The Handbook for Completing Demi-Human Girls

Chapter 281: Flying Fish

Fisher's gaze landed on the neat wooden ship swaying on the distant ocean. The weather was clear; not long after Alajina had left, he strutted behind the hotel to the place where he had met Jesse, but the man was nowhere to be seen. It seemed he had gone to set up his stall at the Magic Market.

So, Fisher paid a hotel waiter two gold coins to find Jesse at the Magic Market, while he and the book, Emhart, continued to stay there to observe the ship's condition.

That ship was currently being watched by a local gang from the Patroshen Islands, but strictly speaking, it wasn't a very tight watch. After all, according to Jesse, the Flying Fish had been impounded by them for a long time. Even if the gang wanted to get something out of this pioneer ship that had sailed to many places, their patience had long been worn away by time.

"Fisher, Fisher! I can feel it. That book is on the deck below, positioned near the stern! And I feel like there's more than one, because the scent of knowledge is just too rich. I really can't imagine what kind of situation it would be for such a rich scent to be hidden in a single book... Could it contain some world-shaking secret?"

Fisher didn't respond to Emhart's excitement; he was considering whether he should leave a conspicuous trail for Elizabeth. Thinking it over carefully, given how well Elizabeth knew him, being too deliberate might actually increase her suspicions. It would be bad if she turned her forces around to settle the score with the already departed Alajina.

"Don't be in a rush. If everything goes smoothly, we'll be leaving the Patroshen Islands for the Northern Border on this ship tonight. You can read whatever you want then, but until then..."

"Sir, the person you were looking for has been brought over. If there's nothing else, I'll head back to the hotel to busy myself."

Fisher glanced back at the old man, Jesse, who had been brought over by the waiter. The man still looked drunk in the broad daylight. Hearing the waiter's voice next to him, he impatiently brushed off the hand placed on him and began to ramble,

"What is it, what is it? My things are still in the market and haven't been packed away. Will you pay for them if they get lost? What exactly is... Wait, it's you?! Why are you still here instead of leaving with the Iceberg Queen?"

Seeing Fisher in front of him, Jesse was somewhat in disbelief. The Iceberg Queen leaving the Patroshen Islands this morning made quite a commotion. He thought Fisher had broken his promise and left without telling Alajina about his ship. Because of this, he had even drunk a few mouthfuls of depressing alcohol this morning, yet he didn't expect Fisher to show up here all alone now."Haven't we left a little unfinished business... regarding your Flying Fish?"

"...There might have been a chance when the Iceberg Queen was here earlier, but now, forget about it. My ship has been impounded by a gang on the island. They won't hand over the key to the engine without gold. Do you think you can charge in there alone, kill them all, and snatch the key?"

Jesse didn't know Fisher well, so naturally he didn't believe that Fisher could snatch his Flying Fish back all by himself. In reality, local gangs like this usually weren't equipped with highly lethal magic. Combined with his own magic and an eighth-tier constitution, Fisher had the confidence to swallow the entire gang whole.

But he had quieter methods to take the key; there was no need to consider this inferior plan.

"You just need to tell me where they keep the key to start the ship; I'll handle the rest. After getting the key, promise me two things: take me to the Northern Border, and let my book friend on my shoulder read the books collected on your ship."

Emhart, on Fisher's shoulder, fought the urge to jump for joy, merely giving a rather dignified cough before shooting Fisher a highly satisfied look, wearing a smug expression that said, 'You haven't let down my daily cultivation of you.'

Jesse, on the other hand, had a strange look on his face as he glanced at the lone Fisher... oh no, Fisher plus a book. He was skeptical about whether Fisher could actually steal his ship back.

"You want to sneak the key out? No, that won't work at all. They have other ships. Look at those small boats moored by the sea. Even though my Flying Fish was the fastest ship back in the day, so many years have passed; she's grown old, just like me."

"You just need to tell me if you agree to my deal."

"...Fine, if you can rescue my ship from those guys, I'll honor my promise and take you to the Northern Border, and you guys can look at the books I've kept on the bookshelves on the ship. Oh, right, the key should be in their accounting room, assuming there are no surprises. It's that room near the coast, do you see it? Let me warn you, the boss of the Warren gang is stingy and usually sleeps in the accounting room. Be careful."

Jesse pointed to a room near the coast in the distance, showing Fisher the way. Fisher nodded and told Jesse to wait for him here tonight; he would bring the key back for him. Then, he left, leaving a skeptical Jesse standing there, watching his receding figure.

The night over the Patroshen Islands featured a bright moon and sparse stars. The noisy sea breeze swept the rather cold night temperature against Fisher's face by the coast, making him take a few deep breaths to expel the bit of pressure from his chest.

For some reason, ever since he learned that Erwind had passed on his information to Elizabeth, he felt a bit guilty, fearing that Nazareth's warships might directly sail over to attack the Patroshen Islands and capture him. This sense of uncertainty made him decide to speed up the process of leaving the Patroshen Islands; he couldn't stay here any longer.

In the afternoon, he had roughly figured out the layout of this local gang and bought some magic materials to carry with him. Crucially, there was also food. From here to the Northern Border would take twenty-something days, nearly a month's journey. Fresh water could be solved with magic, but food had to be carefully rationed. He didn't want to catch fish from the sea to eat every day.

As the night gradually darkened, Fisher placed the food and magic materials he had bought onto a small boat. Then, while heading towards the gang's coastal territory, he pulled out transparent magic threads from his hand. With a slight twitch of his fingers, the ends of the threads were flung onto the mechanical structures at the rear of those small boats on the sea. The threads wound around and around, deftly pulling at the gears and other embedded parts inside.

This was prep work to prevent them from catching up to the Flying Fish later. For a senior member of the Saint-Nazareth Magic Association to deal with an overseas gang with practically no anti-magic experience was far too simple. As he worked, Fisher began to feel a bit bored and couldn't help but glance at the jumping-for-joy book on his shoulder, not understanding what he was so happy about.

"I'm not sure where they hung that key, so I'll have to rely on you to slip in and get it out... The Flying Fish is an old model; the key is proprietary, so you'll definitely recognize what it looks like at a glance. I'll wait for you outside."

Emhart, who had been extremely excited just a moment ago, instantly drooped his expression upon hearing that he needed to work. He shot an annoyed glance at Fisher next to him. It was unclear if he had recalled his painful experience of being caught and whipped by Baimon in the Demon Abyss, but he seemed a bit uneasy.

"Are you sure there's no... uh, magic or anything inside? Besides, I'm so big; what if I'm discovered? How about this: after we take the key, let's just ignore that smelly old man. Didn't you say he harbors ill intentions toward us anyway? Wouldn't it be better to just dump him here?"

"Your stupidity truly opens my eyes... There's only one reason he wants to board the ship, and only one reason the gang impounded it: there's a very precious treasure hidden on board. Only he knows where it is, and he's not aware yet that I've set my sights on his ship's treasure... Take a guess: what would someone who dreams of his treasure day and night do when he returns to the ship he's been separated from for so long?"

"You mean, he'll board the ship to carefully check if his treasure is missing?"

"Yeah, according to my deduction, there's very likely a concealment magic or a hidden compartment on the ship that requires a password only he knows. If it's concealment magic, even I wouldn't be able to crack it, so letting him board the ship won't cost us anything. Wait, are you scared and don't dare to go get the key?"

"...How is that possible! I am the great Sir Book Artifact; what huge storms have I not experienced?! Just leave a minor matter like grabbing a key to me!"

Seeing Emhart's flustered and exasperated effort to prove himself, Fisher sped up his actions of entangling the small boats with the Weaver, and soon, all the small boats were tied with threads.

Subsequently, Fisher arrived by his own small boat, grabbed the new walking stick he had just bought on the island, and walked toward the gang's territory.

Speaking of which, combining the ones from the Southern Continent until now, he had already broken two walking sticks. Ever since acquiring the Demi-Human Completion Handbook and running around the world, these things had almost become consumables. Suitable walking sticks were always expensive, but a qualified gentleman from Nazareth couldn't do without one. It would be great if the Fluid Sword could be a bit more versatile and turn into a walking stick that didn't cut one's hands.

Fisher expertly twirled the walking stick gracefully and plopped a pure black gentleman's hat onto his head. The brim wasn't very long, leaving just enough space for Emhart to stand on his shoulder.

"I'll tie the Weaver to you and keep a close eye on your movements. Once you find the key, just sneak out."

"...You have to watch me. If I get caught, you absolutely have to come save me. You can't be ungrateful!"

"Mhm, hurry up and go."

Fisher wrapped the Weaver around Emhart's body, and put the magic ring the Cardinal had previously given him on his other hand just in case of an accident. If worse came to worst, he could only bombard this place with high-circle magic.

Emhart tremblingly twisted his body and floated toward the gang's camp. His square, book-like body actually looked incredibly agile at this moment as he quickly flew toward the gang's accounting room.

Fisher didn't wait near the entrance for him. Instead, he walked back along the way, leading Emhart like a kite, leaving only the increasingly longer Weaver thread to connect them.

By the time Fisher left the gang camp and got back to his small boat, the ragged Jesse was already wrapping his thin arms around himself, waiting for Fisher not far away. When he saw Fisher dressed up looking like he was attending a banquet, he couldn't help but raise his eyebrows. He looked around before running up to him.

"Weren't you going to steal the key? Why are you still standing around here?"

"My little brother has already gone. We just need to wait here."

Jesse raised his eyebrows, looking at Fisher's completely empty shoulder, utterly failing to comprehend the love-hate relationship between him and that book. Seeing Fisher calmly sitting in the small boat, Jesse remained firmly planted on the shore; he swore that if something went wrong over there, he would immediately sprint away.

Fisher ignored him, his fingers lightly tapping against the thread connecting to Emhart. His other finger, wearing the ring, was also simultaneously pressed against the thread.

Circle three modern magic, [Warning Transmission].

"Buzz buzz buzz~"

The light on the ring grew brighter and brighter, and a milky-white halo, invisible to the naked eye, bloomed instantly and transmitted along the Weaver. Following the spreading light, the situation on Emhart's end also displayed before Fisher's eyes.

First, he saw Emhart staring intently at a young girl sleeping in a bed, looking as if he had seen a treasure he couldn't peel his eyes away from.

"?"

Fisher raised an eyebrow. Had Emhart changed his nature and started paying attention to human ladies, or was he being positively influenced by Fisher's subtle influence?

Before he could pull the thread wrapped around Emhart to remind him to focus on stealing the key, Fisher caught sight out of the corner of his eye of a quaint Kadian book clutched in the sleeping girl's arms. It seemed to be a version of the [Scripture of Creation]—and one that Emhart hadn't seen before.

The Scripture of Creation had many versions, and what each country officially recognized was quite different, especially in those small nations on the eastern shores of the West Continent. The versions from each sovereign state were entirely different, with some even ridiculously featuring plots where the Mother Goddess choked her own children to death, vastly deviating from the original version.

Nazareth used the orthodox version consistent with Kadu, and it was the same one Fisher had studied, but that didn't prevent many other versions from circulating in history and the present.

Emhart shot a torn glance at the book in the girl's arms. Then, he actually resolutely twisted his body, turned around, and floated toward the accounting room directly opposite her room, muttering softly to himself as he went.

"Can't see it, can't see it, can't see it..."

He hypnotized himself as he floated into the still-lit accounting room. Inside, a man holding a musket was dozing off. Emhart cautiously eyed the musket in the man's arms before quietly examining the decorations within.

There were currencies from various countries, the bills and income ledgers for the month, beauty magazines published in Nazareth, and hung on the wall was a rusted, old-fashioned iron key!

The moment Emhart's gaze fell upon that key, Fisher immediately tugged at the thread attached to him, signaling him to bite the key and bring it out.

Emhart pursed his lips and brought his square face close to the key. He opened his mouth, bit down on the tip of the key, and slowly lifted it off the hook on the wall.

Success!

But before Emhart could praise himself inwardly for being so capable, he abruptly turned his head and suddenly saw a pitch-black gun barrel aimed at his large face. The person holding the musket was the gang member who had just been dozing off, now looking in sheer amazement at this floating book.

"What the hell are you, and why are you so ugly?"

"Your mom..."

Emhart, still biting the key, was just about to spit out a flurry of profanities when Fisher, sitting in the distant small boat, suddenly stood up. With a fierce yank of his right hand toward the empty space, Emhart instantly felt a tremendous force pulling him from behind. He intuitively clamped down on the key in his mouth to prevent it from falling.

The surrounding scenes rapidly reversed, moving faster than the night wind and moonlight could follow, until the very next second, he heavily landed in Fisher's hand.

"Urgh! Fuck, Fisher! Why didn't you tell me in advance that you had this trick up your sleeve?!"

Sir Book Artifact's eyes spun in dizzy circles while in Fisher's hand. After waiting a second or two, he forcefully suppressed his nausea, spat out the key from his mouth, and was about to start arguing with Fisher. But Fisher completely ignored him. He tipped the brim of his gentleman's hat, looked at the gradually noisy gang territory in the distance, and handed the key to Jesse.

"Captain Jesse, this is the key to the Flying Fish. Don't worry, their boats have already been tampered with by me. We can set off right now..."

Jesse's eyelids inevitably twitched. He glanced at the elegant Fisher, then stared intently at the key he had been dreaming about in Fisher's hand. Cursing under his breath, he jumped onto the boat and took the traditional steam engine key.

"Madman... You're an absolute madman."

Jesse took the key from Fisher's hand, flames of greed sparking instantaneously in his eyes. Before Fisher could say anything, he had already grabbed the wooden paddle set at the stern of the small boat and started rowing rapidly.

Having waited for so long, he could finally return to the Flying Fish; even if it meant death, he had to die on the Flying Fish!

Fisher leaned on his walking stick in front of him, and lightly flicked his left fingers again, completely breaking the mechanical parts on the docked gang boats on the shore. Only after doing all this did he safely retract the transparent threads in his hands and turn to look at the wooden ship parked in the middle of the sea behind him—the Flying Fish.

Compared to newly built wooden steamships of the same era, the entire Flying Fish was a full size smaller. In the early days, steam engines universally faced severe horsepower deficiencies, so reducing a ship's volume became the best way to increase its mobility.

In those bygone eras, there weren't pirates terrorizing the seas like there were today, so naturally, there was no need to equip heavy artillery. This further reduced the Flying Fish's weight, transforming it into a high-speed ship that soared like a flying fish across the seas of that era.

Even in today's era of highly refined steam engines and advanced navigation, its cruising speed still wasn't in the slowest bracket.

"Quickly, quickly! We need to hurry on board and haul up the anchor, otherwise we'll be riddled with holes by the pirates on the island using their cannons... You go quickly. The mechanical device is right on the deck. One person can operate it; there should be instructions. I'll go start the ship. They probably haven't hauled off the coal on board."

Right after boarding, Fisher hadn't even tossed his food and luggage from the small boat upward before Jesse urgently looked down at the boisterous shore and commanded Fisher.

Fisher nodded. As he saw Jesse go ahead toward the captain's cabin holding the key, he shot a glance at Emhart on his shoulder, signaling him to follow. Once Emhart followed, Fisher nodded to Jesse in agreement.

"No problem."

Fisher walked toward a mechanical gear located near the deck that resembled a horizontal dial. The rusty iron chain extending from the dial straight down below the sea's surface belonged to the Flying Fish's anchor.

Setting his walking stick aside, Fisher gripped the handles of the steel dial with both hands. With a forceful pull, the long-disused machine emitted a screeching noise, much like the sharp cracking of bones in someone who hadn't exercised in ages.

As the anchor, silent on the seabed, inch-by-inch shifted toward the surface, the sound of the chains grating against the hull was like a kind of alarm waking the slumbering ship. Simultaneously, Jesse seemed to have ignited the ship's engine. After the whole ship shuddered heavily a few times, the flickering light from the ship suddenly lit up brightly, illuminating the pitch-black deck.

So the ship even had a light magic connected to the steam engine. In that era, only deep-pocketed organizations like the Nazarene Development Company could afford to outfit ships with magic of this caliber.

This truly was a ship from the pioneering company.

As the lights flared back to life, the massive symbol of the Nazarene Development Company on the deck crashed into Fisher's view. Back in those days, it was exactly this kind of ship bearing the emblem of the Nazarene Development Company that bridged the gap between the West Continent and the Southern Continent, constantly transporting everything from across the sea back to the West Continent.

"It worked! It worked! The Flying Fish can still move! We'll be leaving the Patroshen Islands immediately! Hahahahaha!"

Jesse's ecstatic cheers came from the captain's cabin, and in response, the whole ship began accelerating forward. The gang on the shore evidently had just noticed the Flying Fish moving out to sea, but it was far too late for them to give chase now.

The ragged Jesse stood in the doorway of the captain's cabin, looking gleefully at the gang cursing on their boats but unable to start their engines, a boundless flow of satisfaction welling up in his heart.

"Haha, now that they can't catch up, they won't get another chance. It's too late right now, and the other gangs on the island won't help them chase down a decades-old relic. We've succeeded, Mr. Fisher!"

Fisher leaned against the railing, watching the Patroshen Islands slowly receding in his vision. Turning back, he shot Jesse a smile.

"Yeah, just make sure you fulfill your promise."

"Promise? Oh... right, the promise! Wait here, I'll go look for the navigation charts. I guarantee I'll get you to the Northern Border!"

Jesse slapped his forehead, then turned back into the captain's cabin to search for who knows what. Meanwhile, on the deck, Fisher took off the gentleman's hat from his head and placed it over his chest. The moonlight illuminated his expressionless face perfectly, making the layout of the deck in front of him unmistakably clear.

Lying right before his eyes on the wooden flooring near the deck compartments, the large swaths of dried blood were remarkably conspicuous.