System in Assassin's Creed

Chapter 153: Chapter 152: Manila

[Current Balance: 11,889,053,200 R]

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The flight across the Pacific was a long, quiet affair.

For days, there was nothing below but the endless, deep blue of the ocean, a massive, shifting canvas under the sun and stars.

Alaric flew steadily, the Fuinjutsu seals on his arms making the journey effortless, a silent glide through the upper atmosphere.

He didn’t need to rest, but he sometimes paused, hovering in the vast emptiness, watching clouds drift by, a solitary figure between the sea and the sky.

He had left Pennsylvania in the cool of early November. When he finally saw the scattered, emerald-green islands of Las Islas Filipinas on the horizon, the air had turned warm and heavy with humidity.

He arrived as evening began to fall, descending from the clouds like a ghost onto a secluded stretch of white sand beach miles north of Manila Bay.

The scent of salt, damp earth, and tropical flowers filled the air. It was a world away from the cool autumn of the American colonies.

[System Currency Updated]

[Real Converted to Spanish Colonial Real...]

[Conversion Fee: - 1 R]

[Current Balance: 11,889,053,199 R]

Alaric ignored the familiar notification, as his focus was elsewhere. Before taking a single step towards civilization, he found a tall, sturdy palm tree at the edge of the jungle and scaled it with ease. He settled on a thick frond near the top, the leaves providing cover as he looked out over the distant, flickering lights of Manila.

He closed his eyes.

He focused, pushing his senses outwards. The Mind’s Eye of the Kagura activated, his consciousness expanding in a silent, invisible wave.

It washed over the landscape, sweeping across the dense jungle, the small coastal villages, and then the sprawling, crowded city itself. He felt the life within it... tens of thousands of individual signatures, a buzzing hive of human activity.

He searched, probing through the noise for a specific energy. He was looking for a signature he knew, one he’d been close to for many years... Caroline’s. Or, failing that, the overwhelming, corrupting hum of an Apple of Eden.

He found nothing.

There was no trace of her, no echo of the Apple’s immense power. It was like searching a crowded room for someone who had never been there. The cold realization settled in his gut.

She was gone. She had already come and passed through this place months ago. This wasn’t a rescue mission anymore. It was an investigation.

Alaric’s expression hardened. He dropped silently from the tree, landing softly on the sand. The first order of business was to blend in. His fine clothes and platinum hair were a dead giveaway.

With a simple hand sign, he activated the Henge no Jutsu. His features softened, his hair darkened to a common brown, and his crimson coat and tailored vest shifted, morphing into the simple, loose-fitting trousers and a plain linen shirt of a common Spanish sailor or a mestizo trader. He was now just another face in the crowd.

He began walking south along the coast, following the shoreline towards the distant glow of Manila.

The city was a chaotic mix of cultures and smells. Spanish colonial architecture, with its whitewashed walls and heavy wooden balconies, stood alongside the simpler bamboo and nipa huts of the local Tagalog people. In a district near the port, the distinct red-tiled roofs and paper lanterns of the Parian marked the bustling Chinese quarter.

Spanish soldiers, in their stifling wool uniforms, patrolled the main thoroughfares, their presence a constant reminder of who was in charge.

Alaric moved through the crowds easily, his disguised appearance drawing no special attention. His Mind’s Eye passively scanned the emotions of the people around him... the general weariness of the laborers, the arrogance of the soldiers, the guarded shrewdness of the merchants.

There was no lingering psychic residue, no city-wide sense of awe or fear that an active Apple of Eden would likely leave in its wake.

His first priority was a base. He avoided the larger, more prominent inns near the port, settling instead on a small, clean posada tucked away on a side street. He paid the owner for a week’s stay, the silver Reales from his System feeling solid and real in his palm.

[Money Withdrawal: - 70 R]

[Current Balance: 11,889,053,129 R]

Inside the small, sparse room, his first act was to crouch down and press his palm against the floorboards under the simple cot. A faint shimmer of chakra, invisible to any normal eye, left a permanent Hiraishin marker. His escape route was now secure.

With his foundation set, the hunt began.

He made his way to the waterfront taverns, places that smelled of spilled rum, sweat, and desperation. He found a dark corner in a particularly rowdy establishment, ordered a mug of cheap ale, and simply listened.

For hours, he sat, a silent observer in a sea of noise. Sailors from different ships exchanged drunken stories, merchants complained about port taxes and pirates, and soldiers boasted of their easy assignments in the peaceful colony. Alaric filtered through the mundane chatter, his enhanced senses picking up every whispered rumor, every slurred confession.

He was listening for a ghost.

A story that didn’t quite fit. A detail that was out of place.

He heard tales of bar brawls, profitable voyages, and corrupt officials, but nothing that pointed to a woman with a mind-altering artifact. The trail was colder than he expected. Caroline had been here, but she had moved with a subtlety that was deeply unnerving. The Apple wasn’t just making her persuasive; it was making her smart.

Just as he was about to give up for the night, he caught a fragment of a conversation from a nearby table. Two grizzled sailors, their faces weathered from years at sea, were arguing over a card game.

”...and I tell you, Ignacio, the captain was mad,” one sailor slurred, slamming his cards down. ”We were loaded with Chinese silk, bound for Acapulco. A fortune! Then, out of nowhere, he orders us to change course. Sail to a damned deserted atoll in the middle of nowhere.”

”He said it was a ’pilgrimage’,” the other sailor, Ignacio, scoffed. ”A pilgrimage to a pile of rocks! All because some woman whispered in his ear. We lost two weeks, and the trade winds nearly left us stranded.”

”That woman...” the first sailor muttered, his voice dropping. ”She wasn’t right. The way she looked at you... it was like she saw right into your soul. And the captain... he’d have given her the whole damned ship if she’d asked.”

Alaric’s focus sharpened. He stayed perfectly still, not wanting to alert them to his interest.

”They said she paid him with a single, strange-looking pearl,” Ignacio continued, shaking his head. ”A pearl for a hold full of silk. Madness. Then, after we dropped her off on that rock, she just... vanished. Never saw her again. The captain was like a man waking from a dream. Couldn’t even remember why he’d done it.”

The first sailor shuddered. ”Gave me the creeps, she did. Like a ghost... a beautiful, terrifying ghost.”

Alaric took a slow sip of his ale, his mind racing. A woman with unnatural powers of persuasion. A mysterious island. A captain acting against his own interests. This was it. This was the first breadcrumb.

He stood up, leaving a few extra coins on the table, and quietly slipped out of the tavern. He walked back through the dark, humid streets of Manila, the sailors’ story replaying in his mind.

He had a lead. It was faint, months old, and pointed to a deserted rock in the middle of the vast Pacific.

But it was a start.

The ghost hunt had officially begun.

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