Master Says the Drawn Traits Must Not Be Wasted

Chapter 164: Chapter 163: Sacrifice

”I expect to be gone for over half a month. If this still isn’t enough to satisfy your... appetite,” Hesia said, his tone complicated as he glanced at the goblins on the floor, ”then I must remind you, my friend, that it’s best to eat this ’ingredient’ sparingly. There are countless other things on the Surface World far more worth tasting. You can go explore the town for yourself later on.”

[Zor Elf Trist Solalin’s Affinity for you has increased. Decryption Points +3]

Seeing Trist staring at him without moving, Hesia gave a slight sigh and started rubbing his thumb and forefinger together.

’Does this Zor Elf not even know the basic gesture for a ”transaction”?’ he thought.

Trist looked from Hesia to the gifts on the table, then to the ”ingredients” covering the floor.

[Zor Elf... Decryption Points +2]

[Zor Elf... Decryption Points +2]

”*Cough.*” Although his Affinity kept rising, Hesia coughed lightly to remind him again.

Trist finally noticed Hesia’s fingers, which he was rubbing together so vigorously they looked like they might start a fire.

”Ah, my apologies. I just... wasn’t expecting this,” he said, quickly pulling out a Golden Shield and pressing it into Hesia’s hand. ”Thank you so much.”

...

Long after Hesia had gone, Trist finally pulled his gaze from the darkness.

The underground space fell silent once more, leaving only the sound of the bound goblins struggling.

He rose and selected the goblin that was struggling the most, dragging it alone to the center of an open area.

The goblin seemed to sense its impending doom. It writhed frantically against the coarse ropes, letting out muffled, shrill ”GUR-GAK” sounds as a foul odor filled the air.

But there wasn’t the slightest flicker of emotion in Trist’s eyes.

He was long accustomed to such scenes. Besides, it was proof that the offering possessed abundant Life Force, which might please his ”hungry” Sect Leader.

He pulled a few candles from his clothes and drew a distorted geometric figure on the ground. In the center of the figure was a strange, spiraling pattern that coiled inward.

Then, he placed a candle at each corner of the geometric figure and lit them.

The candlelight flickered, elongating his shadow.

Once he confirmed that everything was in order, he stretched out his hand, holding it over the goblin’s terrified green face. In a low, pious, ancient tone that sounded like multiple voices overlapping, he intoned:

”Master of Rifts and Dimensions, you are the embodiment of eternal hunger, the devourer in the void!”

As his voice faded, the light in the entire space dimmed as if it were being consumed by some invisible force.

The shadows cast by the flickering candlelight began to twist, and writhing tentacles sprouted from their edges.

”I offer this soul as bait and beg for a moment of your satiation!”

The goblin on the ground began to convulse violently. Its mouth gaped wide, but no sound came out. Only its eyes rolled desperately in their sockets.

Then, a translucent phantom was ”ripped” from its mortal coil as if by force.

The soul was caught by the spiraling pattern at the figure’s center. Like water swirling down a drain, it was mercilessly dragged toward an unseen ”rift.”

After completing the ritual, Trist felt a surge of potent energy flow slowly into his body through the contractual link with his Sect Leader.

The insatiable ”hunger” deep within him seemed to be temporarily suppressed, bringing a moment of tranquility.

Just as he breathed a sigh of relief, thinking it was all over...

An ancient voice, filled with undisguised disgust and rage, suddenly erupted from the depths of his throat:

”Shit!!”

”More of these crude, tasteless souls!!!”

Trist’s expression didn’t change in the slightest, as if the furious roar were nothing more than a breeze passing his ear.

He calmly walked to the table and began preparing his own dinner.

.....

On the outskirts of Rose Town, several cargo-laden carriages crept along a rugged, frost-covered road.

To one side of the convoy, the Warrior Grek sat on his horse. The high collar of his thick, studded fur coat did little to block the bone-chilling late-November wind.

He blew a heavy breath into his reddened palms, and a cloud of white mist instantly dispersed in the frigid air.

The cold forced him to periodically wiggle the fingers gripping his reins to keep them from going completely stiff.

In stark contrast to the cold outside, the carriage, covered by a thick canvas tarp, was much warmer inside.

Hesia was leaning back inside the swaying carriage, his eyes closed in a light meditation.

At his feet, Bruce lay curled in a ball, snoring softly.

Across from Hesia sat the middle-aged Priest, Hughes, the very friend Hayley had mentioned earlier.

He wore a simple priest’s robe, faded from many washings, and a pair of silver-rimmed glasses rested on the bridge of his nose. His gaze, seen through the lenses, was gentle.

He was currently wiping his lenses with a soft cloth in a slow, deliberate manner; the temperature difference between the inside and outside of the carriage had fogged them up.

Beside Hughes, Hayley was turned slightly, gazing out the window.

The afternoon sun shone softly through the glass, illuminating her slightly rounded cheeks and casting a faint halo around her short, chestnut-colored hair.

She quietly watched the foliage rushing past outside, her gaze distant as if lost in thought.

Suddenly, her smooth brow furrowed slightly.

At some point, a figure in a thick fur coat had ridden up beside the carriage window.

Grek flashed Hayley a somewhat oafish grin, then reached out and tapped on the window glass.

Hayley sighed softly, a flicker of resignation in her eyes. This was the third time he had found an excuse to knock on her window today.

She pushed the window open a crack. A blast of biting cold immediately pierced the carriage’s warmth, making her instinctively pull her robes tighter.

”Miss Hailey, this weather is brutal,” Grek said loudly over the wind, pulling a leather flask from his coat. ”Are you warm enough? How about a swig of strong stuff to drive off the chill?”

”Thank you for the offer, Mr. Grek,” Hayley’s voice was still soft, but carried an unyielding firmness, ”but I don’t need any.”

Grek’s gaze quickly swept over her full chest, and his Adam’s apple bobbed.

”Well then... why don’t you rest a bit longer in the carriage? This wind is pretty cold, sure, but it’s nothing to me. I can stay on watch longer so you don’t have to come out in it.”

”There’s no need,” Hayley said, maintaining a polite smile. ”My Physique is fine. We’ll stick to the original rotation schedule.”

The caravan had provided one carriage and two horses for the Adventurers’ use.

According to Hayley’s arrangement, she, Grek the Warrior, and Logan the Stalker would rotate guard duty, patrolling on horseback outside the carriage.

As the Mage, Hesia, along with the older Priest, Hughes, was permitted to remain inside the relative safety of the carriage.

Currently, Grek and Logan were on duty outside.

Grek hadn’t objected to the rotation, but he kept riding up to the carriage window, trying to chat with Hayley.

However, he noticed that her gaze kept drifting toward the Mage who was meditating with his eyes closed. A flare of irrational anger ignited within him.

He shot a glance at Hesia, his voice dripping with resentment. ”Some people just hide in the carriage dozing off. If we run into real danger, he’ll probably be the first one who needs protecting—a total liability!”

The sharp-featured Logan rode closer and snickered. ”Grek, you’re talking like a rookie. Aren’t all these ’noble’ Mage Apprentices the same? We’ll be lucky if he can cast a Light Technique for us. If we made him stay outside, he’d probably piss himself at the sight of a goblin, and then we’d have to scramble to save him. Wouldn’t that be even more of a pain?”

After speaking, he stared pointedly at Hesia. Seeing that he still had his eyes closed, Logan sneered. ”Tsk. He’s putting on a pretty convincing act.”

At that very moment, in the rear of their carriage, a crate of cargo was being held steady by an invisible hand. It floated half an inch off the floor, looking as if it were flying along in pursuit of the carriage.

Hesia was completely focused on controlling it, precisely adjusting the force with every jolt and sway of the carriage.

[Mage’s Hand Proficiency +1, Level 3 (0/40)]

[You have mastered the skill: Mage’s Hand Level 3]

[Wisdom +2]