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墨書 Inktalez
After leaving the hospital, they boarded a special extended vehicle. This car was custom-made and far more luxurious than the rugged SUV they had used before. It also exuded a sense of history.
In this day and age, it was surprising to see a sedan with a square shape. Most cars nowadays are designed for comfort, but this one was quite the opposite; it was uncomfortable inside. If it weren't for the fact that this was the first model produced by Porsche, it would have likely been retired long ago. It was doubtful that even museums still had this car on display. If it were in the hands of a dedicated collector, its value would have skyrocketed.
It seemed that this car ultimately ended up with Hilbert, who collected and maintained it. This limited edition Porsche antique no longer boasted the speed it once had during its prime, which had attracted countless girls. Now, driving on asphalt roads, it aimed to convey a sense of grandeur—perhaps this was simply the nostalgia of an old man at play.
Moreover, while Hilbert appeared to be eighty years old, his actual age had reached one hundred and fifteen. He was essentially a relic from a century ago. In this century, Porsche's factory had long since closed down, and any remaining parts could only be found on the black market. The car was not environmentally friendly; although the noise level was manageable, one could only imagine what thoughts would cross a traffic officer's mind upon seeing an elderly man without a driver's license behind the wheel.
Such behavior was indeed reckless. The seats were not particularly comfortable but had been modified to feel somewhat soft. As they drove, there was a noticeable force pushing them back into their seats. The old man didn't seem to realize he was aging; he still thought of himself as young. The police were oblivious to his reckless actions, and soon enough, they turned into a corner and vanished.
They hadn't truly disappeared; to an outsider, it might have seemed so. In reality, they had become invisible or absorbed into the Alchemical module. They drove underground—wasn't that akin to traveling on an underground highway? There were no police to interfere down there, and the dirt and rocks posed no hindrance at all; it felt as if the car passed through air itself in a straight line toward its destination.
Before long, they arrived at the Association Building. The Porsche parked in a warehouse where specialists waxed and maintained it to prolong its durability. It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that this car was likely the last Porsche still registered for use in the world; it was ancient enough to belong in a museum collection. Hilbert disliked keeping his old companion stored away.
To him, as long as it could run, it should race toward its destination until it could no longer move. This philosophy encapsulated his life—like an endless marathon; if there were an end, it would only come when he exhausted himself completely. He lived with this awareness throughout his century-long life.
Hilbert led the two upstairs. "Where are we going?" Freyr asked as they climbed the stairs, noting that they didn't seem to be heading back to an office building. He couldn't help but wonder about their next destination.
Hilbert shook his head slightly and replied, "You'll find out when you follow me. You both did well this time; it's our mistake, so we must give you what you deserve. We leaders can't always take advantage of you, can we? You've risked your lives for this; you've earned it. Don't ask—just come up and see."
"Okay, Mr. Hilbert," Freyr responded.
They continued up the stairs without knowing how long they had been walking when they entered a corridor that felt unfamiliar yet safe enough to trust Hilbert wouldn’t lead them astray. Soon after, they stopped in front of a room door.
The room appeared quite ordinary from the outside. Hilbert knocked on the door and walked in, followed closely by two others.
Upon entering, he found many people seated inside. They all turned their attention to the door as it swung open, and upon seeing the newcomers, they immediately stood up.
"Are you happy?" a woman rushed out and hugged Freyr tightly.
The woman was Su Qian, and this time she was exceptionally gentle. However, Freyr was taken aback, unsure why his wife was in this room. They embraced each other, and soon the others began to cheer.
"Yeah, a bit. I didn't expect this," Freyr replied.
Hilbert cast a deep glance at Freyr but said nothing; he simply retreated to one side of the room. Before long, he settled onto a sofa and opened a bottle of Champagne, drinking directly from it.
He had little to celebrate; the room was still in party mode, having cleared out the entire floor for this occasion. He had made enough concessions for it.
As the festivities continued late into the night, everyone eventually returned home. Each mission often left them injured—an unavoidable reality for hunters. Although high risks promised high rewards, they were fortunate to return alive. The Survey Gem was in Hilbert's possession, and scientists were diligently researching the state of the mushrooms. No one expected them to survive that ordeal; typically, elite teams lost half their members, yet they returned unscathed aside from some serious injuries—effectively reducing casualties to zero.
Standing on his balcony, Freyr savored the feeling of being home. The memories of the past had yet to return fully, but those dreams felt so real that he wished Su Qian could help him discern what was real and what was not. He longed to recall his past.
Although Su Qian knew their time together would not last long due to the President's demands, they could still cherish this moment. At least it would take some time for his companions to recover, allowing her to stay by her husband's side during this period.
They fell asleep in each other's arms. The next morning came early; Freyr needed to fully regain his physical strength. He had stopped taking those potions since the nutritional fluids had nourished his body, enhancing his resilience beyond what it had been before—every benefit came with its drawbacks.
He realized that his previous training methods had helped him regain his skills, but his weight had put him in poor condition. This state would certainly be inadequate when the next mission arrived; he needed to restore himself to at least the level he was at before executing missions.
To this end, he was about to begin a new training regimen, a crash course lasting half a month.
Since he had only recently recovered, his body was not yet prepared, so the first training session needed to be slow. After that, he would gradually increase the intensity of his workouts.
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