Warlock Apprentice

An experienced elder like Iron Granny approached problems in this world with a completely different perspective, and it helped Angor see something he normally could not see.

“That answered your biggest question, didn’t it?” said Iron Granny. “However, it’s still not easy to reach Dumartin’s place even if you want to.”

Angor heard from Dave that Dumartin constantly stayed in a laboratory inside The Tributary, but he didn’t know the exact location.

“But… I can’t just wait for Balba to be delivered to me. After getting that bloodline, he’s as good as dead.”

“Dumartin might be willing to talk to you since you’re a promising alchemist as well as Sunders’ student, but you can’t get to his lab as it is because he always puts countless deadly traps there. The best approach is to send him a message and wait for him to invite you inside. Yet… that man tends to ignore his messages when he’s doing his research, which might take an entire year.” Iron Granny held her chin. “Let me see… Since I don’t have any other guests coming right now, I can send you there.”

Even if Dumartin did not wish to talk to Angor, he wouldn’t do anything harsh when Iron Granny was around.

However, Angor wasn’t sure if he should accept the help.

“If you want to repay my favor, just find some time and visit me more in the future so that I won’t get too bored. Or you can send Toby. I miss the little guy,” said Iron Granny as she sipped more tea.

Angor thanked her and took out a Monument Loop from his bracelet.

This was supposed to be Toby’s new toy, but Angor never found a chance to give it to Toby because the bird had been spending most of his time hanging out with the Moonlily Fairy.

Angor decided to give it to Iron Granny as a present.

“Oh, this…” Iron Granny widened her eyes a little when she saw the appealing shape.

“This is Monument Loop, a… small curio. I made it. Hope you like it, ma’am.”

“For me?” Iron Granny inspected the item in her hand. “Perhaps this is the rumored ‘alchemy illusion’ that everyone has been talking about?”

“It is an alchemy illusion, but this one is for passing time. There’s nothing special in it.”

“Oh, so you think I’m a lonely granny in her house who needs these things to survive?” Iron Granny faked a stern face.

Angor quickly waved his hands. “That’s not it. It’s just a decoration, like a music box.”

Iron Granny chuckled. “I’ll take it then. I must say, I’m as curious as the rest of the people about the illusions that you produced.”

Angor saw her putting the item away and sighed in relief. He knew Iron Granny wasn’t “scolding” him for real, but he still felt a bit stressful nevertheless.

While the Iron Fortress headed to Dumartin’s laboratory under Iron Granny’s command, she took the chance to ask several questions regarding Angor’s Monument Loop.

From Angor’s explanations, she learned that the item contained a game called the Monument Valley. Also, it seemed that Sunders loved this game for some reason. Angor didn’t mean to tell her about this—his tongue slipped.

Compared to the game, Iron Granny was more interested in the “loop” itself. The paradox-like design gave her a strange feeling that she might be able to create a new spell out of it.

She didn’t have time to explore the illusion because the Iron Fortress had already arrived at their destination—an entrance between mountains that seemed to be covered behind a blood-red fog.

“We’re here, Dumartin’s ethereal laboratory,” Iron Granny said and took Angor out of the iron house.

As soon as they stepped out of the door, Angor smelled the stink of blood in the air.

The trees around them were already tainted in red. However, instead of withering in the polluted air, they were growing bigger than normal.

Across the red fog, Angor managed to see the faint silhouettes of several buildings.

“Dumartin has an obsession with cutting things up. People said that he loves dissecting brains, right? That part is true. But instead of using human brains, he prefers doing research on animal brains or those extracted from otherworldly creatures. ‘Human bodies aren’t worth my attention’ or so he said.”

“That sounds like…”

“Like something the Karabits would do, right?”

Angor nodded. As commonly known, Karabits were natural scientists who loved biological experiments.

“Dumartin is not a Karabit,” Iron Granny continued, “he is a pure homo sapien, like you and me.”

She stopped moving. She then lifted a hand and unleashed a light spot into the blood fog.

The fog split and revealed a path. At the same time, a man’s voice reached their ears.

“Come on in, Granny. Do forgive me, but I’m in the middle of an important process, so I can’t go there and welcome you personally.”

Iron Granny nodded to Angor. “Let’s go. The fog is the deadliest trap around here. Careful not to touch it.”

Iron Granny stepped onto the path, and Angor quickly followed her. As they walked, the fog barrier slowly closed up behind them.

The path wasn’t long. However, the walk wasn’t easy as Angor sensed a terrible sensation that was assaulting his skin. Also, he could hear creatures that were hidden behind the fog. He could also feel their hot breaths.

When they reached what seemed to be Dumartin’s lab, the path behind had completely closed off. Once again, the red fog had covered up everything.

The lab door wasn’t locked. Iron Granny pushed it open and walked inside.

The “default” setup for the ground floor of an ethereal laboratory should be an empty hall without any research equipment. But here, Dumartin placed a lot of cultivation chambers all over the place.

A round desk and several simple bar stools were scattered in the middle of the hall, and on top of the desk was a steaming teapot. Apparently, Dumartin left them here for his guests.

“Let’s wait for him,” Iron Granny said as she sat down on a stool.

Angor, however, wasn’t in the mood to enjoy tea. His attention was on an individual who was sealed inside a cultivation chamber nearby.

COMMENT

Inside the pale yellow nutrient liquid, a naked man rested peacefully as if he had just accepted a painless death. The man had extraordinary muscles, which should have made him look amazing, if not for a good number of suture scars, which suggested that someone had “opened him up” not long ago.

“Oh? Is that who you are looking for?” Iron Granny left her stool and joined Angor.

“Yes.” Angor nodded slightly. “He is Balba.”

Iron Granny’s eyes glowed as she inspected Balba’s form. “I see… Yes, he has the blood of an alien species. But that soul… His soul is extremely pure, like untainted snow. How could someone like him be a spy?”

“You know he’s not a spy, ma’am?”

“I’m certain of it. Those who plot against the wizarding world usually use pure-blood humans as moles. A half-blood like this one is not fit to be a competent spy.”

“So… Balba is not a ‘criminal’.”

Iron Granny looked away. “The only crime for him is that he cannot choose how he was born. This is unavoidable, and it is not a severe offense. However… it is enough to be the reason that dragged him into his misery.”

Angor sighed in his mind. Unavoidable fates…

The world’s consciousness of this world did not think or judge. It solely allowed things that provided benefit to this world while expelling those harmful to this world. This was also the exact belief of the Supreme Cult—even if they had to kill countless innocent people, they would consider it “beneficial” if they could find a single “true target” during their mad hunt, and those sacrificed were nothing compared to the general good.

Angor grimaced as he looked at Balba’s stitches. “Am I too late?”

“Not really,” said Iron Granny, “the bloodline of Bomb Shroom is already planted inside him. But his mind…” She checked Balba’s brain, which was the only part free of stitches. “His mind is still unharmed.”

“But… he won’t get far with that dangerous bloodline in him.” Angor shook his head. “I’m glad he’s alive though. That means this isn’t the end yet.”

They heard footsteps behind them.

Angor turned around and saw a tall and slim shadow emerging from the depth of a hallway.

“Good evening, Granny,” the man bowed slightly to Iron Granny. His bright voice, as well as his refined posture, suggested that he was quite a man of good manners.

“Well, hello, Dumartin. Am I interrupting something?”

Angor looked at Dumartin and realized that the actual image of this man was way different from his presumptions. As far as he could see, Dumartin was a scholarly gentleman wearing a pair of gold-rimmed glasses who probably loved knowledge rather than violence.

But that impression didn’t last long.

After greeting Iron Granny, Dumartin glanced at Angor and showed a hearty grin.

“Did you bring more fertilizer for me to get rid of, Granny?”