Bright sunlight shone down from the sky, and the sea breeze swept away Backlund's gloom. Thousands had died in the catastrophe before the new year, while even more had contracted illnesses of varying severity.
It had to be said that even though Grisha, the "True Creator," had sheltered large numbers of the poor, the diseases spread by that demigod-level Demoness had indeed been eating away at their lives.
Fortunately, the several poorhouses Nimrod had opened had helped some of them, slowing the rate at which their lives withered away.
At Pritz Harbor, enormous ships lay quietly lined up in the port. Nimrod looked at the Fried Company emblem on one of them, then turned to the girl beside him. "It's about time. Let's go."
"Yes, Godfather."
Lumian-na held a glass in one hand and gulped down the beer inside, looking decidedly less than graceful.
After draining the glass, she coughed, her voice full of anticipation for the journey ahead. "I never thought I'd get to go to sea myself-"
"The seas of 1350... do you think I might run into Gehrman Sparrow?"
Lumian-na sounded quite excited. Back when she had still been Lumian, she had been a die-hard fan of the great adventurer Gehrman. Naturally, the chance to meet her idol thrilled her.
At that moment, two guests resided inside Lumian-na. One was a Worm of Time, and the other was also a Worm of Time.
The difference was that one was Amon, tightly sealed by the Fool, while the other was Nimrod's "parasitic form." Nimrod could bring people he had parasitized back to the world of Mystery in 1350, and Lumian-na, under shallow parasitism, naturally qualified.
Meanwhile, the Nimrod standing beside Lumian-na who had just spoken was another of his avatars.
"Gehrman Sparrow..." The corners of Nimrod's mouth curled