the clarity of a desperate gamble.

He took a step forward, standing at the very edge of the prow, and pressed the horn to his lips.

*Wooooooo — !!!*