Unable to repay my student loans, I had no choice but to work part-time as a demon hunter.

Just as Gordon was about to go over, he bumped into someone.

Martin Hott.

An investigator from the Department of Extraterrestrial Affairs, he wore a black trench coat, his face gaunt and hard, like a walking investigation machine, still carrying a pistol and holding a notebook.

"Vic. I need more people." He got straight to the point.

Among the college students, the person who impressed him the most was still Gordon.

"Where to?"

"Old Fish Market. Last night, a dangerous-level alien demon and an unknown ability user appeared there, causing a massive drowning effect."

"Don't rush. I still have a presentation and five hundred spectators to watch the show." Gordon pointed to his exhibition area.

"It's not as important as fighting the Otherworldly Demons and the Secret Cult."

"Guess how many cultists have infiltrated today's meeting?"

"I don't know," Martin said bluntly.

The square was filled with students, teachers, professors, soldiers, journalists, hunters, and countless other people from all walks of life; it was impossible to tell them apart.

"You'll find out soon enough," Gordon said mysteriously.

"You found out?"

"without."

"Then how can you tell me? They're all very good at pretending." Martin said expressionlessly.

"Don't worry, I don't need to know who the cultists are. I'll take care of opening up things they can't refuse in front of them, and you'll just have to see who drools over them."

Martin took out his pocket watch.

"I can stay here for another twenty minutes."

"Deal made. You'll find that these are your most valuable twenty minutes of the day."

Gordon, Martin, and Vera entered the exhibition area.

The Spiritual Shaping of Living Beings by the Blackwater River, and a Historical Interpretation

This is Gordon and Charlotte's topic.

Charlotte wore a light blue dress and black patent leather shoes, and had a kind smile.

The Earl of Montfort stood among the onlookers, his expression solemn yet concerned.

The forty mice, each behaving differently, attracted the interest of onlookers, including the president of the Royal College of Natural Sciences, Hamilton, Professor Winslow, and other senior members of the academic committee.

At this moment, Charlotte was talking at length about how the Blackwater River molded rats.

Ellen and the doctor were also present. The doctor stepped forward and interrupted them.

"Miss Monford, how did you take your notes?"

  

"We'll keep all conditions as similar as possible, with the only variable being the concentration of Blackwater River spirit in the drinking water. The complete table is here; you can track any of them." Charlotte smiled and handed over the table.

"There were only forty samples."

"An experiment lasting over forty days is sufficient to show the trend." Charlotte opened a whiteboard. "Except for the control group, the other three groups all showed changes in the same direction, only at different rates, and the rate of change was closely linked to the Blackwater River spirituality in their diet."

"This rat's behavior is probably the result of training," the doctor said coldly, pointing to the rat straining backflips.

"I have its birth certificate. Six months ago, it was just an adorable animal with no abnormalities, only capable of eating. If you insist that this is the result of artificial training, please tell me what training method was used, and we would be happy to include it in the control group," Charlotte said impeccably.

The rat began to do Thomas flares. The doctor thought this was something no human could train, and involuntarily stepped back.

The Earl of Montfort stood in the crowd and nodded almost imperceptibly.

He had only wanted to see his daughter participate in an interesting academic project, but she performed exceptionally well and was not intimidated by so many people.

Is this... growing up? The count felt a sense of relief.

As they listened, the reporters couldn't help but ask questions.

"Will the Blackwater River turn us into mutated monsters?"

"You can't infer the same thing from lab rats, but I don't deny the possibility," Charlotte nodded.

Charlotte's answer sparked a murmur among the crowd. They instinctively thought about their own bathtubs, faucets, and the water they used to make tea.

Gordon nodded secretly; this was exactly what he wanted to achieve today.

The mystery of the Blackwater River has been brought to the forefront.

Once more people had gathered around, Gordon led Martin around to the back of the tent.

"What are you going to do?" Martin pondered.

"Watch closely," Gordon instructed, "observe the people who will be mobilized by this thing next."

He then walked over to Charlotte and had a servant bring over a water tank.

Gordon opened the sealing wax and dripped a tiny drop of amniotic fluid from the warm bed into the water tank.

The next moment, all the mice looked up.

The first-phase control group showed no reaction, simply avoiding their crazed companions. The second-phase group banged on the railing, the third-phase group emitted sharp cries, and the fourth-phase group was already poised to leap into the water.

Gordon opened the cages for the third and fourth generations, and they jumped frantically toward the water tank.

The second-generation mice can't swim yet, so for their own safety, they can only cling to the railings and peer out.

Thump, thump...!

White figures fell into the water one after another, and the crowd of onlookers erupted in screams!

The reporters in the front row hurriedly retreated, then collectively craned their necks, unable to resist peeking at this spectacle!

The mice struggled frantically in the water, swimming around the single drop of dissolved water.

The gill-like slits on the faces of the third-stage rats begin to open and close, filtering oxygen from the water.

The gill slits on the neck of the fourth-generation mouse are fully expanded, and its shortened tail, which has become fish-like, thumps powerfully in the water, indicating that it has fully adapted to aquatic life.

The mouse also gracefully jumped in.

On land, it was just an overweight rat, but once in the water, all its movements became fluid.

It turned, swirled, dived, and jumped out of the water... its movements were even more energetic than during rehearsals.

Other water mice followed it, dancing around that single drop of water.

The audience gasped in surprise, then burst into laughter and applause.

The Golden booth was so lively that more and more people came to see what was so interesting.

"Don't go! We haven't gotten to the exciting part yet!"

"Where to? This is where the real Blackwater River research is taking place!"

"Sir!" shouted the university students from other booths.

No one paid any attention.

They could only watch in despair as the crowd surged toward Gordon and Charlotte.

drainage!

Gordon inwardly applauded. This was truly the Myriad Manifestations of Heavenly Guidance.

At the same time, some people's bodies react quickly and instinctively.

Gentlemen from certain associations, journalists, even a policeman and a priest… at least twenty people reacted! Swallowing hard, fingers trembling, legs tense…

Ellen was among them.

Her grey-green eyes lost their usual liveliness, and she involuntarily took a step forward, her infatuation becoming extremely genuine.

Gordon had seen her perform at a charity sale, and her expressions were completely rehearsed.

Only at this moment did she truly want to plunge into the water, return, and dissolve.

"Miss," the doctor said alertly, immediately stopping her, "...We should go; you have other commitments."

The doctor was deeply shaken.

From the very beginning, this guy had no intention of doing that kind of silly animal show; he wanted to find out who resonated with the aura of that sacred box.

This is a fishing net, and they are already standing inside it.

They completely underestimated him.

At the doctor's prompting, Ellen's body jolted.

"I almost forgot." She smiled again, as if nothing had happened.

The two men exited.

"Did you see that? Did you write it all down?" Gordon asked in a low voice.

"..." Martin's notes had been filled with a long list of entries, including names, what reactions people had while standing there, "23 people."

His expression, which had initially been merely cold, had now become focused and even menacing.

Who was trembling, who was trying to hide it? Their every move was under Martin's observation.

"Follow the priority," Gordon said in a low voice, his hands behind his back. "...Ordinary contaminants will approach blindly. But cultists will restrain themselves and will immediately cover up or leave."

Indeed, Martin paid close attention.

As the effects dissipate, those who have been contaminated are usually tidying up their clothes, looking confused and unsure why they would want to jump into a tank of water containing rats.

Normal people are completely unaware of this, and they simply discuss whether the mouse's diving action deserves a perfect score.

Martin's gaze was fixed on the singer at Green Garden Mansion and the doctor next to her.

"...Eileen Brundell." Martin circled the name.

"And that doctor, do you know him?"

"The veterinarian at Green Manor. Albert." Martin nodded.

"Make sure you stay with them. There are also a few other gentlemen whose bodies are acting strangely. I've already exhausted myself to locate them, so you guys can't let me down."

"I know." Martin turned to the side and made a few hand gestures to his subordinates in the crowd.

The plainclothes officers scattered in the crowd immediately approached silently. Martin whispered instructions for the next steps: follow them and verify their identities.

From that moment on, Green Garden Mansion transformed from a high-class mansion operating a cabaret and casino into a target requiring long-term monitoring.

Martin couldn't help but glance at Gordon a couple more times.

They identified 23 suspicious individuals in one go, more than the agency had done in the past ten months. If Gordon were an investigator now, he would already be eligible for a promotion.

Isn't this exactly the kind of outstanding talent the Department of Otherworld Affairs urgently needs?

Gordon nodded with satisfaction. The plan was half complete.

Now, finally, the powerful hand of the Imperial machine has fallen upon the Blackwater Hermitage.

Then, Gordon stepped forward to the front of the stage.

"What we just showed was the same precipitate as the one in the short newsletter from the Royal Logarithmics Journal, 'Experiment with Blackwater River Precipitates Inducing Deepclaw Demons.' It turns out that both deepclaw demons and mice affected by the blackwater river reacted to it in the same way, and there is reason to believe that humans would react similarly," Gordon explained.

Everyone listened attentively.

"To see how the Blackwater River specifically affects humans, you can look at that booth over there. My classmate John investigated 43 cases of human alienation," Gordon said, pointing to John's location.

Many people went over to observe John's presentation.

John's eyes welled up with tears.

His presentation was very detailed, but no one stopped to listen. He nodded to Gordon. The previously deserted booth finally welcomed its first visitors.

Then, Gordon wrote down a concept on the blackboard that was destined to go down in history.

"Blackwater Syndrome"

The reporters took notes in their notebooks.

"We are now officially naming this symptom, caused by long-term contact with the spirituality of the Blackwater River, Blackwater Syndrome," Gordon said.

The citizens watched intently.

People had actually heard about these things long ago.

The factory's laziness, the dock's water monkey disease, the tavern's riverside madness, the bad luck and misfortune mentioned by family members, the curses and possession mentioned by the church...

Previously, each victim was an isolated problem.

Now Gordon has gathered all the pain and uncertainty into one name.

People were initially horrified when the white mouse turned into a swimming monster.

But once Gordon mentioned the name of the illness, they felt somewhat relieved.

Even the most terrifying things can be analyzed and studied once they have a name.

"Blackwater Syndrome..."

"I see... "

"I have a relative who has this disease..."

"Incredible..."

Whispers spread through the crowd.

When everyone looked at Gordon again, their gazes were different.

"But sir," a reporter suddenly pointed to the latter part of "The Spiritual Shaping of Living Beings by the Blackwater River, and a Historical Interpretation," "...what does 'historical interpretation' refer to?"

"A myth called 'The King of Fishermen'," Gordon briefly introduced the information provided by Eve.

"The King of Fishermen!" People were very curious.

Among the crowd, a few people did not change their expressions, but their breathing became rapid and uneasy.

"Rumor has it that it was the former ruler of Lundenim, capable of continuously influencing the river, and also breeding followers and creating subjects. The current hypothesis is that there exists a vast source in the Blackwater River that continuously releases spiritual energy, constantly polluting and reshaping all the city's inhabitants, until the Fishing King can take over all of us without hindrance."

"That's just a hypothesis," the reporter pointed out the flaw. "You have no evidence to prove the existence of the Fishing King; it's just a myth."

"Yes, I really don't have any evidence at all," Gordon said bluntly.

This statement left many people stunned.

He just raised a huge topic that could give everyone nightmares tonight, and now he publicly admits that he knows nothing about it.

"...I only have one simple idea," Gordon wrote on the small blackboard.

"Seeking truth from facts"

Professor Winslow's eyes flickered slightly in the crowd.

"I don't believe in ancient legends, I only believe in what I see with my own eyes," Gordon nodded.

Gordon looked at the rat bar and the swimming rat in the water tank.

"Experiments have shown me that it can change mice."

He looked toward John's stall.

"John's research tells me that humans can also be alienated."

He looked at Martin.

"The attacks on the old fish market and the drownings on the shore tell me that this force is accelerating the destruction of our modern lives."

Gordon turned to the group.

"I'm not sure what the Fisher King wants to do or what specific abilities he has. But... if there really is a force beneath the Blackwater River that is reshaping Lundnium, we should find it, investigate it, and figure out what it really is."

"Logis expects everyone to do their part: the Academy conducts research, the Secretariat investigates, the Empire invests resources—everyone has their own responsibility. Although this shouldn't be an adventure for a student, I'm willing to go in and see for myself, to be the first to step into the river, to see if the Fishing King is some indescribable ancient being, or just an exceptionally large fish."

The crowd quieted down.

Professor Winslow stared intently at Gordon.

Move forward step by step, even if you are facing a world you cannot understand.

When he first heard Gordon introduce the Fishing King, he was actually quite worried about him overstepping his bounds, after all, Gordon could sometimes be... extremely crazy and might just spout nonsense.

But he didn't say anything rashly, remaining very rational.

Winslow suddenly realized.

The “Winslow School” that he had envisioned for a long time had unknowingly taken shape, and was more solid and vibrant than he had imagined.

It started with just a simple concept.

Be factual and seek truth from facts.

These four words are enough to form the core of the Winslow school, even better than Winslow himself imagined.

Let's start with the Blackwater Syndrome and establish this school of thought in the world.

After a brief silence, Winslow began to applaud.

Next to applaud were John, Peter who had escaped the crowd of college students, and Charlotte next to Gordon.

Then came the reluctant Earl of Montfort, several military representatives, citizens deeply troubled by the Blackwater River, and nearby, university students grieving over the diversion of the water…

Finally, Gordon and Charlotte's booth was flooded with applause!

Gordon accepted the offer readily and greeted everyone.

At the height of the applause, Gordon turned to Charlotte, who was clearly moved.

"Gorden...you're absolutely right." Charlotte leaned closer to Gordon, her cheeks slightly flushed, her eyes filled with pride.

"Quick, baby."

"Um?"

"Sell all the rats except the rodent bait, now," he lowered his voice, "after today the price will be different."