Across the vast sea of Eldloss, a black ship drifted gently along the current. Mulock gulped down mouthfuls of liquor even though he felt nothing. Like every child born on Break Island, he had long been a devotee of Oxxhurael, and losing a portion of one’s senses was a common matter. Mulock could at least perceive the world through his puppet. Unfortunately he had not yet found a suitable one. Mullock was a picky man, and unless forced by absolute necessity, he always preferred puppets with a somewhat dignified appearance. Looking at the heavy pouch of gold in his hand, the pirate felt deeply satisfied. At the very least this time he could hire a few stronger sailors and obtain a truly handsome puppet.

  Up ahead lay Break Island, or more accurately Thug Island, one of the three main isles. A place where one could die at any moment simply for being weak or for having an unpleasant face. Mulock docked at Eba Bay, a shabby looking port that had existed for centuries upon the sea, predating even the moment Break Island was shattered.

  The scene remained as bustling and chaotic as ever, wooden planks creaking beneath countless steps, the scent of seawater intermingling with mildew, vomit scattered everywhere, and above all, the occasional rotting corpse lying in the middle of the road.

  “Hey! Someone throw that pile of sludge to the fish already! It stinks like dung!” A prostitute shouted with a sharp voice. She seemed to have some money, since a few burly men quickly gathered to carry the corpse away after her complaint.

  Mulock felt nothing. Smell was the first sense he had offered, a daily matter for him. He needed a new puppet before he wasted this pile of gold on liquor and women. It would be pathetic to spend money yet feel nothing.

  Mulock stepped into the familiar Ancohes tavern, its space filled with the rowdy screaming of the damned pirates, rough and disorderly, with even a few Naga and several Greaton soldiers enjoying their conversations. Naga women were always something exotic for the pretentious soldiers. Perhaps they had grown bored of ordinary humans and were seeking new pleasures in these "foreign" women. The soldiers suddenly noticed Mulock, fear filling their faces. They hurriedly left amid the confusion of the Naga who were still negotiating prices. They needed to inform their superiors of an important piece of information.

  “Oh! If it isn’t the famous Lord Mulock! Look at you. Such courage to show up here. Assassinating a king no less. The bounty on your head doubled.”

  The tavern owner, Bolo, greeted him with a rumbling voice and pushed over a familiar cup of Meli liquor mixed with a hint of lemon and some secret ingredient. He was only joking. With Mulock’s strength, only a handful on Break Island could defeat him. But Mulock was no fool. He could always run.

  “I swear I have no idea why he died like that. Someone forced this blame onto me. I only wanted to capture him alive.” Mulock clicked his tongue, tossed a sweet berry into his mouth, and drained the cup. Naturally he felt nothing.

  “How are today’s goods? Has Lady Lust’s new stock arrived?” Mulock asked quietly.

  “You know her goods are expensive. Last time she sold a corpse that had an Ability to turn its body into steel, it caused a whole uproar. He was a middle-aged man from the Stronghold family, one of Greaton’s four great houses, and the price rose to a hundred gold coins.”

  “Just that for a hundred gold coins. What idiot would spend that much for such an Ability.” Mulock scoffed. None of his Abilities were weaker than that one, and many were incomparably stronger.

  “Keep your voice down. The Red Hat group acquired it.”

  “Red Hats? Ha ha ha. I know exactly what that bastard wants. Damn him. Weak little scum.”

  Unlike small groups like Mulock’s, Red Hat was a massive fleet that dominated all of Break Island, a true king without a throne. Even merchants or envoys from other kingdoms had to show respect toward the reputation of this pirate faction.

  Bolo shook his head. He was merely a humble shopkeeper and had no desire to discuss matters that could lead to an inexplicable death. He quietly handed Mulock a black card, a pass used by those who shopped in the black market, a privilege granted only to the influential.

  Mulock nodded and departed, not forgetting to leave one silver coin for the cup of Meli and three additional copper coins as a tip. He headed toward a secluded area where the walls were carved with strange symbols, a kind of protective formation. Not far ahead stood Hex, an elderly Naga gatekeeper, inhaling deeply from his pipe. Seeing Mulock approach, the Naga recognized him and greeted him with a faint smile before extending his hand.

  “The usual. The black card and three gold coins.”

  “Expensive as always.” Mulock had visited countless times yet still frowned at the waste. Three gold coins just for the entrance.

  “This time better have something worthwhile.” Mulock thought to himself.

  The black market certainly did not operate regularly. It had fixed schedules and followed strict arrangements. As a busy man, Mulock always made time to attend at the right moment. When he entered, the place was already packed. Everyone wore black masks and cloaks to conceal their identities. Mulock bothered with none of that. He was strong and protected by the Reborn guild.

  After a long wait, the auction finally began. A host wearing a crocodile mask appeared. He tapped his gavel and his voice, distorted by some spell, opened the event.

  “Welcome to the Black Market. I am Corodice, your host for tonight. I hope to bring all of you an exhilarating and magnificent auction.”

  Mulock yawned. Only after countless useless greetings did Corodice begin presenting the items, starting with a series of cursed trinkets, ridiculous in power, offering little benefit and great harm. The closest thing Mulock found remotely interesting was the Rotten Flesh from BloodHunt. Yet even Chef, calm as he was, could not control it. The auction continued and Mulock finally found a decent vessel, the corpse of a Hesmor nobleman with a calm handsome appearance and a basic "Enhancement" Ability that most people awakened. It was cheap, so Mulock bought it for ten gold coins. Goods from Lady Lust were not always available and he needed something temporary before switching to a higher grade.

  “Next, we move on to a truly rare item. Please, look here.”

  Corodice shouted as slaves carried out a large iron cage. Inside was a beautiful girl with purple hair, gagged and bound in chains. She stared at Corodice with cold eyes, hatred deep enough to tear him apart. If given the chance, hundreds of metal shards would pierce straight into the arrogant host’s body.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  “Oh. She is…” Mulock felt intrigued.

  “She is a Writter. For those unaware, they are devotees of The Abstract Ones with the Ability to summon Shadow, a tremendously powerful Ability. Based on preliminary evaluation, her Shadow is on par with a Battle King. The starting price is ten gold coins.”

  “Fifteen gold coins.” A fat man placed his bid, eyes filled with lust. What he desired clearly was not merely her Ability.

  “That damned fat pig. If he wants to satisfy his urges, he should go find the prostitutes. I offer twenty gold coins. I accept going deaf if it means owning this Ability.”

  “She is only on the level of a Battle King. I offer fifty gold coins for this slave. Everyone, show some respect. I am Ducky, captain of the third division of the Red Hat crew.”

  The entire room fell silent. It appeared they truly did respect this Ducky, which displeased Corodice immensely. He despised the Red Hat gang. They stripped the auction of its natural competition. He struck the gavel once, then twice. It seemed fifty gold coins would be the final price.

  “I bid sixty six gold coins for her.” Mulock said calmly.

  Ducky frowned. Despite his cute name, everyone knew he was anything but cute. On the contrary, he was a demon in human skin. He was startled when he recognized the one who had ruined his good deal. In the auction hall, only a handful of confident individuals dared show their true identity.

  “Mulock? Did you not previously win the corpse of a Soceror King level Writter? This product is far inferior. Why would you compete with me?” Ducky was confused. He did not want to cause trouble with this lunatic. Mulock was a bone not worth gnawing.

  “What now? I need your permission to act? Bring your captain here if you want a conversation with me. Get lost!” Mulock replied coldly. He had no interest in explaining anything to small fry.

  Ducky trembled with anger yet remained silent. He closed his eyes, suppressing the volcano rising inside. One day, he would repay this debt. “Enjoy your arrogance while you can, Mulock.”

  Corodice was delighted. An additional sixteen gold coins was no small amount. He quickly struck the gavel to finalize the transaction. The remainder of the auction held nothing remarkable. Mulock had become especially selective. If an Ability was not truly powerful, he did not care. He still remembered Renes’s Ability vividly. It was overwhelming, nearly invincible once night fell. If he combined it with his own shapeshifting Ability, he was confident he could dethrone Red Hat and rule all of Break Island.

  Aboard the familiar pitch-black ship sailing out to sea, Shelley ravenously stuffed food into her mouth. Ever since being dragged beneath the ocean in the battle at Mornet, her condition had been indescribably miserable. Captured by a group of pirates, she had been forced to wipe out the entire crew and seize their ship to return to the mainland. On the way back, Big Mouth sank the vessel, and once again she drifted across the ocean, only to be taken by a Black Market ship.

  Mulock sat beside her, nodding with a mixture of awe and disbelief. The fact that she was still alive was nothing short of a miracle. To encounter a legendary-class monster and still escape.

  “You know Big Mouth has an incredible sense of smell, right? When you killed all those pirates, you should have cleaned the blood off the ship.” Mulock shared his knowledge calmly.

  That was why one should use a living ship, a vessel hybridized with fish so it could dive beneath the sea, just like the ship Mulock was using now. He had spent a considerable amount of money to buy it from the Orc sorcerers of Noland.

  Shelley let out a loud belch. She wiped her mouth, but soon vomited all the food she had just consumed. The stench was unbearable. She needed her perfume, but unfortunately it had all been lost to the sea.

  “Spit it out. You savages from Break Island never do anything without a purpose. What do you want from me?” Shelley said coldly.

  Mulock remained silent, smiling. He snapped his fingers. A black vortex opened behind him, and Volder stepped out, drawing a look of shock from Shelley.

  “What is this! That is Volder! How are you possessing Rowling’s Shadow? Damn it, what did you do to her?” Shelley’s eyes reddened as she glared at Mulock with hatred. It seemed Rowling was a name of great importance to her.

  "Calm down. I had nothing to do with her death. I am a terrible man, but I do not like solving other people’s troublesome matters for them. I bought her corpse from an auction.”

  Shelley was half-skeptical. Mulock was a notorious pirate. As a writer and also a mage, Shelley possessed vast knowledge. She enjoyed reading and researching various subjects in the library whenever she had free time, and she was almost always free.

  Break Island was a land under the protection of Oxxhurael, the ancient god representing the deep sea and torment. Just like the Death Valley and the Black Sea were under the protection of Vel'Haen, this place also had its own set of rules that every living being had to obey.

  Children born on Break Island were required from a young age to sacrifice one sense to Oxxhurael in order to receive his attention, as well as the abilities of another creature that accompanied that sacrifice. (It was usually a corpse and rarely a living person). Most of the savages here offered their sense of smell, naturally so they would not have to endure the stench that permeated this place. There were limitations to the sacrifice. Humans possessed five basic senses, so in theory they could sacrifice up to five times and gain five abilities. But this also meant the person could be considered as good as dead, imprisoned within their own body. And the worst part was not even that. Those who attempted to sacrifice beyond the allowed limit would be transformed into Orbis, monstrous beings bearing the form of the deep sea.

  Ordinary children could only sacrifice once. Those who managed twice were considered nobility here. A third sacrifice marked them as the chosen, promising seeds for high positions within the Reborn cult, or captains of division within the Red Hat. Four sacrifices belonged to the most powerful figures on Break Island, including the captain of Red Hat and the high priest of Reborn. And five sacrifices meant becoming the vessel of Oxxhurael, the host through which the ancient god could descend into the world in human form. These individuals would be marked with a five pointed star on their body, each darkened point representing one sacrificed sense.

  Mulock was one of the chosen. Fortunately for him, the star’s mark appeared on a hidden part of his body, so no one noticed it, not even himself until much later. On the other hand, Mulock, through puppet control, was still able to perceive what the puppet he commanded perceived. That was why he craved a puppet so desperately. Three points of his star had already darkened. He could now only see and hear. Mulock had no desire to become the vessel of Oxxhurael. He planned to sacrifice only one more time, trading his sense of hearing for a powerful ability.

  “The ability of Shadow depends on the work of the one who created it, but now that Volder has lost the capacity to grow, I want it to become stronger. I know writers can inherit each other’s works, or at least continue a story left unfinished. I want you to help Volder grow stronger, preferably to advance to the next rank, Socerer Emperor.”

  “You are dreaming.” Shelley sneered. Volder had lost all potential for improvement ever since its master fell. Writers could indeed inherit and continue a work, but Rowling’s writing was far too exceptional for anyone else to intrude upon it. Moreover, her own Shadow was only at Battle King rank. She was still young and needed more time and knowledge to perfect her own work.

  “You mean I wasted sixty six gold coins?” Mulock said coldly. He immediately entertained the thought of sending her to meet her ancestors. The murderous intent spreading through the space startled Shelley. The puppet Mulock was controlling appeared far too polite, making her forget that he was nothing more than a savage from Break Island.

  “Wait, wait.” Shelley shouted quickly.

  “Speak before I change my mind.” Mulock laughed inwardly. Killing her would be a waste. He could simply sell her back to Ducky and recover some of the profit. Everything was nothing more than a threat, and as expected, she was still too young.

  “There is still one way to make Volder grow stronger.” Shelley gasped for breath as threads of mana withdrew from her neck. She still remembered the method King used to elevate Ti to a higher rank, a way to let the story continue even if the author had given up. It was to turn the Shadow into a living being, to let it write the continuation of its own story.

  Mulock's hidden mark