Chapter Seventeen: The Containment Bureau’s Rigorous Selection

The young man’s predicament left Ethan dumbfounded—this wasn’t the new era… no, it was an old-fashioned scam! Although the times were backward, the technology was far ahead, skipping the tedious process of forced drinking; just three sentences and the customer had already paid one gold lion!

Ethan lingered among the crowd a while longer as an onlooker. He saw the youth being led away by a burly man, the ringleader of the scam, to a loan shark. The quick loan of one gold lion was taken, and after the con artist pocketed the money, the young man sank into utter despair. His gaze was vacant, like a puppet on strings, forcing a grim smile.

He had already given up on himself.

Ethan’s understanding of the dangers lurking in Hearthbay deepened, and his spirits sank—not only for this nameless youth before him but also for his own plan to acquire the free skill book. He had thought to find a bookstore to browse without buying, but judging by the ruthless nature of Hearthbay’s merchants, merely touching a book’s cover might lead to being forced to purchase it.

Forget it.

Following the crowd aboard the merchant ship, Ethan observed enough to roughly understand its layout. The ship’s deck was an area for casual visitors with temporary stalls selling everything from food and wine to exotic trinkets. The ship’s management charged these vendors a daily fee of ten gold lions for their spots.

Permanent shops were all located within the ship’s holds. Compared to the chaotic deck, these official shops were much more orderly.

There was a scroll shop, a potion boutique, and a tavern for purchasing intelligence.

Of course, if patrons wished, they could also “entertain” themselves there. While sightseeing, Ethan was stopped by a veiled girl clad in a dancer’s long skirt blocking his path.

One gold lion just to catch a glimpse of her face, with many additional services inside.

He promptly declared himself a zero-spender and, under the disdainful gaze of the dancer, moved on elsewhere.

Ethan held firmly to one principle: just browse. He didn’t want to spend a single coin. Yet, as he passed by the occult bookstore and saw a notice board advertising “Reading Day: Everything Half Price,” he couldn’t help but feel a flicker of temptation.

Not bringing a credit card had been a wise choice.

Mugram’s equipment shop was easy to find, situated in the most prominent spot inside the second ship’s hold.

“Old Mugram’s Spirit Shop.” When Ethan saw the sign followed by “Containment Bureau Certified,” he knew he’d come to the right place.

No one without connections would dare to put “Containment Bureau” on their signboard.

Upon entering, Ethan’s eyes were immediately drawn to the dazzling array of goods on the shelves—bottled potions, sprays, toolkits. These seemingly unrelated items were stacked together, creating a strong visual impact. The shop’s layout resembled a library, with shelves lined up side by side, leaving only narrow aisles barely wide enough for two people to pass. Once inside, one was completely surrounded by merchandise.

“Hiring new recruits at the Bureau?” a weathered voice came from behind the counter.

“Hello, I am… a Treant!?” Ethan gestured toward the creature standing behind the counter like a mascot. He hadn’t greeted it upon entering because it hardly looked alive.

Ivy had never mentioned Mugram’s race.

Its dry bark-like skin, close to brown in color, made anyone see it as a magical artifact placed in the shop.

It was the first time in two years since his crossing that Ethan had seen such a rare species as a Treant.

“You’re not a Treant; I am,” came the obvious reply. “I’m Mugram, the shop owner. You can call me Old Mug.”

Realizing his mistake, Ethan quickly clarified his stance. “Sorry, it’s my first time seeing another race, but rest assured, I support racial harmony.”

“Don’t be so nervous. I used to work at the Containment Bureau too, just like you.”

Though the Treant’s face was expressionless, Ethan detected nostalgia in his words. “That was over a decade ago. I was young once, too.”

“Greetings, senior,” Ethan said, taking the initiative to break the ice. Though the idea of a Treant investigator felt incongruous, he stated his purpose clearly. “I’m here to purchase basic equipment today.”

“Hmm, let me see… It’s for the Creekwood Town Intelligence Station, a reservation for a ‘Basic Pack,’ already prepared.”

The Treant flipped through the inventory list with stiff fingers. “Also booked is the matching tutorial. Have you used this equipment before?”

He bent down to retrieve a box filled with sprays and potions from the shelves.

Starting with the sprays, he twisted off a cap and lightly pressed a slender index finger against the spray’s seal. “‘Dark Creature Repellent 3.0.’ This version adds the Ghost Toad and Goblin to the repellent list, a major technical advancement. It even affects humans to some degree.”

“It works on humans too?”

“It causes no real harm, but it contains a pungent odor. The formula includes SI-0733 mucus—a waste product ten times more foul-smelling than human feces. Even a tiny smear will make others think you’ve fallen into a cesspit.”

“Don’t spray that at me!”

Ethan reacted swiftly, dodging behind a shelf in surprise. He hadn’t expected this first item to be akin to a biochemical weapon.

“Huh? That won’t do. You’ll have to get used to this smell sooner or later.”

“...Why should I get used to this smell?”

An ominous feeling crept into Ethan’s mind.

The Treant was unfazed and smiled. “Do you know how to use the spray?”

“When dark creatures charge at me, I spray it in their faces!”

Ethan was resolute; he believed this was the spray’s only proper use.

“You’re a complete rookie. If you do that, you’re as good as dead. The correct way is to spray it on yourself as soon as they detect your presence or when you realize dark creatures are nearby.

“Don’t underestimate the research department’s wisdom. Data shows that most known dark creatures have an aversion to waste products. So if you make yourself smell like waste, they instantly lose interest. In that regard, they’re somewhat like humans—after all, no sane person attacks a pile of feces.”

Ethan suspected Old Mug of personal insult but lacked proof.

He also considered the advice and thought, how was this any different from a suicide truck?

He made a decision.

From now on, under no circumstances would he use Dark Creature Repellent 3.0 on himself.

“Teach me something else instead,” Ethan peeked out, scanning the potions. The black viscous liquids inside emitted an ominous aura, so he skipped those and pointed at a device next to the box resembling an old-fashioned pager, initiating conversation. “What’s this for?”

“‘Where Are the Dark Creatures 2.1.’ It fixed a flaw in 2.0, which had been rendered ineffective by cult rituals to dark gods. Simply put, it’s a detector. You’ll be dealing with it daily.”

Ethan breathed a sigh of relief; this sounded more normal. “This detector senses the presence of dark creatures?”

“More precisely, it detects the ‘stance waves’ they emit. The 2.0 version added a rating system: blue means all clear, yellow indicates weak stance waves nearby, and red—”

The Treant’s explanation abruptly stopped.

This was a routine demonstration, yet the detector’s needle jumped immediately to the extreme edge of the red zone upon activation, almost as if it might overload.

But this was the merchant ship of the Lofick family. How could uncontrollable dark creatures be present?

“What does red mean?”

Ethan swallowed hard. In truth, he had a vague guess but didn’t want to accept it.

His position faced the entrance of Old Mugram’s Spirit Shop, where he saw a heavy-footed figure approaching. Each step caused the ground to tremble. The mask bore bloodshot eyes, locking its gaze on him.

In that moment, Ethan thought this tragic world was about to meet its end.

The figure’s clothes were soaked, clinging wetly to her, outlining her graceful curves. Yet Ethan had no time to appreciate the sight. When she stood before him, he struggled to speak, “Uh, why are your clothes all wet?”

A laugh, like a demon’s from hell, came beneath the mask. She raised a hand, gently cupping Ethan’s face with water-soaked leather gloves.

“Yes, why are my clothes so drenched?”

Ethan smelled the sea breeze.

It left him dazed, his mind consumed by one thought.

This unstoppable rage and hatred…

Clearly, it was Uchiha Obito come for revenge!