Blood Alliance Calendar, Year 456, June 13.
Voyaging on the sea is boring as hell. Maybe I should start keeping a journal.
Might as well start today.
"Captain (Soon-to-be) Log"
Blood Alliance Calendar, Year 456, June 16.
Another day of devilish training. Once again, I felt death breathing down my neck.
Made it through more than 40 minutes today.
Blood Alliance Calendar, Year 456, June 20.
I’m pretty sure Chadite must’ve been put through this kind of training back in the day—no wonder she looks so damn happy seeing us get wrecked like this.
She can’t even be bothered to hide her gloating.
Blood Alliance Calendar, Year 456, June 21.
Broke through the one-hour mark today. Feeling good.
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Blood Alliance Calendar, Year 456, June 22.
Watching myself improve every day is actually kind of exciting.
Today I lasted one hour and five minutes.
Blood Alliance Calendar, Year 456, June 25.
Andre said training’s just about done. With the way our bodies are now, "the touch" isn’t gonna do us any extra harm.
Finally, no more of that nightmare training.
But my record’s stuck at one hour and forty-two minutes.
Blood Alliance Calendar, Year 456, June 26.
Now that the devil training is over, it feels weird. Kinda miss it.
There’s gotta be sothing wrong with , right?
Blood Alliance Calendar, Year 456, June 27.
Boring as hell, just sailing day after day.
Blood Alliance Calendar, Year 456, June 28.
Endless, unchanging ocean. So dull.
Blood Alliance Calendar, Year 456, June 29.
BORED!!!
...
"Bang! Bang! Bang!"
So dull thuds sounded from the deck above.
Alka raised his pistol in his right hand, firing at a target set up not far away.
Other than him, Jason was there too.
Boring ship life—you gotta find sothing to do.
So the two of us decided to practice shooting. There’s a ton of ammo stored on the lower deck anyway, would be a waste not to use it.
No shortage of No.3 pistol rounds either—a perfect chance to get so real practice, and Alka’s not about to let that slip by.
Even the best marksn need mountains of ammo to keep sharp.
Right now, Jason’s dual-wielding two different model revolvers, firing away.
Training right alongside .
Alka emptied the bullets from his own pistol, popped out the cylinder, and reloaded at lightning speed.
He spun the pistol in his hand twice, then smoothly tipped the brim of his hat with the barrel like a showoff.
"How the hell do you even do that?" Jason abandoned all sha and scooted over, eyes full of curiosity.
He figured Alka might be diocre at other stuff, but man, the way he shows off with his gun tricks is real tempting.
Especially that whole routine with popping the cylinder and reloading—looked more like stage magic, way too slick and satisfying to watch.
"Wanna learn?"
"Hell yeah!" Jason nodded.
"You wanna learn, I’ll teach you."
Alka grinned and said, but then grabbed his pistol and checked it out from both sides.
"Bobby really knows his stuff—after he tweaked it, the grip feels even better."
Besides that monstrous training, Alka spent the most ti learning so crafting skills from Bobby.
He even had Bobby tweak a few tiny details on both pistols, just to fit his own quirks and preferences.
Hearing this, Jason checked out his own two pistols: "Guess I’ll need Bobby to do so mods for too."
No sooner thought than done—Jason grabbed his guns and headed straight for the lower deck.
Alka went along to get so dinner while he was at it.
Then he headed back to his own cabin.
By now, the sun had almost completely slipped below the sea, with only a dim yellow afterglow lighting up the world.
Judging by our pace,
we should reach our destination in a few days.
Lying on the bed.
Looking at the magic mirror on the nightstand next to him.
Alka shook his head helplessly.
He got up, wandered to the desk, and picked up a book to flip through.
As night fell, the oil lamp beside him flickered to life.
The ship gradually faded into quiet.
The only sound in the room was the soft rustle of turning pages.
Before I knew it,
I’d dozed off right at the desk.
In a daze, it felt like I’d drifted into a world of darkness all over again.
Now that he sensed he was back here, Alka didn’t bother to freak out.
He was used to it by now.
Ever since getting back on the ship, the magic mirror would sotis pull Alka in.
For no other reason than—
It just wanted to chat.
"Why is your Magic Power still so dead and lifeless?"
A vague, ethereal voice drifted through the darkness.
Alka helplessly tried to get his thoughts across.
Of course, not by actually talking—just by letting the words flood his mind, focusing on what he wanted to say.
Letting his intended ssage echo wildly through his head.
That way, the person trapped in the magic mirror could pick up his anings exactly.
"I’m still on the ship, haven’t started ’the touch’ yet—what do you expect, for it to work overnight?"
"I see, so it hasn’t been long at all."
Alka could understand that—if you’re stuck inside the mirror’s dark world, it’s pretty much impossible to tell how much ti has passed.
Thinking of this, he couldn’t help feeling curious.
"You’ve been trapped in here so long, without anything to keep track of ti—how do you keep yourself sane?"
"I just refuse to go into Deep Sleep. If you’re asleep, you don’t feel the passage of ti, so that way ti won’t ss with your mind."
"Plus, the Soul-Trapping Demon Mirror wasn’t designed to hurt anyone. Its real purpose was to serve as a shelter for souls, so fragile ones at least had sowhere to rest."
What? This thing’s actually... a good guy?
"Of course."
"Don’t go reading my thoughts, okay?"
"Huh? Wasn’t that sothing you ant to say yourself?"
Sigh. Can’t be helped—just how this place works. Any thought that gets too strong, takes over your head, can be heard.
But that was just Alka seriously ranting in his own mind.
Guess my urge to complain was so strong, it beca as loud as what I really wanted to say.
So to chat properly here, you have to keep your intended words dominating your mind. If you suddenly want to crack a sarcastic comnt you don’t really want to voice, it’s bound to get noticed.
This place is a pain in the ass.
"Nothing I can do about that. If your Magic Power were a bit livelier, I could talk to you normally—and even get a look at what the world looks like these days."
"I didn’t an to say that part out loud either!"
"Alright then."
"So, what era did you even live in?"
Alka couldn’t help but ask. It really was his biggest curiosity.
"The Year of Radiance, Mokess Calendar Year 14,655. That’s when I lived. You ever heard of it?"
"Nope, never heard of it at all. Wait—the calendar lasted over fourteen thousand years?"
That’s... a ridiculously long ti for any calendar.
Usually, a calendar matches up with the lifespan of the nation or power that created it. Are there really regis that last over ten thousand years?
That’d have to be an absolute monster of a civilization.
Even in a fantasy world like this, that seems a bit much.
"The Mokess Calendar wasn’t created by any one power. It was created by a god—it’s a god’s calendar."
Alka felt a sharp pain shoot through his head when he heard that.
"You’re out of juice ntally. Let’s chat next ti."
As the words fell, Alka was kicked out of that pitch-black world.
He woke up, head on the desk, eyes open wide.
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