Warlock Apprentice

Chapter 1036: Section 1037: Return to the Land of Rest

Angel’s response was a cold glance from Fafnir.

At the same time, an unwarranted gust of wind chafed his cheeks.

Angel sighed inwardly, he wasn’t saying that Fafnir couldn’t follow him, in fact, he very much hoped she would accompany him, given that Fafnir’s combat power was evident. With Fafnir’s menacing strength, common riffraff wouldn’t dare to provoke them.

Yet, Fafnir seemed to have no intention of accompanying him, merely following at a distance. Even if Angel encountered danger, she would only watch coldly from afar.

Angel was somewhat baffled by what Fafnir truly meant.

Did she want to see how an ant struggled to survive in the Abyss? Or perhaps, was she planning to write a “Human Observation Diary”?

No matter how much he grumbled inwardly, he received no answers. Angel could only shake his head and continue to walk forward, if Fafnir was going to follow, then let her follow. After all, she wasn’t about to kill him now, was she?

As Angel flew toward the gate that led across layers, Fafnir hesitated for a moment but eventually followed.

Fafnir followed Angel solely because she wanted to know why Odeclass had assigned such a task to a human Apprentice and even given him the Flame Mark.

Moreover, Fafnir was acutely aware that if she wanted to meet Odeclass, he certainly wouldn’t want to see her. But if Angel could complete Odeclass’s task and earn his friendship, then might that encourage Odeclass to meet with her?

It was with such a hope that Fafnir decided to follow and see what would happen.

After all, she had nothing else pressing at the moment.

Amidst the misty canyons, Angel stood before a massive gate about twenty meters tall.

The elusive, dark gate emerging through the clouds bore a mysterious and majestic presence that overwhelmed him.

This was his second visit to this gate between layers. Looking at the portal adorned with carvings of various magical creatures, Angel still felt astonished, especially when he glanced over the patterns of the Abyssal Dragon and sneakily looked back at Fafnir. Although the color was different, the form was extremely similar to Fafnir’s true body.

Fafnir, on the other hand, appeared indifferent, her gaze lingering only on the single eye enshrouded in black mist at the top of the gate.

Through this eye, she seemed to see a Demon God from ancient times, lifting its massive head and silently meeting her gaze.

“Another old geezer who refuses to die,” Fafnir cursed inwardly.

Angel prepared to cross the threshold of the gate, but he found he had overestimated himself… He couldn’t push the door open.

The gate between layers had a particular mechanism: in order to open it, one had to possess the strength required to survive behind it. The other side of this door led to the third level of the Abyss, and with Angel’s strength, venturing there was akin to seeking death, hence he naturally couldn’t open the gate.

After a few embarrassing minutes standing in front of the tightly closed door, Angel dejectedly walked towards Fafnir.

Fafnir snorted coldly. In fact, there was another way to the third level of the Abyss that didn’t have a strength-testing gate. The path she had previously taken with Angel to Ice Valley was that very route.

What she hadn’t expected was that Angel, intending to go to the third level, would choose this gate between layers.

That was his just deserts.

“Respected Lady Fafnir, I wonder if you could help a lowly human with a small favor?” Angel asked with a sheepish smile, approaching Fafnir’s side.

Fafnir simply stared at Angel steadily, her eyes filled with deep mockery.

For a moment, they said nothing to each other.

Just when Angel thought Fafnir wouldn’t help and that he’d have to find another route, Fafnir suddenly stepped forward, stretched out her hand in front of the gate, and gently pushed.

The tightly closed gate was instantly flung open.

“Human, save your disgusting expression. I am not aiding you; I am going to the third level as well,” Fafnir turned back, and said coldly to a grateful Angel.

Fafnir’s sharp tongue was not new; ever since meeting her, her sense of superiority had never left the clouds. So Angel didn’t mind the disgust in her tone, letting her be scornful as he offered his thanks.

After expressing his gratitude, Angel quickly dashed through the gate before it could close again.

Behind the door lay a vast snowy plain on the third level of the Abyss.

Angel remembered the route Sinafa had taken last time, flying towards the direction of Neya’s Winter Palace. Without accident, Fafnir followed close behind.

As he passed Neya’s Winter Palace, he didn’t enter but chose a direction and continued flying forward.

He was bound for the Silent Coast.

The task given to him by Odeclass was to obtain the Fire Transmission Stone and, moreover, he had been pointed down a specific path to seek out a certain Half-Blood Demon in Demon City Lassudral.

Although it seemed like that was the only available route for now, it didn’t mean he had to stick to it.

He planned to head to the Land of Repose to find Baltica.

He remembered that Baltica was a trade merchant; perhaps there might be something to gain from her.

Fafnir, trailing behind Angel, initially contemplated which route Angel would choose to take to Demon City, but as Angel made progress on his journey, her brow slowly furrowed.

The route chosen made Fafnir also feel puzzled, as it leads towards the direction of the Silent Sea of Death.

What was he doing going to the Silent Sea of Death? Could it be, he planned to ask the Pilgrim of Misfortune to help his bird lift the calamity?

Fafnir was baffled until Angel stopped in front of a stone tablet, then her confusion began to slowly dissipate.

There was an inscription on the stone tablet: Undead Legion, Land of Repose.

When Angel saw this tablet, he became somewhat apprehensive. Although he knew Baltica was a merchant, he was also aware of how much Baltica detested humans.

He did not know if he could safely leave after entering the Land of Repose.

Moreover, without the Soul-Resurrection Sand, he did not know if Baltica would be willing to trade with him.

He could only try.

Angel took a deep breath and stepped over the stone tablet.

In an instant, day turned to night. The dull daylight of the outside world scattered like the wind, turning into a pitch-dark and silent night.

Once again meeting the night, the changes in Angel’s heart were completely opposite to the last time.

Sanders once said, the sea here is not the sea of today; the night here also is not the night of now. They have both been suspended in time, frozen on the eve before the gods fell.

Looking up into the sky, there was neither stars nor clouds.

Though it was merely a common night, because it was the longest night of the old world, it carried the heaviness of history.

A series of footsteps came from beside him, it was Fafnir.

“I didn’t expect you to seek out this conniving merchant,” Fafnir’s scoffing voice rose next to Angel’s ear, “I advise you to leave; what she wants is not something you can afford.”

Angel: “I just want to give it a try.”

Having entered the Land of Repose, Angel naturally had no intention of retreating. Whether it was successful or not, he wanted to try.

Angel walked towards a nearby graveyard, which was still eerily quiet, with occasional wisps of phosphorescence drifting by.

Although it seemed desolate, Angel knew that beneath this land, many bones of the Undead Legion lay in slumber.

He walked lightly, as if through this method, he didn’t want to disturb the dormant skeletons.

As he turned along a quiet path, Angel saw a small bar that opened deep in the graveyard. The solitary light, the occasionally wind-lifted fabric surrounding it, and the delicate silhouette of a woman in the bar.

Almost identical to the scene before, except that this time, there were two figures at the entrance to the bar.

Only when Angel approached did he realize that one of the figures at the door was a Tomb Knight and the other was a person wearing a bow tie and a form-fitting suit.

To call him “person” was merely Angel’s first impression. When he saw the twirling pattern and fierce horns on the man’s forehead, he knew he had been mistaken; he was not a human, but a Half-Blood Demon.

Yet his attire made it hard for Angel to believe that this was how a Half-Blood Demon would dress.

It was more befitting of a butler managing an entire nobility estate.

“Stian, the store owner does not want to see you. Please leave,” the Tomb Knight’s droning voice came from inside his helmet.

The Half-Blood Demon, addressed as Stian, first glanced at Angel with his eyes, his gaze lingering momentarily on the Flame Mark on Angel’s earlobe and Angel’s pitch-black eyes, then turned to look at the Tomb Knight.

He flashed an elegant smile: “Knight, my surname is Stian Trofehr, and Stian is merely the least significant part of my surname. You may address me by my full name, or simply Trofehr will also do. Moreover, I simply wish to persuade the charming Lady Baltica with my sincerity.”

A scornful laugh came from the Tomb Knight’s visor: “Stian is the surname given to you by your mother, Trofehr is the ignoble title bestowed by the Sheep Demon, and yet you dismiss your mother’s tribal name with contempt. You truly are a disgusting hybrid.”

Stian maintained his delicate and elegant smile without any change in expression due to the Tomb Knight’s insults. The curve of his lips, the frequency of his blinking, even the control of his facial muscles, seemed as though they had been precisely calculated.

“While it’s true that I am a mix of the Neya Tribe and Demon,” Stian implied, “if I recall correctly, isn’t the Undead Legion also comprised of Half-Blood Demons?” In other words, we are the same, you and I. By calling me a hybrid, you are hardly any different.

The Tomb Knight scoffed coldly: “At least, I won’t become a pawn of Demons.”

After finishing his statement, the Tomb Knight no longer paid attention to Stian. This troublesome fellow, chased away time and again only to return, clearly set on lingering here, hoping Lady Baltica would agree to see him.

Moreover, what Stian hoped for from Baltica, was not for his own cause, but on behalf of the Sheep Demon who had granted him the ignoble title “Trofehr.”

The Sheep Demon, too afraid to come himself, sent Stian in his place.

As for the Neya Tribe, they had old ties with Baltica. Even if she was reluctant to trade with Stian, the connection with the Neya Tribe stopped her from forcibly sending him away.

The Tomb Knight ignored Stian, letting him stand elegantly at the bar’s door like a doorman.

He then turned his head to look at Angel.

Even though Angel had deliberately altered his eye traits, the Tomb Knight still recognized his face. If it had been someone else, they would likely have been driven out by now, but Angel… demanded a different consideration.