After years of constant trials and reflection, Ian had gained a rough grasp of what the various colors in his psychic power signified.
Pitch-black aura represented pure misfortune or natural calamity—for example, a tornado sweeping up a piece of wood and dropping it from the sky, smashing someone half to death. In Precognitive Vision, the calamity brought by such events manifested as black aura.
The denser the black aura, the more severe and unavoidable it was. A mist of pure black, without even the faintest trace of any other color, was the lifeless silence of certain death—like a group setting out to sea and suddenly encountering a Great Storm, with no room whatsoever to maneuver.
Only life fighting with all its strength, along with a sliver of miracle, could shatter such inevitability.
Crimson aura, meanwhile, was connected to other living beings.
Whether humans or wild beasts, sea monsters wandering the depths of the ocean, or the various Demonic Beasts, Aliens, and native bandits that could never be fully eradicated from the Bison Mountains, all belonged to this category.
Being murdered, robbed by pirates, attacked by wild beasts, dragged into the water by a large fish while fishing, or even having an entire ship capsize and sink—all counted as this kind.
"This is highly abnormal. There haven't been any recent anomalies at the offshore ruins. I already confirmed last time that there was still quite a long time before a natural disaster like the Great Storm."
Although he had sensed it coming long ago, once it was truly confirmed that all of Harrison Port would be plunged into danger, Ian's mood grew heavy as well.
He returned to the shop, washed his hands, took a sip of warm water steeped with Blood-Replenishing Grass, then sat in a chair and closed his