Chapter 21: The Watchful Gaze

As the saying goes, money makes the world go 'round. This morning was proof.

By the time the sun peeked over the horizon, the real estate agents from Haider Housing Trade Company had already delivered the keys and property deed for the tower to Ocean's Breath. Ian wasted no time. He packed his belongings, hoisted WaaWaa onto the carriage, and set off for his new residence.

The journey to the tower was around twenty kilometers, and by the time Ian arrived, the clock was striking eight.

The path veered off the main road onto a smaller trail that led through a stretch of coastal mangroves. After crossing a sandy plain dotted with stunted red trees, the peninsula housing the tower came into view.

A gray-black stone wall, over three meters high, encircled the entire peninsula. A large gate sat in the middle, with the name "Hercules" carved in the lintel above in the common tongue.

Stretching northwest from Paradise Island, the peninsula was a striking natural feature, with the tower standing tall on its northern cliffs. The six-sided, five-story tower loomed over the edge like a vigilant sentinel, its 1,000-square-meter footprint and over-five-meter-high ceilings a testament to its original purpose as a lighthouse.

A central, milky-white pillar of stone—over two meters thick—formed the structural backbone of the tower. This white rock, known as pillarstone, was unique to Paradise Island and had long since been depleted.

To reduce the howling winds that plagued the location, the tower was divided into an inner and outer layer. A spiral staircase hugged the exterior walls, with observation decks at each floor's windows. At the very top, a pointed roof sheltered an open viewing platform.

The inner sections were functional, with rooms circling the pillarstone core and even a water tower installed at the top.

The furniture inside was worn but serviceable, and the entire tower had been scrubbed clean by the time Ian arrived. After a thorough inspection, Ian was satisfied. The dim lighting and constant wind were minor annoyances in an otherwise ideal setup.

Compared to his previous life, where nearly 30 years of renting apartments had been the norm, owning this colossal structure felt like an upgrade worthy of his rebirth.

Leaving WaaWaa—now even larger—on the tower's ground floor, Ian headed out to make arrangements.

There was much to do to make the tower livable: replacing the battered windows, hiring a cook, and ensuring basic provisions were in place.

Two hours later, Ian returned with several craftsmen and a cartful of supplies. While he failed to find a suitable cook, he did manage to arrange for daily meals to be delivered from a nearby tavern.

He instructed the craftsmen to measure the windows, allowing them three days for the repairs. Although Ian had the formula for enchanted glass, making enough for the entire tower would be a waste of time and energy, so he opted for simpler solutions.

After replacing the locks, Ian headed to the bounty hunters' guild, where he stocked up on materials for WaaWaa.

He didn't bring WaaWaa this time—its size now drew too much attention.

On the guild's third floor, Ian prioritized purchasing materials that WaaWaa had previously approved and took a gamble on some unfamiliar ones. This spree cost him a hefty eight enchanted coins—an expense that didn't go unnoticed.

His extravagant spending, equivalent to 800 Divine Grace coins, was enough to make the seasoned bounty hunters gape. Most would struggle to earn that much in a year.

Ian didn't care. His priority was to expedite WaaWaa's growth so he could rescue his sister. Every day spent waiting added to the risk, especially given the unpredictable and arrogant nature of the Second Prince.

Back at the tower, WaaWaa was ecstatic, bouncing around the hall like a child on a sugar high.

"Eat as much as you want!" Ian said with a laugh, gesturing to the materials he'd bought.

WaaWaa's intelligence had grown along with its size, and Ian had begun steering its development toward becoming a living battleship. His sketches—of hulls, decks, watertight compartments, and propellers—lined the walls, visual aids to help WaaWaa understand his vision.

Meanwhile, in a lavish suite at the Speyer Noble Hotel, a man observed Ian through a silver mirror.

"Finally, you've come out," Heistorm sneered, his sallow face lighting up with malicious glee.

The silver mirror suspended before him wasn't reflecting the room but instead showed Ian's figure disappearing into the distance on Central Street.

The real focus of the mirror wasn't Ian but the enchanted bag slung over a servant's shoulder.

As a child, Heistorm had endured immense suffering. His fortune changed when he awakened as a Storm Lord, a native supernatural class, without relying on sequence potions. Reaching Sequence 7 had made him powerful—but also vindictive.

After suffering spiritual backlash in his previous confrontation with Ian, Heistorm had vowed revenge. Convinced Ian possessed powerful anti-divination tools, he resorted to marking materials at the bounty hunters' guild with subtle spiritual imprints. Today, his patience bore fruit.

Through the mirror, Heistorm traced Ian's path to the peninsula and the towering structure on its cliffs.

"So, that's where you're hiding…" he murmured, venom lacing his words.

Unaware of the looming threat, Ian continued his work.

By nightfall, after crafting more enchanted weapon oil, Ian entered a deep meditative state.

In the ethereal expanse of his spiritual world, the Card of Fate radiated a gentle light, illuminating the vast space. The Primal Tree pulsed rhythmically, synchronizing with Ian's breath as his spirit, body, and mana grew stronger.

Since his rebirth, the Primal Tree had expanded by nearly a third, and his spiritual realm had widened significantly. Compared to the body's previous owner, Ian's progress was nothing short of miraculous.

By now, his spiritual energy had reached, if not exceeded, the upper limits of Sequence 9. According to alchemical knowledge, this was the threshold where stability took precedence over advancement. Rushing forward risked spiritual imbalance, with catastrophic consequences.

But Ian's unique physiology, enhanced by the Card of Fate, defied conventional limits. His growth wasn't just rapid—it was unprecedented.

For now, however, caution was his ally. Shadows lurked both within and without, and the path forward promised to be anything but smooth.