Warlock Apprentice

Chapter 1281: Section 1282 Tiny Nightmare

Angel recounted the “dream” he had while unconscious, describing it in detail.

After he finished, he still couldn’t figure it out and asked, “Was that really a dream?”

If it was a dream, why would Sanders know about the Abyss of Corruption, and that puppet—for he had clearly seen Sanders picking up that puppet before.

Moreover, Angel felt that the experience at the time was very real and did not seem like a dream. The muddled confusion of being shackled in thought, the despair when trapped, and the discomfort from the numerous blasts of negative energy, he still vividly remembered them all.

It didn’t seem like a dream at all, but rather like his own personal experience.

“It is very similar to a dream. However, I think ‘True Illusion Space’ created by the Mysterious Object is a more accurate term than a dream,” replied Sanders.

...
True Illusion Space? Even though Sanders did not explain the meaning of True Illusion Space, Angel instantly understood. For in the Illusion Series, there was a faction called True Illusion.

True Illusion blurs the lines between reality and illusion, intertwining the two so that true and false are indistinguishable. Wizards who choose the True Illusion faction are definitely skilled at perceiving all things and grasping human hearts.

Thus, the meaning of ‘True Illusion Space’ becomes self-explanatory. A dream is necessarily illusory, while True Illusion Space is a space where one cannot tell the real from the unreal, meaning it contains both illusory and real existences.

In the experiences of last night, what was real, and what was false?

Confronted with Angel’s confusion, Sanders said indifferently, “True and false are relative, as the one who experienced it firsthand, why don’t you share your own judgment?”

Angel thought back for a moment, trying to interpret last night’s experiences: “The disorented world was false, but my thoughts were real; the scenes tempting me to fall were false, but the shadow Magic Monster was real; the Abyss of Corruption was false, but the negative energy that was present was real.”

At this point, Angel paused, looking at Sanders with an inquiring gaze.

Sanders shook his head: “It seems you didn’t grasp my meaning. You should recall, what did I mention before?”

Recall what the mentor had said? Although Angel was puzzled, since he had woken up, Sanders hadn’t spoken much, and there should be a clue upon reflection of each word.

Angel started to follow the words in his memory, trying to sort them out one by one.

Yet he found no clue, until Angel remembered something Sanders said: “Tell me about your experiences last night… the Abyss of Corruption.”

Angel abruptly lifted his head: “The Abyss of Corruption is also real?”

Sanders neither shook his head nor nodded, calmly stating, “To be precise, your experiences from yesterday were all false, only the Abyss of Corruption was real.”

“I actually don’t know what you went through last night, but only for the Abyss of Corruption, not only did I witness it with my own eyes, but I also saw your consciousness being dragged towards its dark gaping maw.”

Upon hearing this, Angel also came to an understanding: the ultimate goal of the Abyss of Corruption was to drag him inside.

That is to say, only the final goal was real, and the process was all about creating a false experience to serve this ultimate aim.

“Was I not dragged into the Abyss of Corruption because of the Mentor?” Angel suddenly recalled something, “Was it that puppet?”

“You should have guessed the identity of that puppet by now.” Sanders did not spell it out but nodded: “The negative energy released by the Abyss of Corruption wanted to assimilate you, filled with mysterious significance, and there was no other effective way to disperse it.”

“So, I calculated a bit and chose to release the resentment in the puppet to maintain a balance, which could awaken you.”

Sanders put it simply, even giving off an air of nonchalance, as if everything was not a big deal.

But Angel, as someone who went through it personally, could keenly feel the difficulty involved. Sanders’ so-called ‘calculation’ must have involved a grasp of the overall situation and precise calculations to achieve a terrible balance between the resentment from the puppet and the negative energy released from the Abyss of Corruption in an instant.

If the control was not accurate or something was missing, the resentment energy released by the Resentment Puppet would not only fail to form a terrible balance but would also affect Angel, possibly even aiding his faster descent into the Abyss of Corruption.

From this detail alone, one could understand the terror of Sanders, not only in strength but also in his judgment of the situation, his incredibly precise calculations, and his resolute execution.

If one were missing, Angel might not have escaped to see another day.

With this in mind, Angel sincerely expressed his gratitude to Sanders: “If not for the mentor, I fear I wouldn’t have seen the sunshine of today.”

Lyon, who stood by and listened to the whole process, though he did not understand the peril involved, knew that Angel’s rescue was thanks to the help of Sanders and looked at Sanders with grateful eyes.

Sanders said lightly, “I just helped you tie up a loose end; you saved yourself. If it weren’t for that moment facing the Crimson Authority when you used the mask to ward off a bit, you would have probably entered the Abyss of Corruption directly, with no struggle for survival afterward.”

After hearing that, Angel covered his right eye with his hand.

He hadn’t expected the fleeting Soul Gospel at that moment to become the decisive factor in his salvation.

His experiences in the “True Illusion Space,” at the beginning, where the green pattern blocked the darkness, could be referring to the act of activating his right eye.

However, Angel was still puzzled: why did the Soul Gospel emerge at that moment? Was it because of the Wizard’s Spiritual Sense premonition or was there actually someone else’s doing at play?

Angel couldn’t get an answer, but from a results perspective, at least things were good for now.

“It seems that the mask produced by activating my right eye with magic has some kind of non-physical defensive function,” Angel mused internally, thinking it was necessary to bring forward the plan for testing.

“Let’s not dwell on these trivial matters,” Sanders said, “After hearing your account, I’m fairly certain that the effect of the Crimson Authority is to drag people into the Abyss of Corruption. This is consistent with my earlier speculation.”

However, Angel hadn’t truly entered the Abyss of Corruption, so they still couldn’t confirm the real effect of the Crimson Authority.

What was certain, though, was that the Abyss of Corruption was filled with a tremendous amount of Negative Energy, and if one’s consciousness was dragged into it, abnormal conditions would inevitably occur.

Maybe, like Eulica, they would fall into madness.

While they were pondering, Lyon, who had been silent up till now, suddenly said, “If you mean the effect brought by that red light, I might know something about it.”

Angel and Sanders exchanged a look and then turned their attention to Lyon.

…

After a short pause, Angel tidied up his clothes slightly and left the room.

Lyon walked ahead to lead the way, with Angel and Sanders following a step behind.

Throughout the journey, Sanders seemed quite interested in the environment where Angel grew up, observing the details around him. Angel, on the other hand, looked at the familiar frescoes and corridors with a tinge of gloom in his eyes.

The murals had gathered dust, and the carpets laid out in the hallways were not only curling at the edges but some were outright missing.

In the places where the carpet was missing, one could clearly see dark stains on the granite floor—Angel, with his keen eyesight, recognized at a glance that they were marks left by blood.

From this detail alone, Angel could imagine the gruesome events that had recently taken place in the castle.

From the upper floors down, the dust never disappeared. Even in the corners of the ceiling, Angel saw cobwebs. And all throughout, there were no servants to be seen, just as Jon had said before: part of the servants had been sent to Gru Town, and the rest… may have met with misfortune.

At this thought, several figures flashed through Angel’s mind, all servants he had been very close to during his life in Pat Manor, some of whom he even considered friends and family.

Angel felt like there was a thorn stuck in his throat, unsure of how to inquire about their current situation.

“The arrangement here is quite interesting,” Sanders suddenly said, breaking through Angel’s silent despair. “The patterns beneath this mural, and the blue and white porcelain with these strange symbols, the style is very peculiar.”

Lyon: “That’s the style of old Jon’s hometown, father liked it very much, so it was incorporated into the interior decoration.”

Sanders seemed to have guessed the origin of these items. Although the Goldfinch Empire had its own unique style, it wasn’t much different from the mainstream, yet these decorations displayed a completely distinct style.

Looking at these exotic styles, Sanders couldn’t help being intrigued by the “Otherworldly Human” whom they had yet to meet.

Soon, Lyon led them through the corridor to the annex building.

When they reached the darkest doorway of the annex, they stopped.

“This seems to be…” Angel looked at the door, his memories hazily drifting back to his childhood.

He was quite mischievous as a child, always keen on doing what was forbidden, the more the adults said no, the more he was compelled to do it. And this door, strictly off-limits as decreed by old Pat, was something Angel at the time would never obey. The so-called “strict prohibition” was essentially an invitation to “must check it out.”

So, Angel sneaked in during the night when the servants weren’t paying attention.

What he found after entering was that the door actually led to a sizable basement, housing some casks that were locked up tight.

Angel found it boring and decided to leave, only to find the door had been locked from the outside.

It was a silent and endless night, and young Angel shivered under the dim wall light, terror-stricken by the pitch-black world beyond the reach of the light.

He was very afraid at the time, always imagining monsters would emerge from the darkness. This fear lasted all night long.

Looking back now, it all seemed like a nightmare.

The next day, when the door was opened, Angel discovered that it was a trap set by his father, old Pat, intended to cure his rebelliousness and habit of doing the opposite of what he was told.

Indeed, it was very effective. After that, Angel became much more cautious and careful in his actions.

However, he had never stepped foot into that basement again; it had become a little nightmare of his own.

By the time he no longer feared the basement and was all grown up, he still didn’t enter it because he was busy taking care of the ailing Jon; later on, he left the Old Earth Continent, and the basement faded from his mind.

“This is old Pat’s wine cellar, don’t you remember?” Lyon said with a bit of tease: “You were locked in here as a kid. I sat by the door and listened to you cry all night.”

Angel’s face darkened, and he said somewhat defiantly, “I didn’t cry.”

Lyon was about to tease further, but at that moment, a mournful sound came from behind the door. Lyon froze, his facial expression shifting from jest to somber, and finally he sighed, “Alright, you didn’t cry, I must have heard wrong.”

“Time to get to business, you were asking about the effect of the red light, right?” Lyon pointed to the door with a heavy lock: “Inside here lies the answer.”