On the third day after the sixth batch of residents arrived at Agate Lake Camp, two residents were fortunate enough to receive greetings from the Exorcist.

Wilan and Grimm Wolf. The former received birthday wishes from Lu Li, while the latter was asked by Lu Li if his niece wanted to come to the Land of Light.

Although people wondered why the Exorcist knew about Grimm Wolf's niece and who she was, their envy was palpable—

Agate Lake Camp currently has 352 human residents, enough for someone to have a birthday every day, but they never received any blessings. The first four batches of residents rarely knew their own birthdays, and they even had trouble recalling whether they were born in the third or fifth year of the Weird Times.

Regardless, on Wilan's birthday, camp residents treated it as a festival to celebrate.

A historian mentioned that today was coincidentally the birthday of the famous philosopher Da Vinci, who was born 400 years ago. The residents didn't care who Da Vinci was; they just wanted to celebrate, laugh, and give praise.

From that day on, all residents were no longer plagued by nightmares: fear of being expelled; terror of the night's encroachment; despair of light never returning.

Occasionally, they would discuss it with neighbors or friends and then find out, surprisingly, that the other had also had an impressive, delightful dream.

Some clever individuals among the residents had already deduced that the root of the dreamless nights was the Exorcist living on Lake Heart Island. The long Cursed Title before his name was already well-known among them.

Residents gradually got used to the dessert-like, wonderful dreamscape, and Lu Li also gradually got used to Anna Anna's companionship, as if she truly existed.

...

The warm afternoon sunlight streamed through the windows, and the new walls and desks gave off the fresh scent of wood.

Warm, hazy beams floated like curtains over Old Belfast.

Nothing strange disrupted this beauty, except…

"Mitra... Mitra... Mr. Mitra!"

The sound of knocking on the podium and a shout snapped Mitra out of his daze as he gazed out the window, seeing the old scholar Vincent and the class of students turning their heads to look at him.

Embarrassment from his student days, long forgotten in the apocalypse, returned to this man in his thirties.

"Sorry, Mr. Vincent, I was... lost in thought solving a problem just now."

Mitra stood up and apologized, habitually making excuses, then noticed Gael chuckling in the distance. Of course he'd laugh; this scene had happened countless times when they were kids. Sometimes it was him, sometimes it was Gael, sometimes it was Porter.

"So, did you figure it out, Mr. Mitra?"

"Uh, not yet..."

"... Please sit down."

Enduring the embarrassing stares, Mitra sat down, adopting an attitude of paying attention for the remaining ten minutes before the class ended. As for what he was thinking, no one knew.

"That's the end of Alchemy. Next is Mechanics. Remember to change into your dirty clothes; it requires practice outside the hall." Vincent, who had yet to recover from seasickness after almost a week, left with the help of a cane.

And like all schools, the classroom atmosphere relaxed with the professor's departure.

Gael approached and sat on a desk, only to be pushed away by Mitra: "You're no longer a child. Get your 150-pound butt off my new desk."

"After my serious illness, I'm down to just 130 pounds." Gael shrugged, leaning on the desk, and asked, "You seem in a bad mood."

"Can't remember at all..." Mitra ruffled his messy brown hair into a bird's nest: "I didn't know 'Alchemical Elixirs' were so complicated... Half a pinch of Gray Nightshade powder into a fermented soil container for distillation..."

"It's mixing the fermented soil into the container for distillation."

Gael corrected his mistake, yet he too understood: "Admit our age, we're no longer young, learning and memorizing such things aren't suited for us. Luckily the camp doesn't force us to master Alchemy, we can choose what we're good at, or..."

"Or like Porter?" Mitra suddenly said.

"Or like Porter," Gael whispered in admiration.

Since the schoolhouse started, Porter seemed like a changed person. They hadn't seen him in days, except during the Mysticism Course. They no longer gathered as before to chat, play music, or discuss current affairs. He even gave up all courses, including Alchemy, dedicating all his time to Mysticology.

He desperately wanted to become an Exorcist.

"Maybe Porter really can become an Exorcist," Gael said.

"Impossible..."

Exorcists had long been people's glory and hope, something they never dared dream to become.

But Mitra, who instinctively refuted, suddenly closed his mouth, hesitating before sighing: "... Let's hope."

They decided to visit their good friend; at this time, he should be studying Mysticology at home.

Skipping the Mechanics class they were both not good at, Mitra and Gael went to find Porter. When the door opened, they saw Porter, with hair messier than Mitra's, looking exhausted and haggard.

Only a few days had passed, but he seemed to have aged several years.

"Are you okay? You should really get some rest." They did not hide their concern for their friend.

"I know, but the first test is tomorrow afternoon, and I need to score well on the Mysticology test to have a chance to become an Exorcist... I'll let myself rest for a day after it's over." Porter, with bloodshot eyes, returned to the room, clearing chairs for them, and scolded the person beside him: "Be quiet, Horn, we have guests."

Horn was Porter's younger brother, who had become an Alien and was expelled from Vena Ice-Free Port years ago.

Following behind, Mitra and Gael exchanged a glance. When they neared the table, Porter suddenly seized him, dragging him into the bedroom and throwing him onto the bed.

"What... What are you doing?" The exhaustion made Porter slow to react.

"Making sure you rest." Gael laid a blanket over him, cocooning him like a chrysalis. "At this rate, your body and mind will collapse. You already show signs of Low Sanity Value Syndrome, and if it appears, you'll be disqualified too!"

It wasn't true, but to make his friend rest, he had to lie.

Whoosh—

Mitra drew the curtains, blocking the sunlight from falling on the bed.

"Alright..."

The warmth and fatigue made Porter give up, his eyelids getting heavier until he quickly succumbed to sleep, snoring echoing softly.

"He's asleep."

Gael shook Porter, but couldn't wake him, meaning he wasn't pretending to sleep.

Leaving the sleeping Porter, they walked out of the bedroom. Mitra picked up the book Porter was reading: "Mysticology Views," one of the many books brought back by a merchant from the Old Sewer system, published in Midnight City.

The desk was also stacked with "Mysticology Level 1," "Basic Knowledge," and other books related to Mysticology.

"It seems we're going to have an Exorcist among us."

Mitra chuckled, placing a bookmark in Porter's book, organizing them neatly, then quietly left Porter's home with Gael.

Hope he can have a good dream.

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