"Don't sweat it. I don't have any vengeful enemies on my tail, nor do I possess the kind of wealth that could set you up for life," Joseph said, his golden eyes twinkling with amusement as he looked at Sherlock.
Feeling like he'd been seen right through, Sherlock awkwardly smiled and thought, "Can this guy read minds or something?"
But glancing at the man's chest, ravaged by a horrifying injury, and his obvious frailty, Sherlock couldn't help but say, "I've lost my magic source and I'm no longer a mage, but there's still an intermediate-level healing mage in my clinic. Maybe she could try to treat your injuries."
He knew Vivian was hiding behind the stairs, and he figured Joseph was aware of it, too.
As a doctor, even a veterinarian, it was sheer torture to watch a severely injured patient die without doing anything.
"Even though you've fallen into the Abyss, you still have a compassionate heart, which reminds me of Lin," Joseph said with a smile, shaking his head. "But my injuries are too severe for a young girl to handle. Even the Archmage would be powerless."
Sherlock looked at Joseph, whose face was deathly pale from blood loss. His lips had turned a dark purple-black, and the toxins in his body were eating away at his life force. Yet, his expression remained calm and serene.
He had never seen anyone face death so calmly.
What was an Archmage? It was the pinnacle of the mage profession!
Even the Dean of the Calva Medical Academy was only at the level of an Archmage.
Sherlock trusted Joseph's judgment and didn't insist on having Vivian treat him.
"Did you come specifically to find me?" Sherlock asked, wanting to know the man's purpose.
"Yeah. When your parents left the city to fight the wave of monsters, they left me a letter, asking me to look after you if anything happened to them," Joseph nodded slightly.
"Then why did you only show up now?! Where were you when I was imprisoned? Where were you when I was humiliated and abandoned? Where were you when I lost my magic source and became useless?" If it were the old Sherlock, he would have burst out with a hysterical barrage of questions.
But the current Sherlock was much calmer and simply said, "Clearly, you didn't fulfill that promise. Of course, you were probably just too busy. I don't blame you."
His tone carried the bitterness of being deeply hurt.
Sherlock's calmness deepened Joseph's guilt, and he apologized, "These past years, I've been tied up with some important matters. I thought that with Nolan and Lin's contributions to Calva, those people would take care of you. I didn't expect them to treat you like that."
"So, are you here today to apologize to me?"
"Yeah, and I also plan to give you an opportunity."
"Opportunity?" Sherlock didn't show too much excitement. Instead, he became somewhat cautious.
Phrases like "Do you want to change your way of life?" or "Young man, do you want to change your fate?" often turned out to be huge pitfalls.
Sherlock just wanted to work hard, make money, and live a good life.
Joseph took out a black stone from his pocket and handed it to Sherlock.
"What's this?" Sherlock hesitated for a moment before reaching out to take the stone.
It was a long, rectangular stone with a smooth, mirror-like surface on the front. The back was also smooth but carved with a complex array of dark golden lines beneath the surface, forming an intricate rune pattern based on a hexagram, accompanied by symmetrical and intricate symbols. It looked impressive and aesthetic.
The moment Sherlock held it, it felt like he was holding a cell phone.
Regardless of its size, thickness, weight, or grip, it was perfect.
And... it even had a true full-screen display.
But Sherlock was certain that the Isor Continent hadn't seen such a groundbreaking product as a cellphone yet, not even the invention of steam engines.
Suddenly, the stone in his hand vibrated slightly.
The pure black mirror surface suddenly lit up, and lines of text appeared.
Technician: [What happened to the Adjudicator? Why did he suddenly disappear?]
Merchant: [Damn it, I hope he's not dead! He still owes me two thousand gold coins!]
Gatekeeper: [He mentioned yesterday that he found a monster nest. Could something unexpected have happened?]
Light Chaser: [Does the Hermit know the specific situation? You usually have more contact with the Adjudicator. @Hermit.]
...
Sherlock: ...
What the hell, is this a chat group?!
If he hadn't already accepted the fact that he had crossed over, he would have thought he was peeking at a game group chat.
"But this is a magical world where magic runs rampant and dragons soar!"
Looking at the chat group called "Red Moon" and the constantly scrolling chat records, Sherlock felt bewildered.
Joseph seemed satisfied with Sherlock's expression and explained with a smile, "Maybe it's hard for you to understand what this is. Simply put, it's a real-time communication tool called the 'Black Stone.'"
"I get what it is, but I don't get why it's here," Sherlock said, holding the 'Black Stone' in his hand and looking puzzled. "What's it used for? And who are they?"
"Well, let's start with an organization called 'Red Moon.' A thousand years ago, nine meteorites fell from the sky and landed in various parts of the Isor Continent. That's when the Red Moon appeared.
During the consecutive nights of the Red Moon, which lasted for three years, magical phenomena began to occur all over the Isor Continent.
Humans, beasts, orcs, and even dragons exhibited unexplained madness, with a typical sign being their eyes turning red, losing their sanity, and becoming frenzied killers.
Like a spreading disease, the phenomenon of magical corruption spread throughout the continent, eventually catching the attention of the various races.
To resist the tide of magical corruption, the races ended their wars and built cities with towering walls and enchantments to isolate themselves from the corrupted creatures.
Calva was established against this backdrop." Joseph spoke calmly.
Sherlock listened attentively. He was familiar with the ancient history that Joseph mentioned, having grown up in Calva. However, he couldn't grasp the connection between this 'Black Stone' phone and the historical events.
"You probably already know the above information, so let's talk about something you don't know," Joseph continued. "After three years, the frequency of the Red Moon nights started to decrease. It went from occurring every three days to every five days and finally settled at once every seven days, which continues to this day.
During the nights of the Red Moon, the corrupted creatures become exceptionally active and agitated.
Guided by some mysterious force, every few Red Moon nights, there's a phenomenon of large-scale attacks by hordes of corrupted creatures on major cities. We call it the 'Magical Tide.'
In addition to building cities to defend against the Magical Tide, the wise individuals of the races were not content with hiding within the cities. That's why, over nine hundred years ago, an organization called 'Red Moon' was founded.
The purpose of this organization is to unravel the mystery of the Red Moon, eliminate the corruption, and restart the world."
"Ah... this is so full of nonsense!" Sherlock was dumbfounded.
"From its inception, Red Moon has always consisted of nine members. Apart from the founder, the 'Night Watcher,' the other members don't need to disclose their identities to each other and communicate through codenames using the 'Black Stone,'" Joseph continued his explanation.
Isn't this just like choosing a username to chat in a group?
Are nine people chatting in a group to save the world?
He wouldn't have dared to think about such things when he was fifteen.
"So... are you the Adjudicator?" Sherlock tentatively asked, referring to the ridiculous codename.
"Yeah, I'm the Adjudicator," Joseph nodded and paused. "My main job is to explore the marked monster lairs and suspicious locations mentioned by the organization's members, trying to find the source of corruption. I've eradicated three monster lairs near the Abyss, but the last one had an unexpected outcome."
Sherlock's mouth hung open slightly, looking at Joseph with shock and awe.
According to his education, the existence of monster lairs belonged to the realm of legends. The textbooks didn't provide detailed information on this subject.
But in rumors, monster lairs contained not only an alarming number of monsters but also the presence of a monster lord, a terrifying entity feared even by great sorcerers.
And the man before him, his daily job was to explore and clear monster lairs.
The injuries he suffered were most likely related to removing monster lairs near the Abyss, probably involving the monster lord.
"What about those people in the group? What are they like?" Sherlock suddenly realized an important question. He might have stumbled upon an extraordinary, mysterious organization.
"The best judgment for mad monsters is to send them to meet the damn Red Moon," Joseph said with a laugh, seemingly explaining his codename.
"So, by giving me the 'Black Stone,' are you asking me to deliver it to someone?" Sherlock asked.
Currently, he had no power and couldn't even handle a corrupted rabbit in the wilderness, let alone venture into monster lairs. He couldn't inherit the mantle of the Adjudicator and wield a sword through monster lairs.
Considering Joseph's terrifying strength, the Red Moon organization, which always maintained a team of nine members, was not something a weakling like him could handle.
"No, I've chosen you as the successor of the ninth Black Stone. From today onwards, you're a member of Red Moon," Joseph fixed his gaze on Sherlock.
"Although we haven't met in these years, I've been keeping an eye on you. I'm glad to see that the former prodigy, stripped of magic, didn't let it destroy you. You still carry a compassionate heart and a positive attitude. That's why I chose you as my successor."
Sherlock didn't feel surprised. Calmly, he asked, "Are you sure you want to give such a precious position to a worthless person who doesn't dare to set foot in the wilderness?"
"Do you want to hide in the dark corner of the Abyss as a worthless person for your whole life?" Joseph countered.
Sherlock didn't answer; he just looked at Joseph.
He wasn't someone who would be easily fired up by a few words from others.
"Your cautious and prudent nature is just like Nolan!" Joseph chuckled, sighed, and said, "Choosing you is not only because of your character but also because of your parents."