If it was truly something dangerous, he wanted to know about it, especially with Excelsior potentially returning with people previous to him.
'I need to find out more about this "Foul Brine"—I'm not going to drag my friends and family here just for them to turn into that thing back there. I have nothing else to do right now anyway,' he thought.
An alternate path was taken through the Cerulean Keep as he followed the hammer-headed butler up a spiraling set of stairs, passing by a translucent pillar before arriving at a second floor he hadn't seen yet.
"I haven't seen Bastian today," Emilio remarked.
"Mr. Seraphheart is a busy man. The work he does is invaluable. He's spent countless decades pursuing the Children of Chaos and taking the fight to them–some may call him a workaholic," Consurge told him, "He's constantly on the move–hence why he's earned the nickname 'The Nomad' by those who know him."
'This guy is a walking encyclopedia–until I ask him the questions that matter,' he thought.
Though it seemed a lot of respect was had for Bastian, which made him feel his own sense of pride, having a fellow reincarnator like him be looked at in such a way.
Following Consurge, he found the corridor they turned into to be cramped and dark; crates and books littered the hall, leading only to one doorway.
"Past that door is where you'll find the one who can answer your questions—the leading researcher on the Foul Brine," the butler told him.
For some reason, the small butler stopped there, opting not to go any further as Emilio was left to move ahead on his own.
'Is anything normal about this place?' He questioned.
Slow steps were taken down the hall as he carried himself with caution, being forced to step over scattered papers and tossed books before reaching the door at the end. It was completely covered in barnacles; even the handle was encrusted in the odd, little arthropods.
As he turned the handle and opened the door, he immediately found the air from behind the door pushing out, as if it had been closed for some time.
"--"
The room was dimly lit as he walked in, seeing a gemstone used for light on a tray; books were scattered on the floor and various shelves, strewn around the room with pages fluttering everywhere–a complete mess.
"Ah! Sorry for the mess–wait, who are you?"
A feminine voice met his ears, though he had to look around to figure out where it was coming from for a second.
"Right over here–yes, to your left," the voice guided him.
Finding the source of the high-pitched, energetic voice, he found it to belong to a woman he didn't notice, who had been standing in the shadowy corners of the room. She had clammy, dark-blue skin and hair like seaweed that hung down in front of her face; unmistakably an Atlanean of the same type as the king.
In her arms, the unknown Atlan woman held a few books, which she set down after shuffling over to her desk.
"I take it you're a reincarnator, seeing as no other humans are permitted within–well, leagues within this place," the woman said, adjusting her circular-rimmed rimmed glasses as she looked up at him.
"I'm Emilio Dragonheart. Sorry for the, err…intrusion," he apologized as he glanced around, taking note of just how unorderly the dark, cramped room was.
She looked at him for a moment before stepping closer, entering his personal space and bypassing it completely as she inspected him up close and personal.
"Err…" Emilio raised an eyebrow.
"I see, I see. 'Dragonheart'--quite the name you've been gifted. There is a lot of power attached to the surnames of reincarnators, and the "dragon" is no exception," the woman said before pulling away with a fascinated smile.
"Yeah, sure…Consurge said you could tell me about the Foul Brine. Is that true?" Emilio asked.
The woman adjusted her glasses again before looking at him with her magenta eyes, "Perhaps. Call me Malune. I'm the head–well, only alchemist in Atlan. Now, all of my time has been dedicated to researching the Foul Brine."
"Just what is it, really? I saw it out there–outside of the keep. Entire houses were encased, and even a person was completely covered in salt. Even more, they were mindlessly aggressive," he asked.
Melune sat down at her desk, flipping through her own journal that was filled with messily written notes and sketches, "Your findings are indeed the truth; the Foul Brine is an invasive plague. It turns Atlans into what you saw, infecting them if the salt merely touches their skin. However…"
"Yeah?"
"I believe humans possess a special resistance against the Foul Brine. Hmm, would you perhaps be interested in being used to experiment the conditions of the Foul Brine's effect on humans?" Melune asked with a wildly curious smile.
"No."
"Really–"
"No."
His adamant rejection of the vastly risky request put a frown on the alchemist's face, though she quickly changed the subject back to its original course.
"I do have to ask…Why're you interested in the Foul Brine? It should be insignificant to you as long as you stay within the keep, especially as a human," Melune asked.
"If this is a long term 'base of operations', then I need to make sure it's safe for my friends and family that come here," he told the truth, "but it sounds like I have nothing to worry about, then."
The conclusion he came to seemed to leave the alchemist dissatisfied, though mostly because of the clear and concise rejection of her offer. As he glanced around the cluttered room, he found peculiar things sitting on the shelves, mostly kept in jars: salt-encrusted coral, entire jars of salt, and weird concoctions that sat with vibrant colors.
"...If you're adamant about declining my offer, then I will respect that. However, there is just one request I will leave with you, if you're willing," Melune proposed, tapping her fingers against her glasses.
"Sure, I'll listen," Emilio looked at her.
"I can tell you're strong and capable. There is one "Brined One" that has been lurking around the outskirts of Atlan for some time now. As a former resident of Atlan, they're able to come in-and-out of the barrier as they please, but…they've lost all sense of who they were," Melune explained.
"Who is it?"
"A man named Hydraero; the former general of the Atlan army and its strongest warrior–he was fully taken by the Foul Brine and turned into a berserker," Melune looked at him while explaining, "Please, if you find him, capture him and bring him to me."
The alchemist looked at him with a serious look in her eyes, though the request was something that conflicted with what he was already told by another.
"I captured somebody inflicted with the Foul Brine before I came here and that butler didn't let them anywhere near the keep–in fact, he killed it," Emilio told her, "How are you expecting me to bring one to you?"
"With this!" Melune held a proud smirk as she presented an object to him.
It was a cerulean syringe filled with some sort of glowing, gold liquid, which he accepted while inspecting closely.
"What's it?"
"It's a special concoction I've developed. Plunge that into Hydraero while he's weakened, and he'll be temporarily turned into a marble. Then, it'll be simple to bring him to me! So, how about it?" Melune proposed.
"What's in it for me?" Emilio asked.
Of course, this was the most important question of them all when it came to forming a request to the certified world-class adventurer: the prize at the end of the unofficial quest.
Melune adjusted her glasses, "Hydraero was the first to be inflicted with the Foul Brine. He's the source of it. If I can get my hands on him, I can assure you I can end the plague of salt. However…I do not believe the sanctity of Atlan is proper motivation for you, so in turn I will reward you with my body."
"Pass," Emilio raised his hand.
"What–?" Melune looked flabbergasted by the quick rejection.
"Sorry, it's not that–it's just, I already have a special somebody in mind," Emilio said, "Don't worry–I'll keep an eye out for this Hydraero figure."
Melune was still flustered, nervously and frantically fiddling with her glasses as she quietly nodded, "Y-yes, that would be great…thank you."
As he left the cramped room with the task given to him as an option to carry out, he let out a sigh to himself in thought of the request given and reward offered.
'I may be a degenerate, but I am not losing my virginity to a fish woman. I would never live that down,' he thought.
It wasn't as though he lacked proper motivation; the Foul Brine was a threat to humans, after all, and he didn't want it infecting any of his friends or family when they came.
Walking back down the staircase of the keep, he found a familiar, bearded figure standing in the hall, leaning against a wall.
"Bastian," Emilio called out.
"Done with your meeting? I didn't want to interrupt," Bastian asked.
"Yeah–where were you?"
"Just handling some business," Bastian told him, "So, are you ready? To find Sirius–the next reincarnator of the prophecy, that is."
He had almost forgotten about it, getting caught up in the troublesome existence of the salty plague, though it was a task that was heavily urgent.
"Yeah, I am," Emilio nodded, tapping his belt as if showcasing he was ready as his sword was sheathed at his hip.
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