Chapter Sixteen: Fifty Spark Points Credited

The Lord of the Deep Sea desires this book?

At that instant, Chen Zi’ang felt an overwhelming urge to report to headquarters immediately. Anything that could attract a deity’s attention was certainly no harmless trinket; it was the most rational choice to let the intelligence division handle such a thing.

However...

If he were to hand it over to headquarters, he’d have to explain how he came by it. Since he hadn’t been wearing his law enforcement recorder, the subsequent investigation by the oversight division would become exceptionally strict—a hassle he’d rather not invite upon himself.

Typically, when encountering a potential anomaly risk, agents would feign having just arrived, report to their unit that “I suspect there’s a source of mysterious contamination here,” and then let colleagues equipped with recorders take over—allowing themselves to bow out gracefully.

But now, Chen Zi’ang was in dire need of a large amount of Soulfire, so after only a brief hesitation, he decided to slightly bend the rules.

For a Sixth Division operative, the paramount objective was resolving anomalies—in other words, so long as the anomaly was dealt with, the means were secondary. Besides, the division would never discover what had transpired here.

He turned his gaze once more to the book with the dark red cover.

The Shadow Cloak indicated this was a diary, and his intuition did not sense any acute threat. This suggested the book was likely just someone’s journal, but contained forbidden arcane knowledge that rendered it capable of mental contamination.

Even if Miss Kikuchi had no awareness of its existence, lingering in the mansion for any length of time would likely cause her psychic perception to rise slowly.

Naturally, directly reading the diary would accelerate this process, possibly leading to physical loss of control and signs of mutation.

Thus, most Sixth Division operatives, even if they obtained this diary, would never dare read it themselves, but would hand it over to the intelligence division for analysis.

Yet Chen Zi’ang had the Shadow Cloak medal, which could forcibly lock his psychic perception at a normal level—making him far less concerned about the risk of mental contamination.

Driven by his need to delve into the arcane, he decided to first confirm the book’s contents, then determine whether to sacrifice it to the Lord of the Deep Sea.

After once more checking with his intuition to ensure there was no danger, Chen Zi’ang retrieved a pair of disposable gloves from his pocket and carefully took the diary from the shelf.

The moment his fingers touched the cover, it felt perfectly ordinary—just regular leather.

He removed the diary and gingerly flipped through its pages. Its contents were written in the Common Tongue and filled with trivial entries like “March 4th, ate a sandwich,” “March 5th, spent all day in class,” and other such drivel.

From the scant useful information, he gathered that the diary’s owner—Miss Kikuchi’s grandfather—had indeed studied abroad in the Meneus Federation, the homeland of the elves, for six years, majoring in archaeology.

His reason for choosing archaeology was simple: researching his family’s history had revealed that the Kikuchi clan had ancient roots in the Takamagahara star sector, extending back to the era when interstellar pirates still held sway. Back then, they were revered as an “ancient priestly family” by all major pirate factions.

How could such a venerable lineage have fallen so far into obscurity?

Lacking sufficient historical records, Miss Kikuchi’s grandfather resolved to pursue archaeology, hoping to uncover traces of the family’s past.

Chen Zi’ang quickened his search, suddenly noticing that many pages toward the end had been torn out at the base.

Was this Miss Kikuchi’s doing? No, it was more likely her grandfather’s. The last remaining page’s handwriting was disordered and frantic, a classic symptom of severe mental contamination:

“…At last, I understand the cause of our family’s downfall. In this universe, survival is not an inalienable right; every gift is balanced by an equal cost. The planet Takamagahara was never suited for human colonization. Only through a pact between the Kikuchi family and a certain deity did we secure our place there—at the price of a curse that has haunted us ever since.

I cannot leave Its name here, for even the mere knowledge of Its existence brings madness and self-destruction. Thus, I intend to carry these wicked, forbidden secrets with me into my coffin, hoping the truth will be buried with me in the endless layers of rock, never to be unearthed again.”

Chen Zi’ang: …………

Is that it? Is that really it?

You’ve said nothing at all!

According to his intuition, the book became a source of mental contamination precisely because of the information recorded on this final page: the revelation that the Kikuchi family had once bargained with a deity. That knowledge itself carried a contagious, arcane nature.

Miss Kikuchi’s recurring dream of lying in a coffin likely stemmed from the same psychic corruption. From what the notebook suggested, her grandfather realized he was about to mutate, and after hastily finishing the final page, chose to end his life in a coffin.

As for why the Lord of the Deep Sea wanted this diary—could it be due to an interest in the mysterious deity who once made a pact with the Kikuchi family?

Although, for his sister’s sake, Chen Zi’ang had no choice but to risk his life to barter with deities, that didn’t mean he was foolish enough to go prying into the dangerous secrets between gods.

So, after reviewing the diary once more to ensure he’d missed nothing, he gave a sharp flick of his gloved hand, silently intoning, “Sacrifice to the Lord of the Deep Sea.”

The sensation in his hand vanished instantly. At the same time, the Shadow Cloak medallion against his collar pulsed, and in his mind, the fifty Soulfire points were credited to his account.

Now, what power should he exchange for?

In the living room, Miss Kikuchi was still chatting amiably with Suzuna Tsukimiya, when she suddenly noticed a change in the atmosphere around her.

To be precise, the lingering chill that had pervaded the area abruptly vanished.

“How odd—did the heating just come back on?” Miss Kikuchi wondered aloud.

“Perhaps so.” Suzuna Tsukimiya replied with a bright smile. “Miss Kikuchi, your stories are truly fascinating.”

She saw Chen Zi’ang beckoning from the foyer and smiled again.

“Well, we shouldn’t impose any longer.”

“Let me see you out,” Miss Kikuchi said, rising quickly.

Once they’d left the Kikuchi residence, Suzuna Tsukimiya grinned and asked, “Senior, did you find anything?”

“No…” Chen Zi’ang began to deny it instinctively, but recalling Suzuna’s good character, he relented and offered a hint: “It was a book containing forbidden knowledge. In any case, I’ve dealt with it—nothing to worry about.”

“Oh, I see.” Suzuna drew out the syllables, then continued forward with a light step, showing little inclination to press for more.

“Let’s keep this from the division,” Chen Zi’ang reminded her. “After all, we weren’t wearing our law enforcement recorders, so we technically shouldn’t have been on duty. If the oversight division finds out, they’ll give us trouble.”

“Yes, extraordinary circumstances call for flexible measures,” Suzuna replied understandingly. “We can’t just ignore a potential anomaly, after all.”

“Exactly. You’re learning quickly,” Chen Zi’ang said with genuine satisfaction.

“I think so too,” Suzuna replied mischievously. “So, when we meet my father later, you’ll have to speak well of me, Senior.”

Chen Zi’ang: ???

Before he could react, a luxury sedan pulled up on the road ahead and came to a stop beside them.