Sunders did not figure out how or where the nightmare aura was generated. So far, it seemed beneficial to both of them.
At the end of their testing session, Sunders recorded several more questions in his research notebook and ended their meeting there.
Angor put on the glove again and waved his right hand while feeling uncertain about it. He guessed that enhancing his illusions was a good thing. Even so, he felt uncomfortable and unsafe because the strength did not belong to him. Even though the outcome turned out to be desirable, it might not stay that way in the long run.
For now, Angor would consider his new ability a secret weapon used for surprising enemies, while at the same time, he wouldn’t rely on it too much because he might lose it someday.
Only knowledge and skill gained with diligence and effort was one’s own, true strength. He might have used his hologram tablet to “cheat” when drawing runes. Even so, with enough practice, he could very well complete most of the runes that he was familiar with without the machine’s help. In other words, he fully mastered the skills for real.
His right hand, however, came to him all of a sudden without going through any laborious endeavor. This wasn’t right.
He bid farewell to Sunders and returned to the soundproof room to finish his routine meditation. Once done, he took out his energy stabilizer and greyspace microbes as well as some supplementary materials. It was time to work on the storage items that he wanted to sell at the auction.
...
While he worked into the late night, the cultists who were knocked out earlier slowly regained consciousness after lying on the cold ground for almost an entire day.
It wasn’t a serious issue to lose a fight—there was no constant winner in this world. Even mighty wizards would occasionally run into trouble that they couldn’t handle. However, things were different if ALL elite apprentices sent by Supreme Cult were wiped out in an instant by a single man.
The situation was made a lot worse when they woke up only to see another shadowy figure, who was covered under black smoke, standing right next to them.
The Black Bishop had come.
The bishop only sent an avatar to the city, yet it was enough to scare all the apprentices into dead silence.
“Such disgrace...” The bishop said in trembling voice as if he couldn’t contain his rage. “Right this moment, the entire city has known that a team of us was defeated by someone at Cork Street without even having a chance to put up a fight. Answer me, whose will are you following?
“It’s the world’s consciousness!” The bishop did not wait for a response. “You have brought shame to its name! You are the law enforcers of this VERY WORLD! And you got knocked out like insects?! You all should end your misery by slitting your necks right here!”
The scolded apprentices knelt with their heads lowered. No one dared to look up.
For a moment, the bishop did wish to kill these apprentices. Yet he gave up on second thought, as doing so would not help with anything right now. Their defeat was already known by others.
However... we can still do SOMETHING...
“Branso, get up. Tell me what happened here. Who sent those infidels upon us? WHO DID THIS?!”
Branso was Black Bishop’s personal student. He was the cultist dressed in an armored robe as well as the person who spoke to Angor in Rosy Boutique.
As Branso carefully explained their fight earlier, Black Bishop’s expression turned violent again. He thought that a group of relatively strong apprentices had defeated his men, which meant that it wouldn’t be difficult to handle as they just had to find these people again and give them a little “warning”.
But it was just one man! ONE, MAN!
Also, according to Branso, the fight ended within several seconds with the offender being totally unharmed.
If everyone else were to learn about this particular detail, it would then be the biggest joke that ever happened to the Supreme Cult.
Most importantly, if they were to send people to take revenge against this lone attacker, it would only further smudge their name!
“Who is it?!” The bishop bellowed in rage.
“Angor Padt, sir.”
“Angor Padt? Angor Padt...” the bishop muttered this name several times and finally recalled a certain rising alchemist who was the center of attention among all alchemists who were working at Floating Mech City.
Naturally, people mainly considered some of the articles that described Angor as a potential Mystery alchemist as jokes to be laughed upon. However, wizards as powerful as Black Bishop had their own authoritative sources of information, which meant that they could get more information compared to ordinary folks.
He knew that the “rumor” was true.
There were many wizards who attempted to approach Angor recently, either to befriend him or to earn some recognition from Sunders. After all, everybody could see how the gentleman treasured his student. Angor’s promising potential to become a future master alchemist was another reason for people to value him.
“I see...” Black Bishop pondered over the situation. He knew that Angor was an alchemist. Even so, how did an alchemist defeat so many apprentices so easily?
Unless... he used that “incomplete” Mystery item? That must be it! Nothing else can explain how a freaking alchemist stood up against my men!
When thinking about this, the bishop’s anger was greatly reduced. Losing against the owner of a Mystery item, even a defective one, didn’t sound as embarrassing.
Besides, he couldn’t do anything to Angor right now even if he were to come to the city personally, not when Sunders was still looking. Not only that, Angor was one of the most famous figures in the entire city. Harming him would bring unnecessary trouble to the cult.
“Okay... listen, it’s fine to lose against him. If you didn’t know, he possessed an incomplete Mystery item. But don’t let it happen again! The next time you fight him, do not give him any time to prepare that weapon, and with that, you’ll beat him down without a problem.”
“I’ll challenge him tomorrow, sir!” Branso tapped his sword on the ground and did a knight’s salute.
“Humph! He’s only an alchemist, not a fighter. Don’t make the matter any more complicated than it already is! Get back to Sin World tomorrow. All of you!”
With that, the image of Black Bishop vanished.
The remaining cultists looked at each other hesitantly. The bishop’s words made them feel just a little bit better. Even so, losing was still losing. It was nothing to celebrate for.
Among them, Saladin was the only one who still had doubts regarding what Black Bishop said.
That mist... it felt like exactly the same as the Fear cantrip I experienced in the garden. Was that really caused by a Mystery item?
...
As the cultists hurried to leave the dark alleyway, Angor was still focused on his crafting.
Again, he conveniently “slacked off” on his job by slotting simple marbles inside pendants shaped as butterfly wings. For one, such items were extremely easy and fast to make. Besides, he could conclude each product as low-level storage items, which meant that there wouldn’t be any alchemy omens.
By maximizing the possible storage space, each “butterfly necklace” was a personal storage of 5 cubic meters. On average, each one would usually cost above 20,000 magic crystals. After giving Sunders his share, Angor could still earn 10,000 crystals out of each item.
Making money was the most urgent task right now. As for further enlarging the storage space... he could, but it would take a lot of time, while the auction was only about five days away.
Days quickly passed by while Angor indulged himself in work. As he gained proficiency, each new necklace now only took him about 30 hours to make.
The available time allowed him to complete three necklaces. He added some extra paints and contrasts to these three necklaces, which made them different from the plain-colored necklaces that he made before.
Currently, he was attempting to finish the fourth and the last necklace, which should be a golden one added with black stripes. Even though the auction would stop accepting new entries tonight, he still had enough time to complete his job.
As planned, he finished his “Darkgold Butterfly” before nightfall.
Stepping out of the soundproof room, he felt tired and sleepy after all the labor he did. Even so, he couldn’t rest yet as he needed to head to the auction and send the items to be registered.
The sky was still bright with the color of dusk. He arrived at the main stage where Sky Auction would be held. It was one of the biggest structures in the main city district—a multi-floor tower with a giant, round roof.
A worker listened to Angor’s request and took him to the inspection room. There weren’t many people selling items this time, so he didn’t need to wait for very long.
The Sky Auction had a restriction that denied items below a certain price level.
Angor’s Bloodrose Vein and storage items easily earned a pass. Meanwhile, according to the appraiser, his necklaces would be displayed earlier in the queue since they were less important compared to the other items, which was totally expected.
Once everything was handed in, Angor prepared to leave the inspection room and return to the manor.
But he halted his movement when a familiar figure came into his view.