I loaded the Mysticism panel.

He spent the rest of the afternoon reading those runes.

[博闻] pulled up all the Rune glyph comparison databases he had read over the past six months, and [思辨] helped him piece them together bit by bit.

By the third section, Richard's back was slowly straightening.

These annotations are not just random additions; they form a complete system when put together.

The person who wrote the annotations hid a whole set of old rules about Wild Hunt, section by section, in this most inconspicuous seal maintenance file.

The first sentence of the annotation is an old Scandinavian saying:

That group didn't travel the paths of the human world; they traveled through the crack between the two realms.

The seams are tightly closed on ordinary nights, only opening slightly on a few specific nights.

"If the wind rises from the northwest and turns to the southeast, then the door will be in the southeast."

"First the cries of wild geese are heard, then the bugle calls are heard."

If the bugle call out louder than the wild geese's cries, it's a passing through; if the bugle call out louder than them, it's just passing by.

Richard, upon reading this, recalled that night of mourning.

He had heard everything written in the annotations that night.

The second paragraph is the longest, and the word "rune" appears repeatedly in the annotations.

Richard struggled for a long time to come up with it. The Scandinavian spelling is skuld, which means "to be repaid" and is also the name of the youngest of the three Fates.

The annotation says that those northerners call it ?rl?g, which literally means "already laid out".

Fate can be sought and changed, but destiny cannot.

"The hunter leader may seem lawless with this team, but the rules bind it more than anyone else."

Richard spelled out each syllable one by one.

"Since it must keep its debts, why is it always a person who owes the debt?"

When Richard saw these words, the small spark in his heart was instantly ignited into a raging fire.

Next, the annotations divided those who followed the Wild Hunt into two categories.

One type is those who are tied down by debt.

They were burdened with unpaid debts, their names hooked onto the hunting book, and they were powerless to resist following that group into the eternal night.

Such people are pure slaves; they have no say in their own lives, deaths, or fates.

Another type is candidates who join by presenting a token.

The annotation here uses the word "guest".

"Guests are not slaves," Rune wrote.

"The slave is bound by debt, while the guest comes by tokens of trust."

With the token in hand, the hunter will protect you as he would a guest at his own hearth, and harming you will incur unbearable consequences.

Richard touched the tip of the antler wrapped with the reins in his arms, feeling reassured.

The annotation further states that each time that endless procession crossed the border, it carried with it hunted evil creatures, lost souls, and all sorts of objects that were swept up from the rift between the two realms.

These items were distributed among the hunters according to their respective merits during the hunt.

Those who kill the most, pursue the furthest, and hold the line receive the most rewards.

The largest share reportedly went to the scouts, who served as the Wild Hunt's guides.

"Guests can also be divided."

"Guests who followed the hunters and achieved merit were also recorded in the register."

If you contributed to the hunt, you will get a share of the spoils that night.

It won't give it to you unless you ask for it.

In the North, the rule is that you have to make it clear to them that they must give it to you before they will.

Richard closed the book.

It's no coincidence that these rules were laid out here for him to look through.

The professor probably noticed something amiss these days and deliberately gave him a document.

He has figured out Professor Mortimer's teaching methods thoroughly in the past six months.

Mr. Hutton and the old professor are indeed of the same ilk; they both quietly leave the door open for you to see and read on your own.

Once you understand it, it's yours to keep.

If you can't understand it, then just consider it as spending an afternoon copying the seal maintenance files.

Richard gently placed the book on the corner of the table and went back to his work.

"Finished copying?" Mortimer's voice drifted over from the other side.

"Finished copying."

"What did you write down?"

Richard handed over the catalog.

Mortimer took it and glanced at it; he didn't mention a single word about the blank annotation column.

"Okay." The old professor tossed the booklet back. "Come again tomorrow."

Richard stood up and screwed the cap back on the ink bottle.

He paused suddenly as he reached the door.

"Professor, are all the bookmarks in this stack of books missing?"

Mortimer laughed and said, "That depends on whether you can find it or not."

For the next few days, Richard went to the third floor of the Petrie Building every afternoon.

He was nominally copying books, but in reality, he was copying them slower and slower.

Among that stack of luxurious hardcover books, more than one contained something.

The second book is a cryptic text wrapped in parchment, which describes in great detail how to achieve merit in the Wild Hunt.

One of the most important spoils mentioned was called a hamingja.

Richard lingered on this word for a long time.

hamingja, in Scandinavian terms, means "luck that comes with you".

The annotation says that this is something that can be accumulated by someone, taken away by someone, and transferred from one person to another.

You have rendered meritorious service in the hunt, and the hunter's first share of your spoils will be luck.

The more luck you accumulate, the more likely you are to return alive from the next hunt.

Then keep taking, keep snowballing!

"The hunter takes the prey's fate, and the prey's last bite before death is also a kind of fate."

Whoever catches it gets a point.

The black dog has locked onto a specific target; it seems it's after that bit of "luck".

Therefore, the Wild Hunt teams never need to strike first; they will only arrive at the last moment of their prey as promised.

The third book discusses the unique leeway that alternate members have as "guests".

How to manipulate the situation to tip the scales in your favor;

How to get more benefits from the hunt before the hunters do.

Initiative, benefits, spoils.

These three items are like three puzzle pieces, which perfectly filled in the gaps in Richard's understanding.

Others who follow the wild hunt are risking their lives for a gamble on luck.

He is different.

No matter how you look at it, he's the one who profits.

Richard turned to the page with Rune's annotations.

That rhetorical question still lingers quietly on the edge of the page.

"Since it must keep its debts, why is it always a person who owes the debt?"

Richard looked at the sentence and mentally added half of it.

The party in debt is always human, because humans always see themselves as the prey.

Richard.

Mortimer's voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

The cloudiness in those half-open, half-closed eyes had faded somewhat.

"You're copying that book way too slowly."

The old professor snorted through his nose.

"You can only copy one stack of those sealed files in half a day."

You've been copying this thin, tattered book for so long, and haven't added a single word to the catalogue.

Richard did not respond.

Mortimer placed his teacup on the edge of the table and slowly stood up.

"Which paragraph are you reading?"

"...the part about the guest and the host." Richard did not hide anything.

"Did you understand?"

"I understand half of it."

The old professor said slowly.

"The author of this book is a coward who came back alive from the Wild Hunt."

Richard raised his head.

"Hunters join the Wild Hunt risk their lives. If they win, they gain glory; if they lose, they are reduced to ashes. They despise such underhanded and cunning methods."

Mortimer placed the cup on the edge of the table.

"But this coward survived, and even survived long enough to write down these rules one by one."

"Those hunters who risked their lives left not a single word behind."

Richard did not respond.

"Who do you think is smarter?" Mortimer asked.

"...the one who survived."

"Yes." The old professor put his feet back on.

"But remember, this coward survived because he always held onto something that others didn't."

"What he was clutching isn't written in the book," Mortimer said in a calm tone.

"He left this clause blank."

Richard looked down at that page.

Sure enough, the person writing the annotations stopped writing, and that was the end of it.

"That thing is his own lifeline."

"Everyone who wants to take the lead in Wild Hunt has something different in their hands."

"You'll have to find it yourself."

Richard closed the book and gently placed it among the stack of already copied copies on the corner of the table.

He didn't say that he had found it.

Next, we just wait for a specific night.

On Eid al-Adha, Lent, Halloween... when that endless procession passed by.

………………

When Loki awoke, there were layers upon layers of frost on the ground, as if someone had piled up hundreds of winters here, unwilling to let a single one melt.

He tried to sit up, but his arms were too weak.

Looking down, I saw his right arm resting on the frosty ground three steps away, his five fingers still clenched into a fist.

Loki stared at the severed hand, a tickle rising in his throat, a slight urge to laugh creeping in.

He didn't actually laugh out loud.

As soon as I open my mouth, cold air rushes into my lungs through my throat.

As long as he can still open his mouth, he hasn't lost yet, Loki thought to himself.

I can lose anything in my life, but I can't lose this tongue.

Tyr was bound and pressed face down on the frosty ground.

An invisible knife was slicing down his spine on both sides.

Where the knife passed, the ribs were pried open and turned outwards, becoming two open ribs facing the sky.

This form of punishment is called the Blood Eagle, and northerners offer it to the most ferocious god.

They split open a living person's back, broke the ribs into wings, and made that person lie on the ground, becoming a bird that could never fly again.

Tyr dug his single hand into the frost, swallowing the pain.

The ribs were completely turned over, and white mist rose up, closing the two blood-red wings back onto the spine.

Attach it, then cut it open.

Loki looked over, and the slight urge to laugh in his throat had long since disappeared.

Tyr remained silent throughout; that last bit of dignity was all he had left.

Freya was hung up.

An invisible rope was looped around her neck and lifted upwards.

This is a gift for the one-eyed god.

When performing a sacrifice, a live sacrifice is hung on a tree and left to dangle until the person dies. Northerners call this "feeding crows."

Freya couldn't stop breathing.

When the rope reaches her most painful moment, it will loosen and then be pulled up again.

On Hella's side, they also suffer from the ancient Scandinavian punishments.

Just then, a bugle call sounded in the distance.

The horn sounded languid, a tune of self-satisfaction.

Loki looked up at the sound.

The seemingly endless procession halted directly overhead, tens of thousands of horses pawing the ground.

The purpose of imposing punishment is to establish rules, but this does not mean that the hunter is in a bad mood.

Actually, quite the opposite is true; the hunter has been in a very good mood lately.