Chapter 445 - The Diary of the Death Mage

Richard confirmed that the knowledge contained within the Sewing Monster was helpful to his research, so he began to accelerate the organization and analysis of the materials left by the Death Mage, attempting to master the other party’s research sooner.But as days passed by, the more he organized and analyzed, the clearer some patterns became, Richard realized something was increasingly amiss.

The most troubling part was that among the materials left by the Death Mage, there was only research on shallow applications of the Sewing Monster, with absolutely no study of the core knowledge.

For example, the Temperature Difference Colloidal Material within the body of the Sewing Monster has a very high technological content. Even if introduced to modern Earth, it has the potential to revolutionize the energy industry, and in a Medieval Wizard World like this, once mastered, not delving deeper into its value would be an injustice to everyone.

Thus, a normal researcher would definitely improve upon the Temperature Difference Colloidal Material non-stop, study its mechanics, research how to enhance the efficiency of energy conversion, and study how to reduce costs for mass production, and so on.

However, in the materials left by the Death Mage, there was no record of any such research. The only things recorded were how to make the Sewing Monster integrate these colloids better, or how much quantity of the colloids was appropriate.

This gave Richard the impression that there was a gap in the Death Mage’s research, as if the Death Mage believed that there was no need to study core knowledge and that shallow applications were enough.

In such a case, one explanation could be: the Death Mage was unimaginably intelligent and had fully seen through all the possible research directions of the Temperature Difference Colloidal Material, firmly believing that he had reached the limit of his grasp on core knowledge and could not advance any further, thus continuing his research would only be a waste of time. Therefore, he only needed to focus on the application aspect and had sealed away everything related to core knowledge research.

Could this be possible?

If there was only one research like this, Richard would have believed it, but with many aspects such as the Sewing Monster’s heart enhancement mechanics, shell strengthening material, and others all being the same, Richard couldn’t help but harbor doubts.

Richard highly doubted that the Death Mage was incomparably intelligent; it was possible the opposite was true—that he possessed only ordinary wisdom, was unable to research core knowledge, and could only conduct some shallow applications. Hence, he could only create a Sewing Monster, a creature with extremely low cost-effectiveness, otherwise, using the numerous pieces of knowledge from the Sewing Monster, it would completely be possible to create creatures hundreds, if not thousands, of times more terrifying than the Sewing Monster.

If that were truly the case, then a question arose.

If the Death Mage lacked the ability to research core knowledge, then how did he ascertain and master this core knowledge? How did he know the heart could be enhanced in such a way, the exterior modified, and the Temperature Difference Colloidal Material synthesized like that?

It couldn’t possibly be a sudden epiphany, where such knowledge just appeared in his mind, could it?

Or maybe, like Richard, the Death Mage was born with the soul of another world within his body?

With these thoughts, Richard continued to organize and analyze the materials left by the Death Mage, patiently deciphering even the most hastily scribbled characters on the crude papyrus.

After expending an unknown amount of energy, Richard had forgotten how many days he had been on the island, but eventually, he had thoroughly organized and analyzed the Death Mage’s materials.

However, once he had finished, his puzzlement was not resolved—the Death Mage’s documentation offered no explanation for his unusual research approach.

Just as Richard could no longer bear it and was thinking of tearing down the Stone Building, he discovered a secret compartment in a room on the second floor where the Death Mage lived and found many scrolls that looked like diaries.

The scrolls seemed very old, yellowing and brittle. Richard carefully unrolled one and, as his gaze landed on it, he saw the unique, sloppy handwriting of the Death Mage, and as he read on, Richard’s expression began to change:

"Tonight is the Full Moon. If I remember correctly, it was also a Full Moon when the storm tore apart the ship, and I desperately swam to this small island. That means a whole month has passed.

In this past month, there’s not much to say, just struggling to stay alive. Fortunately, the shipwreck was pushed onto the beach by the wind, allowing me to find lots of food and useful items. Of course, there were also some useless things, such as a box of scrolls, ink, and a quill that I found in a corner, which I am currently using.

Aside from passing time, what’s the use of burning the midnight oil, writing down my pathetic experiences on Papyrus Scrolls with a quill in the dead of night?"

Hmm... there is no one on this island, and no ship has passed by in a month. It is very likely that I am going to die here, trapped. By writing down this experience, maybe those who come to this island someday, whenever that may be, will know that I once existed. Perhaps!"

Richard’s eyes twinkled as he read this, and he couldn’t help but think: The experiences described in the Death Mage’s journal are a bit like that of a novel from Earth—Robinson Crusoe.

Continue reading.

"If what I’m writing really can prove that I existed, then I should introduce myself first.

I am a merchant. As a child, I was the son of a merchant. Since I can remember, I’ve been helping my father with his business, sometimes traveling far to trade goods. By the time I reached adulthood, I had seen much of the world, learned how to keep accounts, and could speak three different languages.

I felt I was stronger than most nobles, fully capable of running a shop on my own. But my father didn’t think so; he always treated me like a child, or more pitifully—as a clerk who didn’t need a salary. He kept me firmly by his side, denied me freedom and nearly suffocated me.

After several years of this, I’d had enough. So, one night, I left home, taking a modest amount of capital with me and cautiously joined a merchant ship for trade. The results were very good, the Goddess of Fortune favored me, and I made quite a bit of money from trading goods on my first three voyages.

But it wasn’t enough. I was determined to make a fortune that would surpass my father’s, to prove that I was completely better than him—then I could return home. Hence, I embarked on my fourth trade voyage.

This fourth voyage was fated to be tragic. The ship encountered a great storm; masts broke, the deck shattered, the vessel was blown askew, and everyone on board was lost at sea, except for me. I genuinely mourned the dead, but for myself, too—if I had died with them, perhaps I wouldn’t have to be so lonely."

At this point in the reading, Richard’s expression grew increasingly peculiar; he found the Death Mage’s story more and more reminiscent of the protagonist in Robinson Crusoe. Could it be that the Death Mage’s name was also Robinson?

His eyes returned to the Papyrus Scroll.

"Enough digression, let’s get back to introducing myself. Whoever comes after me, please remember my name—I am called—Defoe. Yes, Defoe. Because I made a lot of money from selling hot-selling goods on my first three voyages, the people on the ship liked to call me ’Lucky Defoe.’ But I think, given my current situation, ’Unlucky Defoe’ would be more appropriate."

Richard: "...."

Okay, no coincidence— the Death Mage’s name isn’t Robinson. But if I remember correctly, the name ’Defoe’ belongs to the author of Robinson Crusoe—Daniel Defoe.

So... a general coincidence?

Richard’s expression was slightly bemused as he continued to read, quickly scanning through the journal. He found that most of the following entries were the Death Mage’s idle thoughts, not very valuable, but a few short entries caught his attention.

"Eight days have passed since the Full Moon. The weather is turning cold, but I’ve been lucky not to fall ill. Regardless, I must find somewhere to live. I can’t build a house, and it would take too long. Perhaps I should look for a cave."

"The ninth day after the Full Moon. I’ve searched for a cave on the island all day with no luck. But in the middle of the island, I found a deep pit, not knowing what lies within. If there aren’t any wild beasts, I might try living there. It’s too dark, though—I need to make some torches for light to explore."

"The tenth day after the Full Moon. The torches are ready. I’ve explored the pit, and there are no beasts. It really is livable, but there’s an odd feeling about it."

"The eleventh day after the Full Moon. My God! Buried in the mud of the deep pit is a downward entrance, hiding what? Could it be treasure? Hmm, I’m going to be rich! But... the iron lid at the entrance is hard to open. I need to think of something."

"The twelfth day after the Full Moon. Daytime. I found the right tools to open the iron lid. I’m going to open it now and see what’s below, hoping it’s not dangerous. If I can come out alive, I will continue to write about my experiences.

If I can’t come out... then that’s it. After all, life on this island is dreadfully boring. If I die, I die... Whoever comes after me, will you see these words I’ve written..."