Warlock Apprentice

The most recent fight kept on for three days and mercilessly did its toll on Cinder Rock. Many structures in view were completely torn down, and some of the sky bridges had snapped apart.

Even so, Angor couldn’t stop admiring the grand building when walking in it.

“Let’s wait for Sennefer at Overwatch Street,” said Madelyne.

Overwatch Street used to be a place for relaxation with many food stalls and pubs. But right now, it was mostly abandoned.

“There were thousands of Butchers here, taking our food and drink away,” a wounded apprentice spoke to Madelyne while resting on a stump. “The walls of the houses are like paper when faced against their knives.”

“Butchers…” Angor frowned upon hearing this name. “Are they those fat creatures who use their ears to fly around?”

Madelyne nodded. “A typical monster dwelling in the Abyss. Don’t let their appearance fool you, for they have nothing to do with humans. They’re usually good at cooking and brewing, so many demons keep them as their personal chef.”

Angor thought about the giant frypan being carried by the Butcher that attacked him earlier.

“Well, we’re not going to find a place to rest at this rate.” Madelyne looked disappointed. “Let’s use my magic hut again.”

She found somewhere flat and skillfully brought out a temporary two-room house made of magic.

“Rest while you can. Sennefer will come and summon us soon.”

Angor nodded and entered one of the rooms to meditate. Doing meditation was difficult here, but it was better than sitting still. Everyone who stayed in the Abyss Plane must know how to fully use their available time to prepare for the next battle, which might keep them busy for months on end.

Luckily, Angor did not use up too much of his mana. Several hours were enough for him to fully recover.

He opened his eyes and saw Toby just returning to him with a very satisfied look.

“What, found yourself a wife out there?”

Toby rolled his eyes and dropped a pile of messy objects on the floor.

“Huh? You went to scavenge around all the corpses?”

Toby nodded. Even though most people tried to make use of their prey as much as they could, they could not completely check through every corpse for resources. A good number of dead monsters were left at the bottom of the stone pillar.

Angor never cared too much about looting the monsters because these lackeys didn’t seem like anything worth searching anyway. As for better monsters who might be holding something of value… The wizards made sure they were rinsed clean.

“Did you find anything good? I’ll trade you some dried fish.” Angor grinned.

Toby glared at Angor—You still owe me a lot of snacks, remember?

“Fine. Once we’re out of here, I’ll help you sell all the odds and maybe give you your very own money bank.”

Toby almost fainted with excitement—if he could gather money, he could buy as much fish as he liked!

When Toby went off to fantasize about his fishful life ahead, Angor moved to check another important matter.

Could he reach the dream wasteland from here?

He always wanted to do the test but did not have time for it until now.

A bit excited, he cast Dream Enkindle on himself.

He immediately knew something was wrong when he felt great drowsiness taking over instead of grasping the dreamland powers he acquired before. Also, the “map” of the dream wasteland did not show up in his mind.

He fell asleep and was haunted by a bad dream.

He was still inside Cinder Rock. But the great structure had been fully burned to the ground by attacking demons, while there was not a single human comrade in sight.

A giant black hole appeared in the sky, from where burning meteorites rained down and destroyed what remained in the establishment.

High towers buckled, the ground cracked. A giant statue lost its head, which fell in front of Angor and stared at him with its hollow eyes.

Cinder Rock was no more.

Angor woke up from the nightmare in which he observed the final scenes of the great settlement.

“Weird…”

The dream reminded him of something Freud told him before, which was a “precognitive dream”. Could it be that he saw what would become of Cinder Rock in due time?

“Gods. I should forget it. The important thing is, I can’t enter the dream wasteland. So, is the ‘connection’ only available in the wizarding world?”

He somewhat expected such an outcome, which was acceptable. Otherwise, the dream wasteland would be seen as a terrifyingly useful tool that allowed people in the Abyss and in the wizarding world to freely talk to each other. Should anyone hear about this, the guards of Moonfrost Union would probably come and unconditionally arrest him.

“But if I use the Dream Whelk on an item here, where will it go?”

He considered and decided not to do such a test for now. While it was true that the whelk was useless in the view of others, he did not want too many people to see it. It would be so sad if a wizard actually wanted to “buy” it from him.

He would wait until he reunited with Sunders.

Next, he took out the Church Of The Deceased to check on Torras. Since the “connection” to the dream wasteland was cut off, he suspected that Torras was forcefully pulled out of the dream wasteland as well.

As expected, he saw Torras casually reading a book on a bed without the ox-horn helmet on. Torras’ face of a delicate teenager truly did not go well with his muscles and hairy chest.

Angor wasn’t being stealthy when sending his spirit inside the small church, so Torras easily noticed him coming. “Oi, Mister Padt. Can yer at least knock first the next time you visit? I don’t want people to see my face. Seriously.”

“When did you leave the Foundation City?” asked Angor.

Torras looked displeased. “I didn’t mean to leave. The other day, a lad who calls himself the ‘Grand Knight’ or something wanted a duel, so I wanted to teach him a lesson. Then I found myself back into my old room for some reason.

“Goddammit. Now he’s going to run all around the city and tell people what a big coward I am. The nerves! Mister Padt, you gotta send me back so that I can right the wrong!”

Angor shook his head. “Forget it. You’re not returning any time soon.”

“Say whaaat? But I’m the sheriff! The city can’t live without me! At least let me settle that fight and leave a good name for myself, will you?”

“Sorry, but the server’s down right now.”

Angor ignored Torras’ protests and dropped another pile of books on the man’s bed. He did hope that Torras read more books and stopped believing in the fictional story told in Dancing on Devil’s Tides. The new books were all about famous pirates and seafarers from old times, either genuine or made-up. Maybe Torras could learn something from them.

After making sure Torras’ soul did not suffer any damage, Angor put the small church away and noted his new findings in his notebook.

At least being unexpectedly repelled from the dream wasteland wasn’t harmful, which was good to know.