Translator: SumTLMan
Looking at Wimbledon, who was clinging to his leg with a sense of entitlement, Angel couldn’t help but wonder: didn’t this guy despise him?
When they first boarded the airship, Wimbledon almost fought with him for not bringing Ananda along—of course, it was a one-sided desire to fight, and Angel didn’t pay any attention to him.
Although Wimbledon was naïve, he had learned quite a bit of arrogance and trash talk under the guidance of Ananda, a notorious ringleader. Wimbledon didn’t end up fighting Angel due to Ananda’s persuasion, but he still left some harsh words.
Under such circumstances, Wimbledon suddenly became close to him. Even if it was the fear of the unfamiliar environment and the fear of heights that made him uneasy, Angel felt that these were not the reasons for the rambunctious child to lower his guard.
Could it be that he had a change of heart overnight?
It wasn’t until they stepped onto the sandy beach of Phantom Island that Angel grabbed Wimbledon by the nape of his neck and pulled him off his leg.
“We’re here,” Angel’s clear voice allowed Wimbledon to open his eyes slightly. Seeing the sandy beach and palm forest ahead, his anxious heart gradually calmed down. However, Wimbledon still dared not look back. The beach of Phantom Island was not connected to the surging ocean but to a floating, unstable sea of clouds. Falling off would mean certain death.
Wimbledon’s face showed a bashful expression, not daring to look at Angel. After all, he had been a tough boy for many years, and this was the first time he had been so cowardly, especially in front of Angel, with whom he had recently quarreled.
Angel, however, did not notice Wimbledon’s unease. Instead, he was now holding his chin, pondering his next move: “We safely arrived at Phantom Island, but without a flying permit, Wimbledon would either be sliced in half by the magic barrier or devoured by phantom beasts if he entered the island just like this. What should we do now?”
Angel’s communicator was the lowest grade and couldn’t send long-distance messages, so he couldn’t notify Butler Goode.
“How about letting Wimbledon follow me using his ability?” Angel seriously considered the feasibility of this plan. Wimbledon possessed a power similar to the “phantom body,” which should allow him to avoid the attacks of the magic barrier and the phantom beasts, right?
However, Wimbledon’s “pseudo-phantom body” had a short duration. Each time he entered the phantom state, it lasted no more than one or two seconds. To move, he had to reappear from the phantom state.
Obviously, there were times when his power was not sufficient.
“What should we do now?” Angel stood on the beach, silent for a long time. Wimbledon’s state went from recovering his senses at first to a slightly relaxed state. He then stared intently at Angel, waiting for his next move.
Being stared at by Wimbledon for a long time was somewhat awkward. Angel coughed twice and decided to deceive Wimbledon, “Phantom Island is my mentor’s cultivation ground. To take you in, I need to ask for his permission. Wait for me here for a moment, and I’ll inform my mentor and then come back for you.”
There were no strangers here, so there was no need to worry about shyness. As long as Wimbledon stayed away from the edge of the beach, he wouldn’t have to fear heights. Therefore, he nodded to Angel, “I understand. And… thank you.”
Angel raised his eyebrows, surprised that the mischievous boy would actually say thanks.
“Alright, wait here.” Angel knew that mischievous children always had inexplicable pride, so he didn’t tease Wimbledon but responded indifferently and turned to leave.
However, as Angel was about to enter the forest, he heard a familiar, hoarse male voice behind him, “Angel?”
He whipped his head around in surprise, only to find Sanders flying from outside towards Phantom Island. It turned out that his mentor had not been on the island when he sent him a message earlier?
Sanders’ attire was always impeccable, occasionally sporting a red-lined, black-cloaked cape, exuding an imposing aura.
As Sanders landed from the sky, Angel immediately greeted him.
Sanders responded casually, his gaze lightly sweeping over Wimbledon before pausing and then looking back at Angel.
“Is this your magic servant?” Sanders asked casually.
Angel shook his head, brought Wimbledon over, and said, “No, he’s here to find Butler Goode, claiming Goode is his great-grandfather… He is…”
As Angel was introducing Wimbledon, he suddenly paused and then smirked:
“He’s the eternally young Peter Pan.”
“Who’s Peter Pan? My name is Wimbledon Moria.” Wimbledon replied with dissatisfaction.
Angel chuckled and explained to Sanders, “There’s a fairy tale from my hometown that features a mischievous boy who never grows up, called Peter Pan. He’s quite similar.”
Angel briefly recounted how he met Wimbledon, specifically mentioning Wimbledon’s abilities and his family’s connection with Lady Red Lotus.
After listening to Angel’s account, Sanders looked at Wimbledon and said, “Goode is not a Moria shadow servant but a Mosa shadow servant. Moreover, to my knowledge, Goode hasn’t returned to the Mosa tribe for forty years.”
Wimbledon lowered his head under Sanders’ gaze, even without Sanders exerting any pressure. The aura of someone who had long held a high position intimidated him, “My mother is a Mosa shadow servant. Although I’ve never met Great-Grandfather Goode, my grandmother once told me stories about him and gave me this.”
Wimbledon took out an ancient ring with an emerald embedded in it.
“My grandmother told me that if I encounter difficulties I cannot solve, I can bring this ring and seek help from Grandpa Goode. She also said that he works for a great wizard,” said Wimbledon, subtly flattering Sanders with a gleam in his eye.
Sanders glanced at the emerald ring and indeed saw a trace of Goode’s lingering aura.
Without expressing agreement or disagreement, Sanders nodded, waved his hand to grant Wimbledon temporary access to Phantom Island, and then flew away.
As for the entanglement between Wimbledon and the Red Lotus, Sanders didn’t bother to explain, nor did he pay much attention to it.
“Let’s go. Since Lord Sanders didn’t say anything else, he probably acknowledges your identity,” said Angel, glancing at the emerald ring. From an alchemist’s perspective, the ring had no special features, likely a regular accessory imbued with unique emotions, much like Sanders’ dagger.
Wimbledon looked enviously at the vanishing Sanders, “It must be nice to fly in the sky. If only I could become a wizard too. Will Grandpa Goode teach me the ways of wizards?”
Angel didn’t respond to that statement, knowing that Goode was not a wizard, but seemingly had abilities on par with one. At least when they were in front of Lord Rhine, Goode had performed much better than Angel.
“Actually, Peter Pan can fly too,” said Angel, before walking straight into the dense forest.
Angel led Wimbledon all the way to Sanders’ residence.
Upon pushing open the front door, they saw Butler Goode approaching. First, he greeted Angel, “Young Master Pat,” and then looked at Wimbledon with a hint of nostalgia in his eyes.
Wimbledon had seen Goode’s portrait in his clan before. Many years ago, Goode had appeared in the same attire, his entire body concealed by a mask. The unique pattern on the mask allowed Wimbledon to immediately recognize Goode. Wimbledon felt both the joy of meeting a relative and a hint of anxiety.
Moreover, Wimbledon was even more surprised by Angel’s identity. He had thought Angel was just an ordinary wizard, but the revered Grandpa Goode respectfully called him “Young Master.” Did this mean Angel held a high status?
Angel said to Butler Goode, “This is Wimbledon, your relative, as he claims. I have brought him here, and I’ll leave the rest to you, Butler Goode.”
For once, Goode’s usually placid voice carried a hint of emotion, “My lord has already informed me. Thank you, Young Master Pat. I’ll take it from here.”
Having successfully delivered Wimbledon to Butler Goode, Angel prepared to visit the tutor’s study. However, he hadn’t walked far when he heard Wimbledon’s timid voice, “Sir, sir, sir!”
Angel stopped and turned to look at Wimbledon.
Wimbledon’s face was flushed red, “Thank you for bringing me to my grandpa. C-c-could I ask you for a favor?”
Beneath his mask, Goode furrowed his brow, wanting to interrupt Wimbledon’s impertinence.
“You may speak.”
Angel thought Wimbledon would bring up Ananda again, so his expression seemed calm, but his heart was somewhat weary.
“Could you tell me the story of Peter Pan?”
Wimbledon hesitated for a while, and his request surprised Angel: Did he want to know the story of Peter Pan out of loneliness or a desire for a sense of belonging? Perhaps both?
It wasn’t a difficult request, so Angel casually nodded, “If there’s an opportunity, we’ll talk about it later.”
…
Opening the door to Sanders’ study, Angel was not surprised to see Sanders, as always, already seated at his desk, writing furiously.
“I know you have many questions for me, such as matters about the Nightmare Domain. I’ll tell you about them later. For now, it’s most important that you recount everything that happened when you closed the Nightmare Plane portal. Be thorough.” Sanders’ expression carried an unprecedented solemnity, causing Angel to feel a hint of unease.
Angel’s initially relaxed demeanor began to recede due to Sanders’ expression, and he started to seriously recall the situation at the time.
“The mentor asked me to find a way to close the portal. I didn’t know what to do at the time, so I thought of destroying the nodes within me…” Angel recounted while reminiscing.
“…Later, my unauthorized destruction of the heart node led to a severe injury and unconsciousness. When I woke up, I found that the green-haired owl doll had saved me and urged me not to commit suicide… I thought that since I could communicate with Ollie, I’d try to trick the method of closing the portal out of him.”
“… As one monster after another emerged, I thought about the spectacle Ollie mentioned the queen required for her tour. I decided to take the opposite approach, pretending to expand the portal and speed up the efficiency of the monsters’ entry and exit. After finding out the specific control method for the portal, I’d find a way to close it.”
At the time, Angel thought that if he could expand the portal, he could certainly shrink or even close it. Though they were polar opposites, the operating methods should be similar.
With this idea, Angel finally learned what he wanted to know from Ollie, using the excuse of amnesia.
The portal to the Nightmare Plane was controlled by opening a person’s will, determining its on/off state and size. Ollie taught Angel the method to control will, and after learning it, Angel was surprised to find that controlling one’s will was actually related to his ability to sense monster emotions. He had previously communicated with monsters using emotions subconsciously, without truly mastering the art of conversing with other beings through emotions.
This control of will taught Angel the true way of emotional communication, as well as many more methods of personal emotional control. If the other party let down their mental barrier, he could even directly communicate with humans using emotions.
After mastering this method, Angel didn’t immediately close the portal. Instead, he did something else.