Asking its name had not been a random step. In mysticism, knowing one's own name was extremely important; it meant possessing a stable understanding of oneself.
The world was idealistic, and stable cognition was the foundation of everything. Even evil gods, powerful as they were, could not possess self-awareness. That was why, despite their immense power, no organization had ever tried to cooperate with them—they only sought to seize their power.
And this Fishman knew its own name, which most likely meant that it had truly lived before, whether as a human or as a Fishman.
Memories could be falsified, but self-awareness could only be distorted, never fabricated from nothing.
A name was the shortest spell.
"Fabien" had at least truly existed in this world. Even if this Fishman was not the man himself, it was still an echo of that existence.
The lookout paused slightly, then replied at Chloe's prompting, "Have you heard of Jeremiah?"
"Jeremiah?" The Fishman raised a hand to scratch its head, but its arms were too short to reach. It looked down at its hand in confusion before replying, "I vaguely remember him. Isn't he the captain of the Black Pearl? Heard he's made it big recently."
"When did you last see him?"
The Fishman's expression gradually turned wary. "What does that have to do with you?"
The lookout's eyes shifted as he took a pocket watch from his coat and handed it over. "Hey, help me out. I've got some business with him."
The Fishman took the pocket watch and lowered its head with some difficulty to inspect it. Then it grinned. "You're really generous. Last time I saw him was nearly two months ago. I've heard plenty of news about him, though. Anything else you want to ask?"
"Have many ships gone out