The room in the Public Security Bureau was warm and brightly lit. Despite the chaotic situation, it maintained a sense of order—and even offered tea and coffee.

"Name?"

"Laurence Creed."

"Occupation?"

"Captain, captain of the White Oak."

"Affiliated guild?"

"The Explorers' Association. I have the full qualifications of a senior explorer, including certificates in history, occultism, and nautical-related fields. Also... uh, that's it."

"Your reason for coming to Frost?"

Laurence looked up at the bright electric light, thinking for a few seconds. "Actually, I came to deliver goods... goods ordered by your city-state cathedral."

The young recorder sitting across the table scribbled on the paper. After a few strokes, he looked up with a friendly but nervous smile. "Okay, I've noted it. Don't mind, just a routine record. After all, a trip here always needs some documentation. Frost appreciates your help—would you like another sugar cube?"

"Ah, no need, thank you." Laurence awkwardly waved his hand, picked up his coffee cup, took a sip, but couldn't taste anything or feel the temperature because he was still in a spectral state, so he put the cup down again and glanced behind him.

The sailors burning with spectral flames sat in a row on the waiting chairs in the back half of the room. These rude fellows had almost eaten and drunk all the tea and snacks prepared in the office—they didn't mind the loss of taste in their spiritual form, and were completely driven by the mentality of "can't go back at a loss" as they feasted.

They showed no nervousness expected after being "invited" into the Public Security Bureau for disturbing the peace—which was normal, considering that his party had indeed been "invited" in by the security officers with politeness and even a hint of nervous reverence.

Thinking of this, Laurence couldn't help but feel a bit embarrassed, but because his face was covered in flames, others probably couldn't see his expression.

"I heard you were initially assisting the gatekeepers in the cathedral district. Why were you wandering around the upper city afterwards? And... causing such a big commotion?"

The young recorder responsible for registration across the table asked curiously and cautiously.

"Those were some... small accidents," Laurence said with a hint of shame, trying to figure out how to explain the complex situation—how should he explain it? Should he say that after leading a group of sailors in a big ruckus, they still had too much energy, so they decided to take a walk around the city to buy some local specialties to take back to Prand, but because the ghost fire was difficult to control, the flames that had been restrained somehow "ignited" again when the sun rose?

It literally "ignited"—right on the crossroads, in broad daylight.

The Abnormality 077, who had been hiding in the team wrapped in a robe, was also taken aback and jumped from the sailors to the sidewalk.

As a result, security officers from three streets were called in within five minutes, and men, women, and children in the upper city rushed to report.

Laurence thought for a long time, but found it difficult to tell the truth. If he said something random, he might be suspected of "damaging the reputation of the Forsaken Fleet"—although the Forsaken Fleet didn't seem to have a good reputation in the mortal world, at least not this kind of reputation.

So he could only smile awkwardly again and casually perfunctory: "We were curious about the city and neglected to conceal our tracks for a while..."

The crackling sound of flames suddenly rang out. Laurence casually patted the green flames on his arm and checked whether the armrest of the chair had been scorched by the spirit fire. After confirming that it was okay, he looked up at the young man across from him with a sincere expression and a smile.

"...Can you temporarily extinguish this terrible flame?"

"I'm trying—though maybe not very obviously."

"...Thank you for your cooperation. You can wait here for a while. I have a few more questions to ask your... subordinates."

The young recorder wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, trying to maintain a calm and friendly expression. Then he took a deep breath before turning to look at another figure beside the table—a guy who looked suspicious no matter how you looked at him, who was also waiting for "routine business."

Wearing an old-fashioned sailor's smock, a sailor's hat that didn't quite fit on his head, a shriveled, hideous-looking dried corpse.

Noticing the gaze on him, the dried corpse immediately raised his head, a ghastly smile on his face: "Interrogation? I understand that. Ask away."

"Uh... okay," the recorder wiped the cold sweat from his forehead again, cursing the supervisor who had arranged for him to work here today, envying the colleagues who could patrol the streets, while trying to make his tone sound calmer, "Name?"

"'Sailor,' that's what I'm called." The dried corpse answered immediately.

"Sailor... uh, okay, Occupation?"

"Abnormality."

The recorder looked up blankly: "Huh?"

"Abnormality," the dried corpse said honestly, pointing to his shriveled head, "Or in more detail, Abnormality 077."

The recorder seemed to turn into a statue. After a few seconds, Laurence heard a clear gulp.

"Ahem, there are very complicated reasons for this," Laurence coughed twice, his voice finally jolting the recorder, who was almost in a daze, awake. "Don't worry, when your church's person in charge comes, I will find a way to explain and register it clearly."

Listening to the old captain's words, the recorder still seemed to be in a daze. The expression on his face changed rapidly several times before he opened his mouth, as if he wanted to say something, but before he could speak, a whirlwind of pale smoke suddenly swept through the office—

The gray wind whirled, and a blind priestess in a black dress walked out of the wind, followed by a slightly ethereal and hoarse female voice: "I'm here."

The recorder, who was almost at the limit of his nervous tension, and whose sanity had even begun to waver, immediately grabbed a life-saving straw, almost "bouncing" out of his chair: "Ah, Ms. Agatha! You're finally here! The situation here is a bit..."

"I know, the situation is complicated, so I came to deal with it myself," Agatha waved her hand before the unlucky recorder could finish speaking, then turned to Laurence, her pale lips slightly upturned, her tone a bit strange. "I thought you had already left."

"We were planning to leave..." Laurence said with a dry smile, but the tense nerves in his heart still couldn't help but relax a bit—no matter what, he and this "gatekeeper" had fought side by side. Although the whole process was full of chaos, weirdness, evil, and countless emergencies, at least one thing was certain: everyone was "the same kind of person."

Agatha opposite seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. She waved to the recorder next to her, indicating that he could leave, and the young man immediately escaped from the office with a sense of amnesty.

Then Agatha sighed, as if with deep helplessness and fatigue, signaling Captain Laurence and his party to be calm. After that, she concentrated her mind and said in her mind: "I've found them. They're all at the Public Security Bureau... Situation? The situation is very good, and their appetite seems very good... Yes, I understand. I'll take care of the aftermath... Don't worry, they haven't caused much trouble, just a little bit of public panic. You know, everyone is very nervous now...

"Also, I have something else to report to you. There is an out-of-control Abnormality... Yes, an out-of-control Abnormality, number 077, named 'Sailor.' This dried corpse is acting with them...

"Let them go to you? I understand. To Oak Street... Ah, okay, understood."

After a long time, Agatha breathed a sigh of relief and looked up at Captain Laurence.

Although black cloth covered her eyes, a substantial gaze seemed to penetrate the thick strips of cloth, causing the old captain to feel some pressure.

The latter vaguely reacted: "You were talking to 'him' just now?"

"Yes, and he has orders," Agatha nodded, her expression becoming serious. "He wants you to see him."

"See him?" Laurence's heart skipped a beat, and his tone couldn't help but become a little nervous. "You mean..."

"The Forsaken, currently staying in the outer seas of Frost. Captain Tirian will tell you the approximate location—the Sea Mist and your White Oak are now docked in a port. You can see them when you get to the pier," Agatha said lightly. "Go to the outer seas to find him. Don't worry about missing it. When you get close, your ship will know what to do. Just let it sail itself."

Laurence swallowed subconsciously, looking at the sailors he had brought, who also stood up, each with obvious tension in their eyes.

He turned to look beside him and saw Abnormality 077, who was prostrate on the ground and crawling towards the door little by little.

Several sailors rushed forward and dragged him back, ignoring the dried corpse's violent struggles.

Laurence slowly withdrew his gaze from the chaos and looked at Agatha in front of him with trepidation.

"Did... did he say what he wanted us to do?"

"No, but he said it was just a friendly invitation, so don't be too nervous..."

As soon as she finished speaking, before Laurence could open his mouth, Abnormality 077, under the control of several sailors, began to howl like a ghost: "I! Don't! Believe! It!!"

"Shut him up," Laurence turned his head and shouted. Then he took a few deep breaths, trying to calm his breath, before nodding lightly to Agatha. "I understand. I will go to the appointment."

"Relax, you really don't need to be nervous," Agatha smiled when she saw this. "Actually... he is truly a more peaceful and friendly existence than anyone imagines."

"I know," Laurence spread his hands with a wry smile. "But tension is not something that is easily eliminated. It can probably only change after we go to the appointment and actually meet 'him.'"

"Anyway, I wish you all the best," Agatha nodded slightly, then casually asked, "Is there anything else? Although the current state of Frost is not good, I will try my best to help as long as I can."

When Laurence heard this, he really showed a thoughtful expression, and then reached into his arms.

After a while, he took out a piece of paper from his arms that looked a bit illusory and transparent due to the burning of the spirit fire and handed it to Agatha.

"What is this?"

"This is the manifest—the goods ordered by your cathedral have all been delivered to the port," Laurence said, his tone hesitant. "Can this order... still be settled?"

Agatha was stunned instantly.

The gatekeeper of Frost City-State, the temporary archbishop, the "messenger" of the Fire Thief, the resolute and intelligent Ms. Agatha—never expected this scene.

After a silence of more than ten seconds, the "blind nun" finally nodded, as if gritting her teeth to speak: "...Settle."

(End of chapter)