Michael performed a short speech to everyone, thanking all of them for attending his party, before putting the spotlight on Rakna, who inwardly groaned at the definitive switch of attention to him.

Thankfully, Michael once again showed his sensible mind and prevented any nuisances by swiftly ending the speech with clapping and a toast. The aristocrat had immediately jumped to first place in Rakna’s list of approval. The man lived up to his name; a true angel.

Sometime later, everyone eventually found themselves boarding a rather stylized boat meant to cross the aquatic bridge. And it was during that time that a certain individual greeted Rakna.

“So, you’re the kid Baires was talking about?” A voice sounded behind him and his body froze out of pure survival instinct. Something which he quickly overpowered to look over his shoulder and take a look at the stranger.

There stood a woman much taller than himself. He wasn’t one to be intimidated by height, but he had to admit, she was almost a bit too overwhelming. She easily stood over two meters and while her silhouette was plenty feminine, and perhaps sensual considering her chest was being strained by nothing other than bandages to act as some sort of makeshift clothing, she was also extremely fit, going by her exposed abdomen littered with marks of battle and the definition in her limbs and upper torso.

She had spiky black hair just long enough to reach below her shoulders, dark red eyes, tanned skin only slightly lighter than Higure’s, and a pale three-claw scar running over her left eye. She wore a white trench coat over her arguably covered chest and otherwise just sported black pants.

Most importantly though, the woman had a wide grin on her face as she looked at him. ‘…now that is a worrying expression to see,’ the therian grumbled silently. ‘Reminds me of Higure… but unlike the horny cat, this one actually feels like a lion about to swallow me up.’

“Did you just think of something rude, devourer of mine?” Said horny cat suddenly interjected out of nowhere and he wisely ignored it in order to focus on the newcomer.

“When you say Baires…” Rakna started with a scowl and the woman cackled.

“Good-looking guy, a bit meek, board executive of my company,” she answered and extended her hand toward him. “That is to say, my lackey. Name’s Zialtra Lanfor. Boss of Trafford.”

The therian narrowed his eyes in recognition and slowly returned the handshake, from which he almost winced due to the strength she put in.

She smirked. “Second Ascent Strength doesn’t faze you. Nice going. How about Third?”

“…preferably, I would like to avoid losing my hand over a handshake,” Rakna retorted and pulled back, which she allowed with a laugh.

“Fair enough. You’ll need it for the showcase anyway. I’ll see what you’re made of then.”

“…so, you would have crippled my hand if I didn’t need it soon?” He deadpanned.

“Come on, ‘cripple’ is such a bad word to describe it,” she waved it off. “And well, the fox girl behind you doesn’t seem to appreciate the idea,” she snorted at a scowling Kaelith.

“What are you here for, Zialtra?” The vixen huffed. “Aren’t you busy hunting for some big game, as you always say?”

“Bah, chill out girl,” the tall woman rolled her eyes. “I’m just bored. Until yesterday, I was debating between going hunting some Wild Bosses or raiding the vampires or something. But then I heard about the ‘news’,” she stated with emphasis and looked at Rakna. “Got curious is all. I knew about you, kid, ever since you came to the System. Baires reported to me how you brought back corpses to my shop far above your level on your first day. Even a Hidden Boss.”

“I see.”

“You know, Baires was pretty sad that you didn’t visit the shop much afterward,” she added with a snicker. “He was expecting to see you bring big catches to us. Instead, you only came to buy some hearts… much of which was done through a third party.”

Rakna frowned lightly. “I don’t need the money and most of my… ‘biggest catches’ were madmen or creatures that I was forced to obliterate. Can’t really sell either.”

“Haha, true!”

“I’m going to fight a dragon for my Guild’s evaluation of me soon,” the therian said. “I guess I could bring that one. Depends on if I have to use a spell that will destroy its body entirely. Nevertheless, since I’m the one supposed to kill it, the Leader should let me have whatever is left of it.”

Zialtra blinked at that, and everyone else in earshot reacted pretty much the same way. “You say the wildest of things like it’s nothing,” the imposing woman chuckled. “But I like that, kid.”

“I see you’ve met Lanfor,” Kryas’ voice sounded as he approached from a distance, leaving a group of nobles he was conversing with. At that point, the boat had already begun to exit Athens and was gradually expanding the view of the city and Atlantis’ vast ocean.

“Ugh… here comes the lazy ass,” Zialtra grimaced.

“An extreme has no right to criticize another,” the Pavilion President retorted dryly. “I’m surprised you’re even here considering how over-spirited you are. Are you sure you can survive sitting down for just thirty minutes?” He asked with genuine curiosity. “You’re not going to kill some poor soul if you get too bored, right?”

“Oi, oi, what the hell kinda monster you think I am?”

A few steps away from them, Flavia leaned back and whispered to Kaelith. “Who is she?” She asked quietly.

The vixen huffed with her arms crossed. “Zialtra Lanfor. Also known as the Martial Saint. She also goes by The Executioner or the Hunting Queen in some circles. She’s the 6th Ranked Host.”

“Sixth…” Allan sweatdropped. “After the 3rd Top Host, we get another in the Top 10… am I the only one who thinks this should be a bit more, I don’t know, significant?”

Kara chuckled. “Oh my, did you not know?” She raised her voice mischievously and the blond gave her a confused look. The fox matriarch waved her hand in the direction of Merlina and Caer a few meters away; the couple enjoying the view together. “Merlina Llawen. The Knight of Spring. She is ranked 7th and the third strongest member of Throne of Glory.”

“…what kind of damn Guild did Rakna get into?” Allan couldn’t help but remark.

“I have heard of an amusing fact about Zialtra Lanfor now that I think about it,” Hans abruptly said as he looked up from his book, leaning against the railing of the boat. Everyone looked at him when he brought the topic back to the powerful woman.

“Allegedly, she never intended to create Trafford,” the author hummed. “The reason she is known as the Hunting Queen is her obsession with fighting. She never stops seeking prey. Rumors state she has lived for more than three hundred years now purely because she bathed in the lifeforce of so many powerful creatures.”

“But, point in case, a long time ago, she supposedly had killed so many beasts and monsters that the carcasses eventually managed to fill up a hundred Tier 1 Spatial Rings. She initially collected the bodies as trophies but got tired of it and just started leaving the corpses behind her.”

“An admirer of hers had the idea to set up a small firm in her name and collect her spoils. He would sell them and give her the majority of the revenues. She recognized the man’s efforts and just gave him her rings, letting him do whatever he wanted with them… a year later, the value of those rings was enough to skyrocket Trafford into a massive company, crushing all competitors.”

Hans paused and calmly lowered his glasses briefly to clean them. “The estimate is that there was more than a hundred billion Talys worth of material in those rings,” he uttered indifferently. “To this day, she is still single handedly responsible for providing most of the high-value subjects sold at Trafford.”

His listeners fell silent as he finished recounting the tale and Allan whined inaudibly. “Okay, now I’m just scared,” he mumbled under his breath.

In fact, Zialtra herself was now looking at Hans with an amused eye. “I haven’t heard someone tell that anecdote in a long while,” she chortled. “Are you a fan of mine?”

At her question, everyone collectively agreed that if Hans could have made a duller expression, he would have transcended in some way. “It was a funny story,” the spiteful author said indifferently and returned to his reading. “A rabid dog worshiped by rabbits’ sort of humor,” he added.

“Well, color me surprised,” the Queen of Hunting grinned. “Looks like I found something to get rid of my boredom for today after all,” she stated and Hans’ expression twitched, fearing what kind of annoyance this woman would subject him to.

“Eeeh?! You have Formulation Magic!?” An equally excited and shocked voice abruptly cut through the crowd, redirecting everyone’s interest toward a teenage-looking boy with pale skin and white unkempt hair. He wore round glasses and a white coat similar to a doctor's.

However, his most striking features… were his half-translucent legs as he floated around Ceresta as if she was a fascinating artifact of untold complexity and history.

The dollish girl merely tilted her head blankly and nodded at his question.

“This is the first time I’ve met one!” The boy replied heartily. “Ever since I heard of this magic, I’ve always wanted to see it! It’s just sad that the last wielder died before I was born…”

As everyone watched the floating teen spin around Ceresta and even somehow flip over her head with sparkles in his eyes, Kaelith was the one who reacted first by sighing.

“You brought this overactive kid here?” She asked pointedly at Kryas who shrugged.

“He was curious about him too,” the Pavilion President pointed at Rakna. “Why would I refuse? He has made enough contribution with his work to earn this much leisure.”

“And he is?” Evelyn inquired, sensing the boy’s body to be similar to her state as a Phantom.

“Owner of the Nirvana Skill, Cypher Dominion,” Kaelith crossed her arms. “Ciel Verd. He may look and act like that, but he’s been working for the Pavilion for hundreds of years now. He’s in charge of infrastructure maintenance at the Pavilion as well as the coding of its various services. I’m sure you all noticed, but he’s a Spirit; a Ghost to be precise. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“Hm, I’m surprised, Ghosts are rare,” Astraea commented.

Rakna tilted his head at her. “How so? I would have believed it to be common.”

“Well, yes and no. The truth of the matter is that spiritual beings have many classifications. Shades, Poltergeists, Specters, Apparitions, Wraiths, Phantoms, and Phantasms. Each of these is different to a varying degree. Only the uninformed use ‘ghost’ as a general appellation. Ghosts are the purest form of spiritual life forms. They cannot be touched normally, cannot possess, cannot be exorcized traditionally, cannot age mentally, cannot experience an imbalance of death energy…”

Astraea paused and observed Ciel for a short second. “Additionally, one becomes a Ghost by having extremely high acumen and an abundance of spiritual energy before death. It has nothing to do with resentments or regrets. No, in the first place, if you have any of those, you can’t become one at all. In a way, Ghosts are the most clear-minded beings in Existence. The Church would not even bat an eye at one despite it being an ‘undead’. They would treat them like Saints.”

“She’s right,” Kryas nodded sagely. “His innocence is so great I’ve been using him for centuries to negotiate contracts. Either guilt trips or baits with overwhelming naivety. He’s a great kid. Saves me a lot of trouble.”

“…” No one deigned to comment on that.

“Hey, can I see a World Formula?!” Ciel finally asked and Ceresta blinked.

“…if you’d like,” she replied calmly, bringing out her hand and manifesting an orb of silver mana above her palm. Within that orb, countless lines of equations and magic formations alike crossed one another and intertwined almost incomprehensibly.

Furthermore, everything seemed bent and compressed, with values sometimes interchanging as if the equations were never meant to be static. It was like mathematics, geometry, and magic had married and given birth to an abomination.

With just a glimpse, everyone in the vicinity grimaced as a small headache overcame them. Rakna was not spared even with Eye of Symphony. Truthfully, he was pretty sure his Eye would fry itself trying to decipher that orb. It was as if both machine and living lacked something fundamental to even be worthy of reading a World Formula.

It was like staring at an infinite wall of text too far from you to even make out any letter. Yet the sheer size would manage to implant into your consciousness the fatigue of reading it in its entirety without actually doing it.

Ciel, on the other hand, went through several kinds of expressions. “W-wha-what is this…?”

“The Formula of a pebble I found on the ground,” Ceresta replied matter-of-factly.

The Ghost questioned the literal meaning of his existence right then and there.