Chapter 173

Chapter 173. Furyrit!

Driven by an irresistible urge to see what would happen, Maisellne stealthily trailed behind the trio of youngsters.

Initially, his plan upon locating the target of the “children’s” search was simply to relay their situation and seek assistance—yet his curiosity ultimately won out.

‘Every single one of them possesses a temperament that would drive a spirit to despair?’

Though their acquaintance was brief, observing a person’s manner of speaking and conduct usually offered a decent window into their character.

While Maisellne lacked the innate perceptive gifts of spirits, he possessed the sharp judgment that only a long life could bestow.

Up to this point, however, none of the three youngsters had exhibited any particularly alarming traits.

This lack of obvious flaws only deepened his intrigue.

As he continued to shadow them through the streets, Maisellne picked up several details, including their identities.

‘The youth with gray hair is Aster, the platinum-blonde one is Demian, and the one with brown hair goes by Chenbi, correct?’

Their behaviors could not have been more distinct.

To begin with, there was Demian.

“My friend, let us explore that location next. According to the performance we watched, astrological charts yield entirely different meanings depending on the perspective, meaning we must compare various establishments.”

Incredibly naive. Truly a pure soul.

Throughout the entire Amera territory, every local was well-aware of how the annual festival and the accompanying fairies’ dance served as a massive tourist trap, yet this boy had completely swallowed the marketing gimmick of a theater troupe tied to Astrology Street.

To clarify, this “Fairy Festival” took place every single year. The organizers simply tweaked the dates whenever an actual fairies’ dance was set to occur.

The highly organized exploitation of tourists in Amera was the fruit of generations of collective effort by its inhabitants.

Naturally, if any other province attempted such blatant fleecing, they would face immediate financial ruin. However, Amera—widely celebrated for its scenic lakes—managed to pull it off effortlessly.

In any case, the next subject of observation was Aster.

“Mm. Right. Understood.”

Watching him closely, Maisellne discerned that nearly all of Aster’s acknowledgments commenced with a flat “Mm.”

It was a verbal cue meant to simulate attention, though it served primarily as a standard filler phrase deployed when the listener was entirely disengaged from the topic at hand.

Following that initial “Mm,” his vocabulary rarely drifted beyond “Right, understood,” “I wasn’t aware,” or occasionally, “That is fascinating.”

It mirrored a limited set of automated responses cycled through mechanically—resembling a living construct operating with only a fraction of its consciousness intact.

Lastly, there was Chenbi.

“Aster, as a point of information, I consumed seven portions of coffee yesterday because the theatrical production lauded Amera’s brews so intensely. Therefore, I advise against attending any performances today.”

Rather than actively participating in the dialogue, he functioned more like an objective observer.

He seemed to deliberately maintain his distance, ensuring that Demian’s primary conversational target remained Aster.

He appeared just as detached from the situation, though his detachment bore a different quality than Aster’s.

If Aster resembled an automated golem whose emotional faculties had been temporarily deactivated, Chenbi gave the impression of someone whose emotional capacity had been steadily eroded until nothing remained.

The faint, weary smile—or rather, the look of utter capitulation—resting on his expression was clear evidence of this state.

Furthermore, Maisellne noted another detail during his surveillance: the only individuals who caused Fury to react with exasperation were Aster and Demian.

This implied that Chenbi still lingered within the parameters of what was considered acceptable behavior.

Even so, Maisellne suspected this would not last.

‘To gaze into the void is to risk being consumed by it.’

And in this instance, there were two distinct voids present. Staying uncorrupted under such circumstances would be the real anomaly.

Regardless, the trio systematically cleared out the establishments along Astrology Street as if they were systematically conquering martial arts academies, and the consequences perfectly matched that description.

In total, they visited fifteen separate divination shops.

Of those locations—

Temporary Closure

Five storefronts had already displayed signs indicating an unexpected hiatus.

Seven owners had taken to scattering salt across their thresholds.

As for the final three?

They offered no visible response.

Driven by inquisitiveness after the youths departed, Maisellne peered inside one of the remaining shops, only to be met with a bizarre sight.

The interior of the divination shop was dimly lit and foreboding.

“I… I cannot…!”

A practitioner of the mystic arts was trembling violently, hands balled into tight fists.

His countenance was crimson with rage and distress as he shuddered, and upon noticing Maisellne, he abruptly leaped up to bar the entryway.

‘…So the tally for temporary closures stands at eight shops.’

Closed: 8. Operating: 7.

The closures held the majority.

At this juncture, Maisellne found himself deeply intrigued.

‘Demian was his name, yes? And the guardian trailing them from the shadows is unmistakably Tohoman. That confirms the boy belongs to the main lineage of House Brando.’

While he maintained no personal ties to House Brando, he had always regarded them as a lineage possessing genuine integrity, unlike certain other noble houses that seemed devoid of human empathy.

How on earth had they elicited such a severe reaction from the local fortune-tellers?

Accepting a minor risk of detection, he decided to eavesdrop on their interactions.

“Fury, I require your assistance.”

Furyrit!

While no audible sound accompanied the action, Fury dissolved into the surroundings with an unmistakable air of focused intent, masking her presence entirely.

Before long, the sounds captured by Fury were transmitted directly to his own senses.

“Hah….”

An involuntary sigh escaped Maisellne’s lips.

The reason behind the fortune-tellers’ total collapse was instantly apparent.

‘…Dialogue is utterly impossible.’

There was simply no common ground to sustain a normal interaction.

To begin with, the card readings.

“To start, kindly select three cards of your choosing. Let the first represent your history; the second, your current state; and the third, your destiny. Focus on these concepts as you pull them.”

Demian countered the instruction immediately.

“Time is a continuous progression.”

“…?”

“The exact instant one conceptualizes the present, that very moment has already receded into history. Consequently, attempting to select a card based on an instantaneous ‘now’ is fundamentally flawed.”

Granted, an experienced seer would not normally be rendered speechless by such philosophical objections.

These practitioners possessed highly adaptable silver tongues, perfected through years of exploiting wealthy sightseers.

The true issue lay in the fact that the youths granted the practitioner no opportunity to mount a defense.

“If destiny is merely history in reverse, how do you account for that? The events awaiting me in the future have, from a certain perspective, already occurred in my past. The current moment is likewise history, depending on the framework.”

For a brief instant, Aster displayed a flash of genuine animation.

He was expressing sincere inquisitiveness, yet the effect was devastating.

However, the truly unforeseen complication was Chenbi.

“Pardon me… the previous establishment utilized an identical set of cards. Should the findings conflict, which practitioner commands greater validity? One moment. I have cataloged the names and outcomes of every reading today. The prior one was….”

The distinct rustle of pages turning echoed through the connection as the boy consulted a journal.

A more vexing patron simply did not exist.

The situation was exacerbated by the complete absence of ill intent.

An individual acting out of malice possesses an underlying awareness of their behavior, leaving room for future correction.

But when such behavior stems from innate disposition, it cannot be altered.

Even so, the locals of Amera were utterly dedicated to maximizing profits during the festival.

Despite the profound exasperation, the seer managed to hold his ground.

“In that case… let us put the cards aside and peer into your destiny using the crystal sphere. If you would place your palm upon the glass—”

Once more, Chenbi interrupted.

“Ah! This method was also employed at a prior shop—allow me a moment. The interpretation there was as follows….”

Deciding he had heard enough, Maisellne recalled his spirit companion.

“Return, Fury.”

Furyrit!

In a flash, the spirit materialized at his side.

Maisellne shut his eyes, rubbing his forehead to alleviate the sudden tension.

A mere handful of exchanges had left his mind reeling, mimicking the sensation of a severe hangover.

It felt as though the immense frustration experienced by the fortune-tellers had been directly transferred to him.

Naturally—

‘…Such trivialities alone would not compel them to suspend their businesses.’

His inquisitiveness deepened.

What further transpired to force these establishments to shut down completely?

How did one convince the merchants of Amera—who lived for this peak commercial season—to abandon their profits during the busiest time of the year?

Ultimately, Maisellne suppressed his longing for answers.

Longevity had taught him a vital truth.

‘Unchecked inquisitiveness invites an early grave.’

At his advanced age, physical collapse from sheer aggravation was a very real hazard, even if it manifested as a sudden surge of blood pressure rather than a literal rupture.

Unbeknownst to Maisellne, the final straw that broke the merchants’ patience was a recurring query from Demian: “If this practice concerns the celestial bodies, why are you failing to observe the night sky?”

Demanding an astronomical reading under the midday sun was absurd enough, but the primary grievance was the exhausting, circular debate that preceded the question.

Massaging his aching temples, Maisellne released a heavy breath.

The core mystery continued to trouble him.

‘What hidden attribute… resides within that boy Aster?’

The reason the “children” sought Aster so desperately was due to his perceived capacity to offer salvation.

He was viewed as a deliverer.

Had it been Demian, it would be comprehensible, given the vast influence of House Brando and the presence of an elite spellcaster like Tohoman.

“Mmh….”

Maisellne pondered quietly, organizing his impressions.

“A specific justification must exist.”

It was merely obscured from his vision for the time being.

Nevertheless, a practical concern emerged from his observations.

Aster traveled in the company of Demian, meaning he was constantly under the protection of Brando’s retainers.

An approach would not be straightforward.

Then again, despite discarding his old identity to become a nameless wanderer, his true title still carried significant weight.

While a prestigious lineage like House Brando would not be intimidated by his reputation, they could not dismiss him casually either.

Yet a deeper hesitation stalled him.

‘…I lack the fortitude.’

Fortitude for what?

‘Am I truly capable of sustaining a dialogue with that youth?’

This realization explained the sympathetic headache he had developed while listening to the fortune-teller.

The threat felt remarkably personal.

Even if he only had to contend with Aster, that vacant, detached demeanor was incredibly daunting.

As he weighed his options—

Step.

Aster exited the divination shop entirely unaccompanied.

The youth immediately steered his path toward a secluded side street, prompting Maisellne to hold his breath and scan the area for any observers.

He waited to ensure no one from the establishment followed the boy.

Once he confirmed the coast was clear, Maisellne felt a surge of relief and advanced toward the narrow passage where Aster had gone.

‘The reason for his solo detour escapes me, but this presents an ideal opening.’

There could be no better moment to confront the youth directly.

With that thought, he stepped into the passage.

‘How unusual. Where has he gone?’

Surprised by how quickly the boy’s presence had vanished, Maisellne called upon Fury’s tracking abilities to locate him.

Just then, a coarse, menacing voice vibrated from the deeper recesses of the alleyway.

“Hold on there, youngster. Step over here.”

It was the stereotypical greeting of an urban cutthroat.

But who were they targeting?

Maisellne closed the distance toward the source of the voices, listening as the exchange progressed.

“Where do you hail from? Carrying any coin? Perhaps your seniors can direct you to an entertaining venue. Don’t mistake this for a shakedown; we are merely offering our services as guides.”

The rhetoric of common thugs truly never evolved.

Maisellne moved closer, shaking his head at the cliché, when Aster’s reply echoed out.

“Oh, is that so? Then this isn’t a robbery, senior?”

His tone was suddenly brimming with a vibrant energy completely absent during his earlier interactions.

The thugs gave low, mocking chuckles in response.

“Precisely. We are acting as guides—how could that be a crime? We are simply requesting fair payment for our exertion. Understand?”

It was a completely standard confrontation.

Until Aster spoke next, causing Maisellne to freeze on the spot.

“Good, because I am the one committing the robbery here.”

What?

“I am currently filled with an immense amount of aggravation, so before you attempt anything, I am going to strike each of you. Let us commence with a straightforward blow to the face.”

“Haha! What nonsense is this child—gark!”

The distinct thud of physical impacts and sharp cries of pain immediately filled the air.

Unloading his accumulated irritation, Aster proceeded to thrash the street thugs, though he consciously moderated his strength to ensure they survived the encounter.

“What sort of… ridiculous theater… is this, anyway?! Astrology Street… combined with… a marketing scheme?! Seriously?!”

Amidst the rhythmic sounds of violence—

Maisellne remained motionless in the shadows, his gaze wavering with profound bewilderment.

‘That… individual… is supposed to be a savior?’