Rosacer opened the pages of the book, his eyes fluttering through them.
The title of the book shifted in shades as he held it, though he failed to notice, his mind already buried inside the text.
"Magus Newborn Ritual: The mana circuit of the target is used..."
"Coils of Eternal Loop Ritual: The body of a serpentine is used to create a cage..."
Rosacer read one by one, the different rituals of various kinds the general to had to offer, including the complex and forbidden ones.
During this, he eventually encountered the ritual that Christopher had used as well.
Under an ancient sealing tablet illustration, it was written:
Ouroboros Katadesmos: Snake Curse Tablet
Rosacer read further.
"Vasuki/Jörmungandr Blood Ritual..."
Below it was inscribed the procedure required to perform it, along with the items necessary for the ritual to take place.
Skipping that part, he directly went to the thods to break the seal and dissolve its effects.
"10 ml blood of a Vasuki descendant or Jörmungandr descendant must be applied to the sealed item to break the seal."
Rosacer stared at the sentence, trying to figure out how he could find a descendant of these two behemoths. Through the system, he asked another question.
"Who are Vasuki and Jörmungandr?"
The system ca alive with shimring blue light. Within a text box, words appeared:
[The Serpent King, Vasuki, is the venomous naga-man who ruled the Serpentine people during his era, the most revered king among them. So places worship him as their god, though he is not a true god. He once wielded power equal to one.]
[Jörmungandr, the World Serpent, once coiled around the entire world. This behemoth of a serpent can rival even the gods ruling the underworld. With a body capable of expanding to encircle the whole world, this monster was once feared by many and worshipped by others.]
Without Rosacer asking further, the system displayed another window.
[Descendants of them are the naga-n, now bound to the lower Ignorance Level of the Karmic Dungeon.]
[User has already t one of the direct descendants: Christopher Wright.]
"The chemist..." Rosacer muttered.
"So, it is impossible now, it seems. Unless I can directly return to Mist City, there is no way to retrieve the blood of a descendant."
While deep in thought, Rosacer rembered Room 78. The room that had a possible connection to Mist City, along with Ernest’s artifacts that could be strengthening the connection.
He thought for a while, assessing his plan and the danger involved in becoming a thief, and at last sighed. He had no choice. He would eventually need to interact with Mist City. This was the best opportunity he had co across. Not only would he be able to enter Mist City if he succeeded, but he would also be able to et Elizabeth, perhaps save her this ti.
"Alright, that should be it..." he muttered to himself as he finally decided on his answer.
This was the best case scenario, Rosacer thought. If he succeeded in making a connection, he might be able to teleport directly into Mist City from Room 78. But the only downside was that if he chose to betray the Head Hunter Disciple, there was bound to be trouble for him in a land where there was no one for him.
He grunted at his situation as he finally slid the book back inside and walked out of the aisle. Eren, in the corner near the arched window, still had his head down and did not even raise it this ti to see Rosacer.
Rosacer, too absentminded, walked out of the library. He did not even notice who passed by him as he walked toward the Guild.
He entered through the large door. At the desk today was Bri, with her unusual pink hair. He quickly spotted her, but did not move toward her.
For there was soone near the quest board.
Bri called out to him, "Adventurer, your paynt is ready, the bonus."
With a hand gesture, Rosacer told her he would take it later and moved toward Gringha.
The assassin noticed soone approaching him. He gave a faint smile and spoke softly, "et in Hotel Asmadon. Room 78."
Rosacer did not respond. Instead, he pretended to look at the quest board as well, acting as if he disliked the available quests, then turned toward the counter.
With night falling, the sky grew darker, and the sea breeze from the ocean drifted toward the land.
The road to Hotel Asmadon was quieter.
The guild behind him still carried the echo of voices, laughter, tal clanking, and drunken argunts, but each step he took peeled that noise away. The stone road grew older as he moved further from the centre of Vermis. The lanterns placed along the streets flickered unevenly, their light struggling against the swelling night.
A salty wind brushed across his coat. The ocean was not far. He could sll it, thick and damp, mixed with rotting algae and the faint scent of fish markets that never truly closed.
Rosacer kept walking.
He sotis shivered in the cold wind, but still kept his head down.
His boots struck the stone in steady rhythm.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The sound felt louder than usual.
He slowed instinctively, glancing around. The street was not empty, but it felt vacuud.
A couple of rchants were shutting wooden stalls. A drunk sailor leaned against a wall, humming a broken tune. Two cloaked figures passed by him, whispering sothing in a language he could not catch.
Hotel Asmadon stood near the far edge of the coastal quarter. The building revealed itself slowly as Rosacer turned around the final curve of the street. It was taller than the surrounding structures, built from dark stone that looked almost damp even under lantern light. The roof sloped sharply, layered with uneven tiles that caught the moonlight like dull scales.
Several windows were lit, but the light inside them felt weak, like candles struggling to survive.
The signboard creaked above the entrance. The carved letters spelling ASMADON were weathered and chipped. Soone had tried repainting them recently, but the new paint clashed with the age of the wood, making the entire sign look sick rather than restored.
Rosacer stopped across the street.
He observed the building for a mont.
The place looked functional. Ordinary. Travelers entered and exited through the wide double doors. A porter dragged luggage behind him. A carriage stood near the curb while a well dressed rchant argued with a stable boy about paynt.
Everything was normal.
Which was exactly what bothered him.
Room 78.
The number settled inside his mind like a stone sinking into dark water.
He crossed the street.
The closer he approached, the colder the air felt. Not physically cold. It was the type of chill that crept beneath the skin, subtle and unwelco. The lantern hanging beside the entrance swayed without wind, casting restless shadows across the doorway.
Rosacer pushed the door open.
Warm air greeted him, thick with the sll of cheap incense and polished wood. The interior was brighter than outside, though the light ca mostly from chandeliers fitted with yellow crystals rather than fla. The floor was covered in red carpet that had faded into uneven shades from years of footsteps.
The lobby was busy, yet strangely quiet. Conversations existed, but they remained hushed. Guests spoke closer to each other than necessary, as if the walls might listen.
Rosacer muttered, "Looks like I’m in a novel by H.P. Lovecraft."
Behind the counter stood a tall woman with silver frad spectacles. She flipped through a ledger with chanical precision, barely glancing at the guests waiting before her.
Rosacer stepped inside fully, letting the door close behind him.
A bell chid softly.
He scanned the lobby.
A staircase curved upward along the far wall, splitting into two separate directions after the second floor. Hallways stretched into dim corridors on both sides. A long mirror hung near the staircase, reflecting distorted silhouettes of the guests moving across the lobby.
For a brief second, Rosacer thought he saw soone standing behind him in the reflection.
But when he turned, there was no one.
Only a pair of travelers dragging luggage through the entrance.
Rosacer narrowed his eyes, then dismissed it. His mind was already burdened enough.
"Room 78," he muttered again.
Rosacer approached the counter, but stopped halfway. His gaze drifted toward the staircase instead. Sothing about registering himself here felt unnecessary. Unwise, perhaps. If Room 78 truly connected to Mist City, then records were the last thing he wanted tied to his presence.
He adjusted his gloves slowly, then turned away from the counter and moved toward the stairs.
The carpet muffled his footsteps completely.
Each step upward felt heavier than the last. The sounds of the lobby faded behind him. The air grew still. The lighting shifted as well. The crystals along the stairwell glowed dimr, their yellow tint turning pale and almost sickly.
Second floor.
Third floor.
The corridor stretched long and narrow. Doors lined both sides, each marked with polished brass numbers. The hallway lamps were spaced too far apart, leaving pockets of shadow between them.
Rosacer walked slowly, reading each number as he passed.
The corridor bent slightly to the right.
Slowly, he reached the darker section of the hallway.
The lamps here flickered weakly. The carpet beneath his boots felt softer, thicker, like it swallowed sound completely. Even his breathing seed muted.
He stopped walking for a mont.
The silence here was unnatural.
He sighed inwardly but then resud moving.
Room 78 stood at the very end of the corridor.
The door was different from the others. Not visibly damaged or decorated, but older. The wood was darker, the brass number slightly tarnished. The handle reflected no light despite standing directly under a lamp.
Rosacer stood before it.
He listened.
Nothing ca from inside. Yet the faint scent of damp stone and distant sea water leaked from beneath the door fra.
His fingers hovered near the handle.
For a brief mont, Elizabeth’s face surfaced in his thoughts. Pale. Frightened. Reaching toward him from mories he had already failed once.
Rosacer exhaled slowly.
Then he placed his hand on the handle.
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