Chapter 164 - 150: Peat Bog

The next morning, the innkeeper’s wife brought out a pot of oatmeal with a generous amount of molasses mixed in.

Beside the oatmeal was a plate of salted fish, pan-fried to a golden brown, resting on two slices of toasted dark bread.

When Edmund came downstairs, he was wearing an old coat Captain Field had lent him.

He went from looking like a preparatory priest from the Divinity School to one of the Northern Mountain People.

He sat down at the long table, warmed his hands before the fireplace for a moment, and only then picked up his bowl.

"How are you feeling today?" Richard asked, sitting down across from him.

Edmund took a spoonful of oatmeal. It tasted a bit bland, so he stirred in some honey.

"This morning while I was getting ready, I did a self-check in the mirror."

"Did you see anything?"

"I saw an Edmond Wickliffe who was a bit paler than usual." He took another spoonful of oatmeal. "And that’s all."

Richard smiled and didn’t press the matter.

Maggie was the last one downstairs. She had added a scarf over her cloak, wrapping it three times around her neck until it was tucked under her chin.

"Is the place we’re going today even colder?"

"A swamp," Captain Field said without looking up. "A damp cold."

"..." Maggie tightened her scarf, shrinking down into her collar until only half her face was showing.

Over the meal, Captain Field briefly laid out the day’s plan.

"About three miles north, there’s a small peat bog."

He used his fork to trace an imaginary line on the tabletop.

"An archaeology team went over the area the year before last. They dug up eleven Bronze Age ’Swamp Mummies,’ all of which were sent to the museum in the Imperial Capital."

"Mummies? I thought you only found those in the Black Earth River Basin?" Theodore’s fork paused mid-air.

"’Mummy’ is just a term I’m using to make it easier for you to understand. The locals call them ’pickled corpses.’ If I were to describe the actual preservation process, you’d probably lose your appetite."

"The acidity of the peat can preserve a body for thousands of years," Mr. Hutton added. "Skin, hair, internal organs—everything can be preserved."

"Thousands of years?" Theodore was so shocked, his piece of salted fish nearly fell onto the table.

"The oldest one was carbon-dated to 1800 years before the New Era."

"That swamp was a ’Water Burial Ground’ for Druid Priests during the Bronze Age."

"Every summer and winter solstice, they would push living people into the swamp as an offering to some unknown entity lurking beneath the water."

"Is it one of the Exotic Gods from the official registry?" Edmund asked, frowning as he looked to Mr. Hutton.

"Its name has long been lost," the old man said, shaking his head.

"Druids rarely kept written records. Their traditions were passed down entirely through oral history."

After the Romans arrived, entire generations of their Priests were wiped out, leaving very few stories behind."

Just then, Richard finished the last of the oatmeal in his bowl.

"Sir, about this swamp we’re going to today..."

He recalled something he had read in a book and began to reason aloud,

"With so many people pushed into the water to die, it must be a Blood Soaking Point."

"And since the sacrifices were performed repeatedly, that also makes it a Sacrificial Scar."

"When two types of weak points like these overlap, doesn’t that make the area far more dangerous than a place with just one?"

Captain Field let out a smile, but it was a cold one.

"An excellent question, Williams."

"The proper name for the place we’re going today is ’Living Sacrifice Point.’"

"Yesterday at the Highland Summer House, an Enchanting Lamp was the most basic thing we’d find. A Lower-rank Evil Being like a Fall-Inducing Fire was the absolute limit."

"Today in the peat bog, the weakest thing we’ll face is a common Swamp Corpse, which is considered a pretty tough type among the Lower-rank Evil Beings."

"For mid-tier threats, there are Salted Coal Walkers, another type of Lower-rank Evil Being."

"And if our luck is the absolute worst..." Captain Field’s gaze swept across the Newcomers’ faces. "We’ll encounter a ’Swamp Sacrificial Mother.’"

"What’s that?" Theodore gulped.

"It’s a unique entity created when a pregnant woman is used as a living sacrifice," Mr. Hutton interjected. "It’s still classified as a Lower-rank Evil Being, but it’s exceptionally difficult to deal with."

"...So for today, we’re..."

"We don’t engage it," Sarah said, assembling her rifle with a series of sharp clicks.

"If it surfaces today, the Captain and I will handle it. The four of you are not to get involved."

Richard heard this and began to ponder silently.

’If a Blood Soaking Point and a Sacrificial Scar can combine...’

’...what if a place was a Blood Soaking Point, a Sacrificial Scar, a Drowning Line, and a Place Where Stars Hanging all at once...’

’...a place with all four layered on top of each other... what would that even be like?’

’Could such a patch of land even exist, one that contains all four elements simultaneously?’

’Repeated bloodshed from tribal wars, repeated rituals by native Shaman castes, a coastline dense with shipwrecks, and the place itself situated atop a lone mountain thousands of meters high...’

Richard took a sip of his ginger tea, forcing the thought out of his mind.

’No use thinking about this now.’

"Williams," Mr. Hutton said suddenly.

Richard looked up.

"What was on your mind just now?" The old man’s gaze was calm.

Richard hesitated.

"I was wondering... if it’s possible for multiple weak points to compound."

"Blood Soaking Points and Sacrificial Scars can overlap, so I was wondering if a Drowning Line and a Place Where Stars Hanging could be added to the mix."

"What would a place with all four combined be like?"

Mr. Hutton sighed.

"Williams," the old man said, "when I was your age, I asked my own Mentor that very same question."

"And what was your Mentor’s answer?"

"He didn’t answer," Mr. Hutton said, lifting his teacup.

"He told me to write down the question, seal it in an envelope, and open it only after I turned thirty."

"And did you open it?"

Mr. Hutton took a sip of his tea.

"I did. Inside was the very question I had written back then. My Mentor had added a line of his own beneath it."

"What did it say?"

"’My boy, ask this question again once you have achieved Grand Mastery.’"

Richard understood.

"I haven’t even achieved Minor Mastery," Mr. Hutton said with a self-deprecating laugh. "So I can’t answer that question for you."

"But..." The old man’s voice turned serious. "If you ever do reach that level, you will find the answer for yourself."

"Until then," Mr. Hutton said, gently setting his teacup back on the table, "you only need to remember one thing."

"Those kinds of places are always blank on a map. And some places are blank because no one who goes there ever comes back."

"I understand."

"Finish your breakfast. We leave in half an hour." Captain Field slapped the table, decisively ending the conversation.

The sky was just beginning to lighten as their carriage left the village.

The driver had a larger carriage for them today, its cargo bed covered with a canvas tarp.

The tarp had been treated with oil, so it would keep out the rain and snow.

The road North was even more difficult than the path to the Highland Summer House had been the day before.

The first half of the journey followed wagon ruts, but the second half was nothing more than a dirt track beaten down by livestock.

The carriage jostled violently on the rough track. Sometimes a wheel would sink into a mud-filled rut, and the driver would have to get out and lead the horses to maneuver it free.

After about an hour and a half, the driver stopped the carriage at the top of a small slope.

"This is as far as we can go. The swamp’s just ahead. The carriage will get stuck if we try to go any further."

They all disembarked.

The moment he stepped onto the ground, Richard felt the dampness underfoot.

The whole area was saturated, and a damp chill crept steadily upward from his calves to his knees, and then to the small of his back.

A vast, gray-brown lowland covered in a thin layer of ice spread out before them.

In the distance, a large rock jutted out from the center of the swamp.

The top of the rock had a depression, its shape unclear from this distance, but they could see a pool of dark water collected within it.

The water was not frozen.

Richard swept his Spiritual Vision over it, but the pool of water seemed bottomless; he couldn’t see what lay beneath.

"You feel it, don’t you?" Captain Field said, walking up beside him.

He turned to face the four Newcomers.

"Listen up. I’m going to go over the plan one more time."

"Sarah and I are going in first."

"We’ll clear out the most dangerous ones and leave a few ordinary Swamp Corpses for you to get some practice."

"While we’re doing the clearing, the four of you will stay here on the hilltop."

"Use your Spiritual Vision and watch carefully."

"In our line of work, watching how veterans do their job is more useful than fumbling around on your own."

Edmund nodded. "Yes, sir."

Sarah pulled her rifle from its leather scabbard and finished assembling it.

"Let’s go."

The two Hunters started down the slope, already completing a Shallow Shore dive as they walked.

Richard, Edmund, Maggie, and Theodore remained on the hilltop.

Sarah led the way, with Captain Field following half a step behind her.

In his Spiritual Vision, Sarah’s energy flow was steady and deep, like a current moving in a single, unwavering direction.

Captain Field’s energy, however, was scorching and ferocious, surging turbulently with every pulse.

"Is that what Hunters look like when they’re no longer conserving their energy?" Richard whispered to Maggie.

"Mhm," Maggie nodded. "My brother’s is the same way."

"What about Lady Sarah’s?"

Maggie looked again, her eyes narrowing.

"She might have an inheritance from the Moon-Hunting Tradition. Even though she’s still just a Practitioner, she’s already tapped into the minor arts of the lunar phases."

"Lunar phases?"

"The waxing and waning of the moon affects her condition," the freckled girl answered vaguely.