Westminster Bank

It ended with her usual sign-off: "Please hold on until the end."

’Sis, your brother here is about to give up.’

Even as he grumbled, Baron more or less understood why the flow of conversation between him and Yelena was so off. The problem probably wasn’t the communication delay between Prole and Britain. The root cause was, as always, the same old story—no money.

He cursed his damn Destiny in his mind.

Baron’s focus returned to the text on the page he had previously burned away. It seemed that besides the "Damage Storage" function he had unlocked, he could also use torn-out pages to let people who didn’t have a notebook contact him.

’I wonder if I could also tear out a few more pages, give them to others, and use the notebook to contact them.’

At this thought, Baron tore out two more sheets and placed them under the notebook. In the notification section of his notebook, he casually wrote a line of classical Chinese poetry to see if the torn-out pages would also receive his message.

But the result was just as Baron had guessed: the torn-out pages could only transmit information one-way. Furthermore, his experiments revealed that not only could each torn page transmit a message just once, but there also seemed to be a cooldown period for tearing pages out of the notebook.

Three pages once every three months.

Looking at the pop-up on the notebook, Baron’s thoughts turned to the Damage Storage function.

He had previously only thought of this function as a backup measure. But since this notebook was already showing signs of being a rule-based, concept-God-style Taboo Item, couldn’t he get a little creative with it?

For example, could Damage Storage store damage from others? During a fight, could he slap the Damage Storage page onto his chest to block a fatal blow?

Heh, you know what? Baron suddenly felt eager to try it out.

But now wasn’t the time. Baron calmed himself, glanced at the crow in the eucalyptus tree, and after a moment’s hesitation, he brazenly laid out his things and began to write in his diary.

He began praising Isabella from his own subjective viewpoint, employing a subtle, roundabout style full of backhanded compliments:

"Today was a bad day, just my luck. I got caught by Isabella, the Beowulf Family’s elder daughter...

This woman saw through my disguise. Her eyes are sharp.

She’s beautiful, but she doesn’t keep her word. I gave her the Taboo Item, yet she’s still holding me captive. If I wasn’t outmatched, I’d have escaped long ago..."

As he wrote this, Baron’s pen paused for a moment.

In his peripheral vision, the crow preening its feathers on the treetop suddenly stood at attention. Across the fire, the woman’s back stiffened unnaturally, making the curves of her posterior, tightly wrapped in her hunting outfit, seem even more pronounced.

A thought stirred in Baron’s mind. It was just as he’d expected; he hadn’t been overthinking things after all.

The Dracul Mountain Range was currently teeming with a Dragon Tide. The skies, dominated by Welsh Little Flying Dragons, didn’t even have any eagle-owls. Where would a pure-blooded crow come from?

Never mind the Beowulf Family’s Barrier at the mountain entrance; even if it flew in from the unguarded western side, the Dragon Species and Dragon Descendants along the way would have eaten this crow like a snack.

If he remembered correctly, back when he used the Little Flame Demon to monitor the conversation between Roy’s group in the reception hall, there had been crows nearby.

According to Jack, there were indeed things in this world called "Servant Demons"—shape-shifting Taboo Items or beings brought forth by Alchemy Ceremonies. The Tier of such Taboo Items was generally guaranteed C, aiming for B.

Judging by the way Isabella’s back twitched involuntarily with every turn of his pen, this crow was clearly a similar existence. ’Maybe I can find a chance to "contain" (steal) it later.’

"Good thing I’m used to being plotted against and have my wits about me, or my identity might have been exposed."

Having finished writing (and teasing) in his diary, Baron closed the notebook.

Just then, the crow above let out a strange caw and flew away. Isabella chose that moment to turn around, clear her throat, and say, "Get some rest. We have an early start tomorrow."

With that, she took a strangely colored, Spiritual Power-filled liquid from her robes, drank it, and closed her eyes, seemingly beginning some sort of meditation.

The firelight danced on her exquisite face, giving her skin an almost glass-like quality.

Baron’s gaze lingered on the slightly red tips of her ears. He thought that this childhood friend, this ice queen, was at least not as cold and aloof as she appeared.

But he didn’t sleep. Instead, he began to study the rhythm of Isabella’s breathing, his eyes focused on the Branding on her hand that faintly shimmered as Spiritual Power circulated.

He could feel that the Spiritual Power Isabella had expended during the day was slowly circulating and recovering.

The crow flew back, quietly observing from its perch on the tree trunk.

This time, Baron made no overt movements. He simply memorized the frequency of her breaths, copied her by closing his eyes, took out the Dragon Summoner Badge to hide in his palm, and began to slowly immerse himself in her breathing rhythm.

The unique aura of the Dragon Species within the Dragon Summoner Badge was drawn through his palm and into his body, rapidly spreading to his limbs and bones. His Spiritual Power rose along with the influx of this aura.

The crow in the eucalyptus tree cawed once and flew away.

Baron’s heart stirred.

It wasn’t because Isabella had called off her surveillance, but because the speed at which his Spiritual Power was recovering was nearly the same as when he had absorbed from the Red Dragon Scale the previous night.

’If I were to swap the badge in my hand for the Red Dragon Scale, my total Spiritual Power would probably reach the Silver standard in no time. Unfortunately, something like the Red Dragon Scale can’t be revealed...’

No, wait!

Baron suddenly spotted a blind spot in his thinking.

’My current line of work is robbery. I’m robbing people for money, and for Dragon Scales!’

Although the Dragon Race aura on those seventh, eighth, or ninth-generation descendants was faint, the combined aura from all of them was not to be underestimated.

Lost in thought, he opened his eyes to find the sky had turned a pale gray. The eucalyptus tree rustled, and rain clouds were gathering to the southeast. A heavy downpour seemed imminent.

Feeling the Spiritual Power that had been drained by the Chain of the Imitator now fully replenished, Baron slowly rose to his feet. His bones cracked loudly, like a rusty machine lurching back into motion.

Despite a full night of sitting in meditation, his mind wasn’t groggy. In fact, it was clear and refreshed. It was as satisfying as a past life where, after a full day of overtime and getting chewed out, you come into work the next day to find out your boss got arrested for embezzling company funds, the company got "restructured," you got a promotion and a raise, and they gave you a month-long vacation to boot.

Noticing Baron’s movement, Isabella also opened her eyes.

She deftly put on her mask, stowed her two long spears, and pulled the Scale-Stripping Saber that Baron had pinned to the ground with his chain last night from the earth. She said:

"You awake? Let’s go rob someone."

...

On the second day after the Trial Takers entered the Dracul Mountain Range, a portion of them and their Dragon Guides who remained at the border of the outer and middle circles—excluding the few Bronze Powerhouses who had traveled day and night to reach the middle circle and approach the core—suffered a baptism by tornado.

The ones who delivered this tornado-like baptism, one even faster than the Dragon Spear Baptism, were two bandits.

Their weapons were "Unbeatable" and "Unspeakable."

As the ritual’s banquet was held in the mountains as scheduled, guests ate Dutch steak and drank French red wine, waiting with a mix of anticipation and nervousness for the disaster to erupt.

Meanwhile, inside the mountain range, one after another, Trial Takers and Dragon Guides who had toiled all day to hunt for Dragon Scales only to be robbed of most of their haul began to question the purpose of the ceremony and their reasons for participating.

A Trial to temper spirit and flesh?

A ceremony to end disaster and calamity?

Or was it simply the law of the jungle?

By the end of the second day, the ones closest to receiving the Dragon Spear Baptism were no longer the Bronze Powerhouses who had first entered the middle circle, but rather those two infamous bandits.

That night, as Baron looked at the pile of Dragon Scales and banknotes before him, he also began to wonder what the original purpose of his collaboration with Isabella had been.

To escape?

’Whatever. What’s done is done. Time to meditate.’

——————————

[First night of the Dragon Hunting Ceremony, Diary of Isabella, Beowulf’s Elder Daughter:

(After a pile of sketches of Dragon Descendants, notes on their weaknesses, analysis of the various Trial Takers in the mountains, and countermeasures for robbing them, the only thing that could be called Isabella’s true thoughts was a single sentence:)

This guy’s Spear Technique is not inferior to mine.]

[First night of the Dragon Hunting Ceremony, Diary of "Master Jack":

(After omitting a pile of nonsense written purely to tease her, the simple sentence that made the elder daughter slightly uncomfortable was:)

Her eyes are so beautiful.]