Warlock Apprentice

Two hours later, Heroline’s ears twitched as she turned to speak to everyone.

“I’ve received the message that Doctor Anglo is on his way here.”

This meant they could soon set up their next plan after listening to Anglo’s “plucking”.

A while later, the wooden door of the hut squeaked as two individuals walked inside. The one walking in the front was a middle-aged wizard with short, clean-cut gray hair and a pair of gold-rimmed glasses. His clothes looked as orderly and tidy as his face. This man carried a pile of parchments clamped between two wooden folder pieces, which made him look like a teacher who was about to start his lesson.

The one behind him was an apprentice in a black robe. The others glanced at his hunched figure and no longer minded him.

“Do you have enough to commence your plucking, Doctor Anglo?” Douglas stepped up and addressed the man with glasses.

Anglo bowed to Sunders first before speaking, “Mister Radiance. No, using what I already have, it’s almost impossible to completely pluck the strings of this world.”

“You mean…?”

Anglo checked through several of the parchments he was carrying. “Any result I might read now is likely to be incorrect. Do know that I’ve tried my best. There’s nothing else I can do, unless…”

“Unless?” Douglas moved closer to him.

“Unless someone returns from the outer city and brings me more direct clues. A familiar, a puppet, anything will do.”

“If anyone can do that, they’d have come to us already! And if that’s the case, they can just tell me what’s going on in there. Why do we need your help?” Someone outside the door scoffed before he came in.

It was an old man with a dark-colored robe and long, white beard.

“Mister Qetesh!” Most wizards in the hut showed their manners. Angor also stood up from his seat.

Sunders remained where he was without moving—his strength and fame in the wizarding world allowed him to disregard such conventions.

As for Douglas, he did not need to show courtesy to Qetesh since both of them were leaders of Sleepless City.

“Do you have an opinion, Qetesh?” asked Douglas.

“I have none.” Qetesh pretended that he didn’t care much about their discussion, yet he would occasionally shift his gaze toward Sunders.

As someone who once explored the Nightmare Realm, Qetesh recognized the particular nightmare aura hidden within the darkness, which probably suggested the existence of a nightmare tunnel. Yet he wasn’t sure about it because every known tunnel in history only stayed active for a short period of time.

Sunders was undeniably the most knowledgeable man when it came to anything regarding the Nightmare Realm. Most wizards had witnessed the gentleman’s terrifying nightmare illusions and power. Qetesh was sure he could learn useful clues from this gentleman.

However, his attempts, which included several private voice transmissions, did not yield any result—Sunders simply wouldn’t tell him.

Similarly, Qetesh did not want to tell Douglas his own assumptions for selfish reasons, so he pretended that he wasn’t interested in Douglas’ questions.

Douglas never expected Qetesh to provide any sound opinion at all. He was talking to Anglo again, “What can you tell us currently, doctor?”

Anglo swiftly read through his parchments again while his glasses glared brightly.

“I can make an attempt… and tell you a general conclusion of something.”

Douglas considered. “Can you tell us what would become of the outer city? Will it be okay, or…”

Anglo remained silent for a moment.

“This isn’t a hard question. However, different entities have varied ideas for what is good or what is bad. If I’m to pluck for an answer for this, the outcome will be based on this world, but not us. You must give me another precondition.”

“Can you make the answer based on Sleepless City?”

“So you wish to know whether this incident will benefit or harm the city?” Anglo held his chin and nodded. “Alright.”

Without waiting any longer, Anglo began to perform his original spell named “String Pluck”.

The wooden folder in his hand glowed brightly as it gave birth to a number of magical shadows. The parchments within the folder slowly turned to dust and disappeared into the shadows.

An ancient and overwhelming aura that seemed to represent all beings of this world descended upon the hut.

Several rays of light flashed between Anglo’s fingers. They swirled and intertwined with each other. Some of them were stopped by Anglo, while some were let go, which soon disappeared into somewhere unknown.

Each time he “caught” a string of light, Anglo would frown harder as beads of sweat appeared on his sleek face. Soon, his glasses grew foggy.

The amazing and colorful sight gradually died down; only about a hundred “strings” remained around Anglo’s fingers. He let out a deep breath and gave Douglas a tired look. “It’s done. I need some time to deduce the result.”

He then took out an empty parchment and began to write all kinds of strange numbers and formulas on it while wrapping the strings he had obtained around his quill.

It took him a long time.

Angor wished to observe Anglo’s work and see if he could learn something, but he soon felt sleepy for some reason.

Sunders noticed his student nodding off and chuckled.

“Stop it,” Sunders spoke through their Spirit Bond, “you can’t possibly see anything at your current level. You’ll risk damaging your own spirit instead.”

Angor quickly gave up. “Was that the ‘plucking’?”

“Correct. Do you remember the three main elements used by prophets, which I mentioned before? The Stream of Fate, the Wheel of Time, and the World Strings. Anglo’s ‘plucking’ is used to read usable information from the World Strings.

“Apart from these three, there are other minor sects such as ‘Axis of Stars’, ‘The Bell of Enigma’, ‘Wordless Deity’, and so on. If you’re interested in prophecy, try reading Nebula’s Creed. A new edition comes out once every 50 years, and the editors can tell you the newest prophecy-related arts.”

Angor always believed that prophecy was all about reading stars or someone’s palm. It seemed he was wrong.

Again, he felt both depressed and excited for being mentally poor. There was so much to learn!

Pursuing the ultimate truth helped wizards see how insignificant they were in this world, thus gaining the ambition to fear and learn the endless knowledge the world had to offer.

While Anglo was busy with his work, the other wizards in the hut whispered among each other; they were either talking about the darkness outside or other irrelevant matters.

Angor was gazing at the outer city through a window while praying that Nausica wasn’t in there. Toby stayed with him as he prayed for Greya’s safety.

He suddenly heard footsteps approaching. He turned back and saw the apprentice in the black robe who came together with Anglo walking to him.

While Anglo and the other wizards talked, this individual stayed quiet and pretended that he did not exist.

Angor wondered what this man wanted with him. Was it another person who simply wished to establish an association with him?

The robed man spoke in a deep and old voice, “It’s been such a long time, Angor…”

Angor failed to remember anyone with such a voice who might recognize him.

When the robed man saw Angor’s doubtful look, he let out a helpless chuckle and removed his hood.

Angor froze up upon seeing the old man with a really ill look. He knew that face. Yet it seemed a little bit different from what he could remember.

Age spots, hollowed cheeks, thin and wrinkled skin that barely covered his skull…

Two years ago when Angor was still with him, the old man still looked energetic. How did a level-3 apprentice end up like this in merely two years?

“Mister Mara?” Angor called with an uncertain tone.

The man in front of him was Mara, the person who introduced him to the wizarding world. Mara came from a family clan at the Old Earth as well, which was the Morn Family. The Morn Family usually had no business with Padt Family since they possessed completely different positions, both politically and geographically.

When searching for “Morning Dew”, Mara went to Padt Manor. Following his guidance, Angor managed to step onto the path of wizardry while also obtaining an “Ice Coffin of Healing” scroll, which helped to sustain Jon’s life.

For these reasons, Angor held great gratitude toward this kind old man.

He did have plans to thank Mara properly in the future, but he never expected that the reunion would come so unexpectedly.