Chapter 1371 Split Personalities <TOC> Chapter 1373 Magnusson
Translator: SumTLMan
When their discussion was almost concluded, Muse unveiled the mechanical armor he was currently creating, presenting it before Angel.
The mechanical armor did bear some resemblance to a mech suit. However, compared to the advanced fully-enclosed and automatically operated concept of a mech suit, the mechanical armor was more like a wearable exoskeletal, which reminded Angel of his Phantasmal Limb.
Upon closer inspection, there were distinct differences between the two.
The power of the Phantasmal Limb amplifies with the strength of one’s physical body — the stronger the body, the mightier the limb becomes.
However, for the mechanical armor, its efficacy hinges on the power of the alchemist’s techniques: the stronger the technique, the more powerful its effects.
In terms of raw potential, Angel felt the Phantasmal Limb might have a slight edge. Yet, the mechanical armor excels in its simplicity and versatility. It can be enchanted and embedded with spells, fortified in various ways, and can be replaced at any time without depleting its magical source.
All in all, while there are parallels between the two, each boasts its unique advantages. From Angel’s perspective, excluding physical strength from the equation, when contrasting the Phantasmal Limb and mechanical armor, the latter would certainly reign superior once perfected.
After Muse concluded his introduction of the mechanical armor, he made a proposition to Angel:
“Would you allow me to incorporate some of the ideas you’ve mentioned into the mechanical armor I’m currently creating?”
Muse paused for a moment, “Of course, I won’t shortchange you; I’ll provide appropriate compensation.”
Angel was momentarily taken aback. His remarks were mere concepts and ideas, far from concrete implementation. If Muse intended to bring these ideas to fruition, the path ahead would surely be long and arduous.
Moreover, Angel had previously shared these thoughts with Midora, so he never really held them in high regard.
Nodding in agreement, Angel replied, “Of course, you can. Actually, there’s no need for any compensation…”
“Ahem.” Before Angel could finish, Midora suddenly coughed, interrupting Angel.
Casting a puzzled look towards Midora, Angel caught a suggestive glance from him.
Understanding but somewhat uncertain, Angel nodded, continuing, “I’m eager to see the evolution of mechanical armor when integrated with the concept of mechs.”
Muse too had noticed Midora’s expression. A subtle gleam crossed Muse’s eyes, but his face remained unchanged. “Now with the introduction of your mech concept, it sparks new thoughts in my once stagnant mind. I reckon the finalized design won’t be far off. I’ll notify you immediately when it’s ready.”
Nodding, anticipation was evident in Angel’s eyes.
“Likewise, I am eager to see this mech of yours,” remarked Muse.
However, Angel had no immediate plans to create such a mech, so, faced with Muse’s expectations, he could only respond with an enigmatic smile.
Just as the atmosphere was warm and congenial, a light-blue humanoid spirit suddenly emerged from the ground.
“Antonio, what brings you here?” Muse turned to the luminescent figure whose features were indistinct, visible only as a soft glow.
Antonio, reminiscent of a butler from a noble household, bowed slightly to Muse. “My apologies for the interruption, sir. Some are preparing to leave the conference room. If you’re much longer, there may not be enough members left to witness the ceremony for the new member.”
“Is that so?” Muse took out a mechanical pocket watch, checked the time, and murmured, “We’ve only talked for an hour. What’s the rush?”
Unflappable as ever, Antonio replied, “Indeed, sir. You and Sir Pat spoke for an hour. However, an hour prior, you had already summoned them. On average, they’ve been waiting for over two hours.”
Muse rose with a huff, “Let’s conclude our conversation for today and address the trivialities.”
“That’s no small matter; it’s a time-honored ceremony.”
“Just a mere Witness Ceremony. Why make such a fuss?” Muse mumbled, turning to Angel and saying, “Let’s go. Though it feels like a mere formality, it’s an experience we have to go through.”
Muse took the lead, while Antonio turned, giving a faint nod with his obscured face towards Angel before vanishing.
Midora added, “Joining the Research Institute indeed requires this formality. Muse inviting you is part of the reason. Let’s go. Those alchemists have waited for hours. They might be growing impatient.”
From Midora’s explanation, Angel began to understand this ‘formality’. A new member needs approval from at least ten Research Institute members to be recognized. For Muse, it’s just a formality; once he agrees, other members won’t object, even if they disapprove of Angel.
On their way to the conference room, Midora whispered, “Remember, if Muse offers compensation, don’t refuse. He’s thick-skinned. If you refuse, he’ll happily accept.”
“To you, this might seem trivial, but for Muse, it’s a clash of thought processes. For an alchemist of his realm, a single inspiration holds great value, let alone a direct intellectual confrontation,” Midora paused, “And the compensation he offers won’t disappoint you.” While they conversed, Muse, leading the way, had already left the Creation Hall.
Angel had initially thought the conference room was inside the Creation Hall. Instead, Muse led them along a path outside the hall, walking against a wall resembling a cliffside.
Descending continuously in a zigzag pattern, neither touching the ground nor the deep darkness, they finally passed through a grand illuminated gate. To Angel’s surprise, a suspended sky was on the other side.
Upon closer inspection, it was evident that this place was actually part of the exterior of the tower at the Research Institute.
Crossing a bridge forged from steel, they arrived at a fortress suspended in mid-air, seemingly touching the sky.
Inside the fortress was a grand circular hall. At its heart, a long table was illuminated by overhead lights.
Around the table, the setting resembled an audience section of a courtroom, with numerous seats. Yet, at that moment, not a soul occupied them.
“In reality, according to the ceremonial procedure, alchemists would come to witness the event. However, your abrupt inclusion in the Research Institute, decided by Muse, made this step redundant,” Midora explained. “Even the ten members who are supposed to bear witness were hastily assembled.”
Muse took the principal seat at the head of the table, while Angel was designated a seat opposite him.
With a reassuring pat on Angel’s shoulder, Midora found and settled into her own place.
Only after Angel took his seat did he notice that the long table had more than thirty seats, a third of which remained vacant.
Upon further inspection, most of the seated figures weren’t real at all, but rather illusions.
“This isn’t personal. Most members of the Research Institute are quite lax. They usually manifest in this manner for these ceremonies. Moreover, due to the sudden nature of this event and the abrupt decision to hold a witnessing ceremony, many members, even if they wished to be here, couldn’t make it,” voiced a middle-aged woman.
She wasn’t a real person either but another illusion. Sitting closest to Angel, she was to his right.
Spotting Angel’s gaze, she greeted with a smile, “I’m Portia, currently residing on the Hills of Elysia. I practice the ancient arts of potion-making and alchemy.”
Angel responded with a reserved nod, “My name is…”
“Angel Pat. Oh, I’m quite familiar with your name,” Portia replied, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “I’ve also seen your work in —City Firefly’s Night Whisper—.”
As Portia chatted amiably, Angel listened intently, a nagging feeling of familiarity gnawing at him concerning her name.
“Despite some unforeseen circumstances that prevented many from attending this witnessing ceremony, there is one notable exception,” Portia’s gaze turned to a particular seat, her eyes reflecting an enigmatic light. “For the first time in a millennium, Granny has graced us with her true presence, suggesting she sees great potential in you.”
Following Portia’s line of sight, Angel’s eyes widened in surprise.
While unfamiliar with the seating hierarchy here, Angel surmised those closer to the center must hold greater prestige.
To his left sat Midora, and to the right — the very “Granny” Portia mentioned. A face Angel recognized all too well.
It was Fingernail Granny he had met not so long ago.
The owner of Fingernail Alchemy House!
Perhaps sensing Angel’s gaze, Fingernail Granny turned, acknowledging him with a slight nod, a silent greeting.
“Fingernail Granny is part of the Research Institute?”
Portia confirmed with a nod, “Indeed, not only is she a formal member, but she also belongs to the revered elder echelon. A millennium ago, she crafted many legendary creations but faded into obscurity due to certain events.”
Angel seemed to have a moment of enlightenment and nodded. He remembered the first time he met Fingernail Granny. She had once remarked, “My name? It’s been ages, I’ve forgotten.”
The wistful look in Fingernail Granny’s eyes as she spoke those words hinted that it wasn’t genuine forgetfulness, but rather an unwillingness to bring it up.
Angel was clueless about what tales lay behind Fingernail Granny’s reticence, what made her fall silent, and why she hesitated to revisit her past, including her own name. However, seeing this somewhat familiar face in the Research Institute did bring a modicum of solace to him.
Upon laying eyes on Fingernail Granny, Angel’s gaze also wandered to the others seated at the table.
The figures before him were largely familiar, renowned alchemists of the Southern Region. Their demeanor, however, was more ambiguous than that of Fingernail Granny or Midora. Their glances at Angel seemed to be filled more with scrutiny and curiosity than anything else.
Angel couldn’t discern their intentions towards him.
It seemed Portia noticed Angel’s internal musings, and with a smile, she explained, “Those who came at the Director’s invitation have essentially taken a predetermined stance. They’re not of concern. The truly unsettling members are absent this time.”
As Portia spoke, her gaze shifted to an empty spot at the center of the long table.
“Do you know whose seat that is?” Without waiting for Angel’s response, she continued, “Have you ever heard of the Grafting Lunatic?”
Chapter 1371 Split Personalities <TOC> Chapter 1373 Magnusson