Warlock Apprentice

”The alchemical exchange event ten years ago—if not for your insistent demands to obtain the sacrifice from Sterling, how could I have traded away the demonic materials I had treasured for a century? You—you’re despicable!”

”Your decision forced my sister to join the Execution Assembly. After countless frontline executions, she now relies on Demon Flower Sprite Demon Bloodstone just to avoid falling into madness. Do you even know that? It’s all your fault!”

”Back then, you knew very well Bogura was present but still sent me to that crossroad. Because of you, my dearest magic puppet Elsa was stolen by Bogura! You said it was just a puppet! But the golden hair and emerald eyes of that puppet belonged to my long-lost love!”

”You are the root of all evil!”

”It’s all because of you! Because of you!”

Hailey’s ears were flooded with relentless echoes of ”because of you.” Had it been anyone else, she might have dismissed it. But these shadowy figures around her—all of them—were her colleagues, senior Wizards of the Profound Alchemy Association.

Moreover, each accusation was based on actual events. It was precisely this truth that intensified Hailey’s rage and disbelief!

Why do these illusions know about these things? And why do they remember them so vividly, when no complaints were raised at the time? Is this the genuine resentment they harbor towards her deep within their hearts?

Her barely suppressed emotions began to unravel amidst this relentless, curse-like bombardment. Suddenly, it cracked wide open.

In the turmoil of Hailey’s chaotic thoughts, unsure and disoriented, those pitch-black figures abruptly halted their chanting. Their crimson eyes curved into crescent shapes, filled with a twisted glee of ”scheme accomplished”; their mouths grinned, splitting apart until nearly a third of their heads became gaping maws.

In the next moment, these figures started to elongate and deform, as if getting sucked into something...

And the source of the pull was Hailey’s brow.

These shadowy figures transformed into a bizarre black ribbon, pouring incessantly into Hailey’s brow. As the blackness entered her, the earlier cacophony resumed. Whispers, curses, veiled accusations, muttered incantations—all surrounded Hailey, threatening to drive her insane.

As Hailey’s heart wavered, the dignity, confidence, and ideals she had built up—facades constructed over years of exertion—seemed to crumble like a precarious mirage, fading further and further away until they vanished entirely.

Only then did Hailey realize: These were not mere illusions but traps designed to dismantle her defenses—poisonous emotional taunts filled with venomous curses.

Hailey bent forward, trembling uncontrollably.

Her mind was a wreck, frantic and desperate. In her desperation, she did the only thing she could—chant the name of the Deep One. Perhaps she sought solace, a shred of power from her faith.

Ultimately, Hailey was a favored devotee of the Deep One, and her invocation received a response—an echo of Divine Thought from the deity itself. Yet, confronted with Hailey’s crumbling self-assurance, the Deep One merely sighed softly.

Then he spoke, his voice light and indifferent: ”If the sacrificial offering cannot be obtained this time, the usual will suffice.”

After speaking, the Deep One offered Hailey no further replies.

Upon hearing this response, Hailey broke down instantly.

Had the Deep One urged Hailey to persist and capture Toby at all costs, she might have held firm a little longer despite her destabilized mental defenses. But the Deep One had uttered... ”Forget it”?

”Forget it”? This meant all of Hailey’s previous efforts had been in vain.

The lives lost, the humiliation endured, her unwavering commitment—none of it mattered? How could Hailey not fall apart?

Perhaps the Deep One’s words stemmed from a rare moment of merciful intent, hoping Hailey might avoid a disastrous end. Yet her thoughts and feelings were long entrapped in the stubborn loops of obsession. Like a frog at the bottom of a well, her view was confined to the narrow circle of sky above; she remained blind to the compassionate motives concealed in the unseen expanse beyond the rim.

Hailey raised her head and let forth a piercing, anguished scream filled with defiance and despair.

The sound shattered the eerie realm enveloped by crimson light, even reaching Angel and the others in the distance.

Greya’s face was marked by shock and confusion. ”What did Toby do to make Hailey scream in such agony?”

Unable to contain her curiosity, Greya turned to Angel, hoping for an explanation. But Angel appeared to be engaged in a hushed conversation with Sanders, seemingly discussing the nature of the crimson-lit world.

”It indeed possesses qualities akin to illusions, but there are no Illusion Nodes,” Angel murmured in doubt.

”You should know,” Sanders replied coolly, ”Illusion Nodes are mere mediums for Wizards to construct their illusion techniques. Not all illusions necessarily rely on Illusion Nodes as foundations.”

Angel understood this well—optical distortions, anomalies, and extensions of various abilities could all generate illusions. For instance, Greya’s culinary creations could spawn illusions through their extended resonances.

”The crown-like fleshy lump likely replaces the Illusion Node, functioning as the medium for projecting illusions,” Angel reasoned. ”But then, what exactly is the significance of this illusion?”

Angel refused to believe the illusion was meaningless. Toby’s transformed Snake Bird form drew attention for two reasons: its sheer size and the fleshy crown atop its triangular head.

Such a conspicuous feature, given the typical anatomy of a Magical Creature, surely held a distinctive purpose.

In Angel’s eyes, this fleshy crown was likely central to the Snake Bird’s primary abilities. As such, it couldn’t be entirely devoid of purpose.

Yet after prolonged observation, Angel still couldn’t detect any discernable meaning in the illusion.

What puzzled him slightly was this: ”It seems to lack the aggressive qualities typical of most illusionary realms, yet it’s not quite a peaceable illusion—it contains an additional element.”

What exactly made it different? Angel felt a peculiar familiarity, as though...

”The illusion incorporates emotional manipulation?” Angel murmured faintly. Since he could intertwine emotions into his own illusions, the sensation felt familiar. Yet in this crimson-lit world, the emotional manipulation appeared more advanced, inducing even Angel a sense of disorientation.

These emotions seemed disconnected from Toby himself. Instead, they appeared to draw upon and concentrate feelings from others.

Angel had already discerned that these emotions varied widely in intensity—something no single individual could express in such a short span.

Turning to Sanders for insight, Angel’s gaze met Sanders’ eyes, which mirrored his own—a luminous gleam of intellectual curiosity.

After a long stretch of silence, Sanders finally spoke: ”The illusion itself is unremarkable, but its underlying significance is intriguing... It belongs to a highly specialized category of illusions. If we must compare it to established types, it likely shares connections with Heart Illusions. Yet, it remains distinct, for its essence lies in negative emotions—emotions stemming from multiple sources.”

Angel could only speculate, while Sanders delivered a definitive conclusion.