Chapter 1042 The Phantom Imp <TOC> Chapter 1044 The Wronged Prapa
Translator: SumTLMan
Actually, the curator’s name was quite lengthy. Prapa had once heard him mention it, but for some reason, he seemed to prefer being referred to as “Night,” rather than his true name that embodied the accomplishments of his ancestors.
Having delegated the day’s work to Prapa, the curator departed.
Guests seldom visited the Hunting Museum, thus even if the curator were to leave for an extended period, it wouldn’t disturb anything. After all, it wasn’t like there were businesses to tend to.
In the absence of patrons, Prapa was a little curious as to how the curator managed to sustain himself. Yet, having not been in La Sutherland for very long, perhaps the curator had other means of livelihood.
Guided by the curator’s instructions, Prapa traversed the vast main hall and made his way to the exhibit room.
The exhibit room was adorned with various hunting trophies, though these were basically hollow shells. They appeared lively at first glance, but beyond their skin and skeleton, they were void of substance.
Prapa journeyed past the specimens, towards the rear of the exhibit room where a towering wall stood.
The upper half of the wall was adorned with a painting. The lower half, however, was fitted with a door.
Behind this door lay the area where Prapa labored daily.
Upon entering the door, Prapa began the task of cleaning today’s catch brought in by the curator — two flame leopards. As was customary, Prapa extracted the flesh and viscera of the flame leopards, moistening them briefly with the “Ethereal Water” to preserve them for an extended period.
Subsequently, Prapa embarked on the process of cleaning the fur and assembling the skeleton.
During the fur cleaning process, Prapa meticulously inspected the flame-patterned pelt, ensuring that there was not a single wound tarnishing its breathtaking beauty.
While the Flame Leopard may not be a particularly formidable beast, it was still within Prapa’s hunting abilities. However, preserving its intact fur during the hunt was a considerable challenge.
Rumors suggested that the master of the manor was quite weak, and this notion was supported by the nature of his prey.
Nevertheless, Prapa had a lingering sense that the manor’s master was in fact very powerful. Throughout his three-month stay here, Prapa had never seen a more dangerous beast, yet every creature the master hunted was without a trace of injury. Just like this Flame Leopard, each one was flawlessly preserved as if simply asleep.
Given this attention to detail, Prapa did not believe the perfection-seeking master to be lacking in strength.
Perhaps the master also hunted high-level beasts, but simply didn’t require Prapa’s cleaning services for these?
Once Prapa had finished cleaning these two Flame Leopards, he placed their specimens in the display room, concluding his work for the day.
Usually, Prapa would seize any free time to temper his body after completing his tasks. Although the cultivation methods from his bloodline inheritance might not be effective, he could only make do with them until he found an alternative.
However, today Prapa didn’t return to his tempering. Instead, he began to study the painting in the display room.
Truth be told, Prapa didn’t find the painting particularly extraordinary, but he noticed the master often admiring it. Thinking that it might hold a secret, Prapa decided to scrutinize it more closely today.
Standing before the painting for half an hour, Prapa gained no insight.
By his aesthetic judgment, the painting was wholly unfathomable.
The overarching backdrop was black… or to put it another way, a blue so deep it seemed black. Amidst this profound backdrop, streaks of vivid flame danced. The flames, of varying sizes, linked together into a single line, dividing the painting into two halves.
“What could the meaning of this painting possibly be?” Prapa silently pondered.
After approximately half an hour of scrutiny, Prapa’s eyes had reddened considerably, yet he was unable to discern any hidden mysteries within the painting. Instead, a small detail that had previously escaped his notice caught his attention. On the lower right corner of the painting, he could barely make out some faint, grey writing that had almost melded with the dark backdrop.
The scribed line appeared to be the artist’s signature. However, Prapa couldn’t make heads or tails of the text — it was no demonic script that he recognized.
The serpentine glyphs, similar in appearance to tadpoles, vaguely reminded him of… human writing.
It was much later that Prapa came to realize that it was indeed the human script. The painting bore the title and the name of its creator inscribed in the humans’ language.
—Night—, by artist Feng.
Prapa never managed to decipher the painting’s significance, but he did notice something else — the return of the master of the pavilion.
Not only had the master returned, but he carried a black beast’s leg over his shoulder. The leg was as large as a flame leopard, indicating that the creature it belonged to was truly gigantic!
“Eh, you haven’t started your cultivation today?” asked Night, looking at Prapa.
Prapa’s eyes remained glued to the beast’s leg, still ablaze with black flames. It appeared somewhat familiar. “Continual cultivation yielded no results. I thought about going out later to see if I can find something more suitable for my training.”
“I see.” Night didn’t add anything further but produced two shimmering gold coins from his pocket and tossed them to Prapa. “I’ll give you your salary for this month in advance. I hope you find what you need.”
Prapa’s eyes sparkled with gratitude. With these two demon gold coins, he now possessed a total of ten. To him, this was a significant fortune. His parents’ legacy had amounted to only two demon gold coins.
“Thank you, master,” Prapa responded with heartfelt thanks. Seeing Night heading toward the small house behind the display room, presumably to clean the beast’s leg, he quickly added, “Master, if it’s about cleaning, I can do it.”
Night shook his head decisively, “No need. Although it’s left with only one leg, the flame on it is unquenchable. It runs contrary to your element; you’ll only end up injured if you attempt to deal with it.”
With these words, Night entered the clean-up chamber and closed the massive door behind him.
Prapa, on the other hand, contemplated the phrase “undying flame” in his mind before departing the Hunting Museum. As he ambled down the road for a considerable length of time, a spark of understanding seemed to flicker in his mind. He thought of the black undying flame and the hind leg resembling a horse hoof.
That reminded him of a certain demon creature.
The Dark Gold Nightmare!
Could it be… was that the hind leg of a Dark Gold Nightmare?
The more Prapa thought about it, the more convinced he became. Even though he was quite a distance away earlier, he could faintly detect an imposing aura emanating from the black beast leg.
If it indeed belonged to a Dark Gold Nightmare, would the creature be something that the curator himself had hunted down?
Prapa felt a sudden rush of excitement. The Dark Gold Nightmare was a creature on par with a mid-level demon, and some of the more powerful ones could even rival greater demons. If such a formidable creature was hunted down by the curator… didn’t it imply that his previous guess was correct, that the curator indeed possessed immense strength, only concealed in ordinary times?
With the curator being so formidable, could he possibly teach Prapa how to enhance his power?
A crestfallen Prapa shook his head. Even if the curator was extraordinarily powerful, his elemental nature was fire, which contradicted Prapa’s. There wouldn’t be much he could teach him.
He decided to continue his exploration in La Sutherland, checking if any shops there could provide him with assistance.
After spending a good part of the day browsing, Prapa realized he had been too naive.
Although the purchasing power of ten demon gold coins was not insignificant, the chances of acquiring something that could enhance his power, be it a method of cultivation or a unique treasure, were slim.
These weren’t merely what Prapa urgently required, they were the covetous desires of any demon, any half-demon.
As such, the prices for these were steep, with each starting no less than fifty demon gold coins.
It seemed, the prospect for it to possess the power of retribution, lay years in the future.
With a heavy atmosphere surrounding it, Prapa prepared to return to the Hunting Museum. At least in La Sutherland, the curator had been kind to it. Provided it was willing to strive, fifty demon gold coins shouldn’t take long to accumulate.
Midway back to the Hunting Museum, Prapa caught sight of a small cabin out of the corner of its eye.
As it looked back, it found itself once again on the fringes of La Sutherland, with the cabin it had spotted earlier, called ‘Phantasmagoria’, nestled not far off among the trees.
Prapa shook its head, preparing to press on.
But just then, it realized that below the sign reading ‘Phantasmagoria’, there was another line of text.
Most importantly, the text was not unfamiliar to it, in fact, it felt an odd sense of nostalgia.
Abyssian! To think it would encounter Abyssian here?!
Abyssian was a universal language among the native settlements of the Abyss, and its mother was a native of the Nodin tribe. From its youth, Prapa had not only learned the Demonic Language of its father’s lineage, but also became proficient in Abyssian, taught to it by its mother.
So when it saw Abyssian among all the signs written in Demonic and even Old Demonic Language in La Sutherland, a wave of familiarity washed over it immediately.
Guided by this sense of familiarity, Prapa subconsciously drifted towards the ‘Phantasmagoria’ cabin.
Crossing a small path shaded by greenery, though only a few trees stood in between, Prapa felt the air here was significantly more pleasant. The oppressive feeling that had dogged it ever since it arrived in La Sutherland eased somewhat.
The resplendent radiance of the undying light source pierces through the veil of verdant foliage, casting a mosaic of sunlight and shadows on the stone-strewn pathway beneath.
Upon reaching the entrance to the wooden cabin, Prapa cranes its neck, scrutinizing the placard affixed overhead with careful curiosity.
Emblazoned upon the sign, besides the word “Phantasmagoria”, there lay a sentence inscribed in Abyssian: Experience the Rhythm of the Ocean.
Being an aquatic half-demon, Prapa understands the sea’s unique cadence all too well, but it wonders: What purpose does this rhythmic sensation serve? And how does it relate to the mysterious notion of ‘Phantasmagoria’?
Moreover, how does one go about feeling the Rhythm of the Ocean?
A scene unravels in Prapa’s mind: a winged demon retrieving a pail of seawater, pouring it into a wooden tub, all the while wearing a congenial smile, suggesting, as though soaking oneself in this wooden tub would grant one the feeling of the ocean’s rhythm.
Prapa dismisses this absurd notion with a shake of its head, concluding that only by stepping into the unknown will it unravel the truth.
However, it couldn’t help but lament the peculiarly low height of the wooden door. Were it not for its interest piqued by the intriguing Abyssian inscription on the sign, Prapa would undoubtedly have refrained from setting foot here.
Before entering the cabin, Prapa had surmised that the one to inscribe Abyssian on the sign must be a fellow half-demon. Moreover, it would likely be a half-demon that acknowledged and embraced their native bloodline.
However, upon crossing the threshold of the cabin, Prapa came to a startling realization — it was entirely mistaken.
The entity within was not some half-demon who recognized their native bloodline, but rather the embodiment of the native being itself!
Chapter 1042 The Phantom Imp <TOC> Chapter 1044 The Wronged Prapa