The Gunslinger-Milta

"Ha ha ha..."

Seeing Ian laugh without a shred of decorum, Lia glared at him in annoyance.

Ian had deliberately been vague, of course, just to tease her.

"You don't actually think I'm joking, do you?"

Ian smiled as he looked at Lia, whose expression had settled back into calm.

"I'm serious! I'm formally inviting you to join my crew, Miss Lia. The position is First Mate."

Lia froze for a moment, then pressed her lips together and stared at Ian, seemingly trying to decide whether he meant it.

Ian knew they weren't nearly close enough to trust each other unconditionally. He continued, "Paradise Island is small, and the Sea of Miracles is vast. Don't you want to see it?"

Lia came back to herself and raised the corner of her mouth. "Do you have a ship of your own, Mr. Trist?"

"Come with me—"

Ian jumped up and hurried up the spiral staircase to the rooftop. Lia had no choice but to quickly follow.

The observation deck, now missing its spire, was strewn with rubble. Lia didn't bother asking about it. She followed Ian's pointing finger and looked down at the shore beneath the cliff, where a small Galleon was moored.

A moving rope was sorting the supplies into different groups. It even undid the knots Milta had tied, then retied them.

"This is my ship. Don't let its size fool you. It's propeller-driven, so ordinary sailing ships can't catch it."

Ian looked at Lia with confidence.

But from her expression, he knew his invitation had fallen flat.

After all, they didn't have much of a relationship yet, and Ian really wasn't good at poaching people.

Sure enough, Lia said softly, her expression unreadable, "I can't leave."

The sea had once been her home, too. But ever since she'd been injured, the ocean had become forbidden to her.

The howling wind tore their voices to shreds, but Ian still heard her.

The words rose to Ian's lips, yet in the end, he didn't say them. Was it because he didn't want to, wasn't willing to, or couldn't?

Even if he asked and learned the truth, what right did he have to interfere in someone else's life?

Neither of them spoke again. Only the fierce sea wind howled across the rooftop.

"I should go."

Lia turned and headed downstairs. Ian walked her to the entrance.

A hand holding something suddenly reached out in front of Lia.

"Here, take this as a parting gift. You can't refuse this time, or you'll make me look bad. Maybe we'll meet again someday. When we do, remember to return the favor."

Lia paused, then smiled brightly. She released the reins in her hand and cupped both hands beneath Ian's large palm.

Ian opened his right hand, and a small crystal vial fell into Lia's palm.

A drop of red liquid floated inside. Even through the crystal vial's seal, it gave off a peculiar spiritual fluctuation.

As Lia looked at the drop, a faint yearning stirred in her heart.

"I got this during one of my past adventures. It can heal injuries and illnesses, and lessen curses. It should be useful to you."

Ian spoke casually.

Lia had spent years searching for a way to break her curse. Her efforts hadn't been entirely fruitless, but she couldn't afford the price. Now, what she'd longed for had appeared before her so casually.

Suppressing her desire, Lia clutched the vial tightly and held it out to Ian. "I can't accept this."

Ian took a step back, evading her gesture. "It's not much use to me."

Lia couldn't believe that. Anything that could save a life was precious to whoever possessed it.

Her expression tense, Lia stepped closer and raised the hand holding the vial. "I haven't agreed to join your crew. Maybe your future First Mate needs it more."

Ian smiled faintly. "Your choice won't change my decision."

He'd already decided to give it to her, so he might as well say something nice.

Lia froze. For a moment, she stood there in a daze.

"Bang—" Ian seized the chance to shut the door. "I'm going to meditate. Maybe I'll see you again someday."

Lia hurried to the door and raised her hand, but in the end, she didn't knock.

Ian had the tavern send up several extra meals. From what he remembered, people became very hungry after awakening their spirituality.

Milta's spiritual fluctuation had appeared from nothing and grown stronger and stronger. Now it had begun to settle, and Ian guessed he'd wake up soon.

Milta's spiritual awakening and advancement into an Extraordinary profession had been remarkably uneventful—so smooth it was hard to believe.

Everyone's spiritual awakening was dangerous. The Spirit Realm's temptations and the Shadow Realm's corruption lurked everywhere. Only after mastering the core ability of an Extraordinary profession could the Spiritual World stabilize, allowing its barriers to keep the dangers lurking in the shadows at bay.

The wonders of the Fate Card had once again revealed just the tip of the iceberg.

Milta seemed to have had an incredibly vivid dream. In it, he was Mr. Trist's attendant, following Mr. Trist's arrangements as he trained to become a gunslinger.

Day after day, year after year, Mr. Trist was both strict and kind.

Then, on the day of the final assessment, Mr. Trist smiled with satisfaction and quietly told him he'd passed. Milta was so excited that he woke from the dream in an instant.

As soon as Milta opened his eyes, he saw Mr. Trist sitting at the dining table, smiling at him.

For an instant, dream and reality seemed to overlap.

Milta pushed himself to his feet. Though newly born, his spirituality was already quite stable, surging through the room.

"I became an Extraordinary?!" Milta looked down at his body, which hadn't changed much, his face full of disbelief.

His body told him it was real. It was as if Milta had truly trained for years. He felt no discomfort at all, and his spirituality and body were entirely under his control.

Milta strode over to Ian, his expression solemn. He dropped to one knee and performed an earnest, if somewhat awkward, Knight's Salute. "Your will is my mission!"

Ian watched him with a beaming smile. Only after Milta had finished did he say gently, "This is only the beginning. The path of the Extraordinary is long. Keep your reverence and continue working hard."

After Milta stood, the two began to eat.

As he ate, Milta eagerly shared his dream, his feelings, and his new abilities. This actually put Ian at ease. It seemed the card wouldn't forcibly alter a person's personality or spiritual traits.

Milta's spiritual flintlock was usually hidden in the Spiritual World. He could summon it when needed, and it fired Spirituality Bullets.

Its power was formidable, and its shots were almost impossible to dodge. Even Ian's emergency protection could withstand only five shots; an ordinary Sequence 9 Extraordinary would probably fall before the third.

Its weaknesses were just as clear. For one, it had a short range—currently less than a hundred meters. For another, it consumed a lot of energy. The more powerful the Spirituality Bullet, the greater the cost. At present, he could fire only ten ordinary shots before his spirituality was nearly depleted.

As Milta continued to improve, both his firepower and endurance would surely grow.

At first, Ian planned to get him an Alchemy Flintlock, which would let him make the most of his abilities.

Besides, Milta had mastered several Gunpowder Formulas, including two for Alchemy Gunpowder. There was no need to buy so many formulas anymore.