Chapter 1340 Sailor's Miracle <TOC> Chapter 1342 Test Results
Translator: SumTLMan
As the body of the whale hunting sea siren was hauled aboard the merchant vessel, along with the sailor, the crowd surged forward. Friends and comrades hoisted the sailor overhead and cast him skyward, a lively ritual manifesting their exhilaration.
Each time the sailor was tossed upwards, he couldn’t help but glance towards the heavens. The fantastical ‘lunar vessel’ he’d glimpsed earlier had now vanished. Was it reality or merely a figment of his imagination?
At this moment, he shrugged off the quandary with a chuckle, “Who cares! At least, I’m still breathing.” His heart pounded vigorously; the adrenaline from the battle against the sea siren still ran high. Rather than mull over ephemeral matters, he chose to relish the present.
The sensation of being the center of attention!
His sportiveness only fueled the crowd’s elation further. Despite the heavy toll of the skirmish, every seafarer is ever-ready to make the ultimate sacrifice to the deep blue. More than any loss, it’s those who survive that truly matter!
While excitement swirled on one side, the captain exchanged a knowing look with the seasoned sailor, “I’d thought all was lost. Yet, this turn of events… the thrill of escaping the jaws of doom, is beyond exhilarating.”
The old sailor nodded, “He’s a hero.”
The captain concurred, “Indeed, he is a hero! Now, it’s time to celebrate our hero.”
With that, even the captain shed his inhibitions and roared with laughter, immersing himself in the jubilation.
The old sailor, with a jovial grin, took in the spectacle. Finally, he gazed skyward. Even though the sky bore no sign, he was certain he had spotted a small ship radiating the brilliance of stars and moon.
It was from this very vessel that a white tendril had emerged, retrieving the fallen sickle from the depths, and returning it to the sailor.
“He speaks the truth,” the seasoned seafarer mused with a slight sigh.
The old seafarer wasn’t privy to what the ship carried, but its hold, filled with starlight and moonbeams, was testament to its extraordinary nature.
As for their reluctance to show themselves, he chose not to pry.
After all, when push came to shove, they had lent the sailors a hand; there should be no animosity.
Knowing just that was enough.
…
As calm returned to the sea, the Gondola set its course towards the Old Land Continent.
The ordeal of the cargo ship was but a minor blip for the likes of Angel and his company.
However, what took Angel by surprise was that, though he had braced himself to assist in vanquishing the whale hunting siren of the sea, his aid wasn’t required. A brave sailor, through sheer will and grit, not only saved himself but also rescued the entire ship.
While Angel did lend some support, in essence, it was the sailor who emerged as the hero in this dire situation.
“When one is all in, even the ordinary can wield wisdom and strength that land a victorious blow,” Popoca, having witnessed the sailor’s valor, admired. If he were still an average man like before, he might not have matched the sailor’s prowess.
“Hence, one should never underestimate the potential of humanity,” Angel added.
Popoca nodded, “It’s just a pity you didn’t get to test your trick.”
Angel responded, “In fact, I already have.”
Popoca raised an eyebrow, “Are you referring to that… white tendril from earlier?”
Without confirming nor denying, Angel tapped the table gently with his knuckles, and as the crisp sound echoed, two slender white tendrils emerged ethereally from behind him.
Under Angel’s guidance, the white tendrils mysteriously produced a set of porcelain teaware adorned with intricate enamel patterns. With practiced finesse, they used a flint to brew tea, and soon, two steaming cups of black tea were poured.
Angel lifted his cup and took a sip, his face betraying no emotion. Yet, internally he tutted, thinking, ‘Indeed, black tea without milk is heresy.’
Popoca hesitated for a moment, following Angel’s lead, and tasted his tea. However, his gaze remained fixated on those swaying white tendrils behind Angel.
When a sailor’s curved blade had fallen earlier, Angel had extended this white tendril, stretching a hundred meters to the sea’s surface.
At the time, Popoca didn’t find the white tendril odd as it seemed too ordinary, doing ordinary things.
Summoning items out of thin air is something a Magic Hand could achieve too.
Even long-distance manipulation wasn’t a big deal. The mid-level Magic Hand could precisely control up to a hundred meters and was even capable of intricate alchemical experiments. Grabbing a blade, a task without much technical depth, was child’s play for the mage hand.
Even without the Magic Hand, mental energy could do the job. So initially, Popoca didn’t regard the white tendril as anything extraordinary.
But since Angel claimed that his experimental act was the white tendril, Popoca naturally observed it more seriously.
Though Popoca’s powers have declined significantly, perhaps even weaker than Leon, he’s been immersed in the Wizarding World for years and has honed his discerning eyes.
From this observation, truly, a distinct variance has been unveiled.
“It seems imbued with the essence of illusionary spells, ethereal and elusive. Yet, even amidst its intangibility, it can influence the material realm. The power of illusion and reality, though seemingly at odds, harmoniously merge.” Popoca paused at this, a touch of profundity in his gaze, “However, it feels oddly familiar, as if I’ve encountered it somewhere before.”
Is it a trick of the true illusion school? Yet in all of Popoca’s years, he hadn’t come across many true illusion tricks, making ‘familiarity’ even more puzzling.
Lifting his head, Popoca met Angel’s eyes, finding a smirk playing on his lips.
He hesitated, a moment of revelation striking him, “The Phantasmal Limb of the Solid Colored Softworm?!”
Angel had entrusted Popoca with the cultivation of the Softworms, hence he was no stranger to these potent creatures. Upon closer inspection, the Softworm’s Phantasmal Limb bore a striking resemblance to the pale tendrils on Angel’s back.
Both seemed ethereal, yet both had the capacity to influence the material world.
Furthermore, their forms were uncannily alike.
“Is that truly the Phantasmal Limb?” Popoca pointed to the still-waving pale tendrils. If not looked at closely, they resembled two fluffy white tails trailing from Angel.
“Indeed,” Angel neither concealed nor denied, knowing well that Popoca, familiar as he was with the Softworms, would discern the truth eventually.
Popoca was taken aback, his understanding of the Phantasmal Limb profound. The mere Softworm, when bestowed with the Phantasmal Limb, could wreak such formidable havoc. Imagine the awe-striking power Angel could unleash wielding it!
“Is this… the new spell you’ve been working on?” Popoca inquired, voice tinged with apprehension.
To that question, Angel remained enigmatically silent.
The Phantasmal Limb is, in essence, a manifestation of the spell creation, but it hasn’t received the “endorsement” of the World Will. Perhaps, it is more apt to say that this was a Commendation the World Will presented to Angel.
Earlier, when Angel perceived the anomalies in the spell creation, he was bestowed with a reward from the World Will.
This reward illuminated Angel’s mind with a myriad of epiphanies in a brief moment, inspiration gushing forth like a spring, immersing him wholly in an ocean of knowledge integration. Ultimately, he even glimpsed the path to true wisdom!
Amidst the surging waves of insight, Angel achieved a comprehensive grasp of his own knowledge. Aware of the adage “Biting off more than one can chew,” he chose to delve deeply into the question that intrigued him most at the time.
His subject of investigation was the Phantasmal Limb.
Given the circumstances, a plethora of ingenious thoughts ceaselessly contributed to his research on the Phantasmal Limb.
Almost in the blink of an eye, Angel had established a foundational understanding of the Phantasmal Limb. However, while comprehension is one thing, application is another. Normally, this would require some time. But, as a master of illusions and given that the Phantasmal Limb is based on a robust physical foundation, he was able to employ it in a remarkably short span.
Presently, although the Phantasmal Limb has manifested, its utilization is still a bit raw, allowing him to project only two phantasmal limbs.
Nevertheless, this is an impressive feat, and Angel is quite content with it.
Moreover, compared to the Gateway Model, the Phantasmal Limb has brought him greater astonishments.
Regarding the Gateway Model in the Spell Position, Angel has always known its function as spatial displacement. He was merely uncertain about the potential variables this “unique energy” could introduce.
Setting aside the as-yet-unknown variables of the Gateway Model, Angel’s greater astonishment with the Phantasmal Limb lies in its tangible enhancements to him.
While the Phantasmal Limb appears to possess the nature of “illusion,” its foundation is intrinsically physical.
To put it simply, imagine Angel’s physical body as a fertile ground, the illusionary energy as the nutrients, and the Phantasmal Limb as the flower that blooms upon this soil. Should the Phantasmal Limb part from the body, the soil, it becomes like a rootless water lily, and even abundant illusionary energy wouldn’t brighten its vibrancy.
Most crucially, if the foundation of the Phantasmal Limb is the physical body, then the stronger the body, the more astonishing the power conferred to the limb.
In essence, the Phantasmal Limb can be equated to an exoskeleton for humans, extending the power of the physical body further and allowing for varied applications.
For instance, let’s hypothesize that the eyes are the body’s vulnerability. However, with the Phantasmal Limb acting as an exoskeleton, it can concentrate the body’s mightiest defense around the eyes, turning a weakness into a strength.
This is but a rudimentary application; naturally, it leans more towards physical power. Bearing the prefix “Phantasmal,” the limb also encompasses illusionary capabilities, making its potential even more versatile.
However, the exploration of its full scope remains a task for Angel himself.
Given the present circumstances, Angel is quite content. His physique, honed in the skirmishes of the Abyss, rivals that of wizards with dominant bloodlines. Thus, the enhancement the Phantasmal Limb offers to his combat capabilities is beyond imagination.
It’s entirely plausible to regard the Phantasmal Limb as a bona fide “spell”, rather than a mere “trick” used by apprentices.
Compared to the purely mobility and strategic “Gateway Model”, the visible improvements granted by the Phantasmal Limb are undeniable. Moreover, the illusionary power it consumes is negligible, drawing more from one’s vitality. And currently, what Angel has in abundance is vitality to expend.
Chapter 1340 Sailor's Miracle <TOC> Chapter 1342 Test Results