Next page password is bold portion: 4hugiqa?aPh
Translator: SumTLMan
A remote wildfire consumes the parched earth, its malignant influence draining the vitality from each sinew of flesh. Once supple skin progressively withers and desiccates, the world becoming a blur. The only discernable sight is a colossal shadow, raging and howling in unchecked madness.
An eerie, powerful purple flame sputters from the shadow.
A single ember lands before him, the sudden sensation of searing heat engulfing his entire being—
With a start, Angel jolts his eyes open.
As his eyelids flicker open, the sight that greets him is a greasy, chubby face marked by a blend of surprise and panic.
Before Angel has a chance to interpret the meaning of the look, a burning sensation engulfs his body. He jarringly rolls off the metallic operating table, scattering a host of experimental tools across the floor.
Only then does Angel realize he had been lying on an operating table. Underneath it, intense flames blaze fiercely. However, the flames start to slowly extinguish, and the source of their quieting is the flick of Bruen’s fingers.
Rising to his feet, Angel regards Bruen with a guarded stare.
His position on the operating table, the flames beneath it, and the scattered experimental tools all hint at something ominous.
Bruen’s eyes dart around, humming a tune, feigning indifference. However, his gaze dares not meet Angel’s.
“What were you planning to do?” Angel demands, his gaze cold.
Only now does Bruen meet Angel’s gaze, shrugging somewhat sheepishly, “I didn’t do anything.”
“Then why was I here, huh? On an operating table?”
“I just saw that you were asleep and thought to offer you a spot to stretch your legs, operating tables are more spacious, aren’t they?” Bruen coughs twice, explaining dryly.
Angel’s gaze lingered on the remnants of the fire beneath the operating table; the flames had been extinguished by Bruen, yet the residual heat persisted like an undying ember.
Anticipating Angel’s question, Bruen resumed, “The operating table seemed a bit frigid, so I added a touch of warmth to make your slumber more comfortable.”
“Do you really think I’d buy that?” Angel inquired, skepticism lacing his voice.
“Just look at yourself, your clothes are still in perfect condition, I assure you I’ve done nothing,” Bruen defended himself, maintaining an air of righteousness.
What he professed indeed echoed the truth—just as he was about to perform his deed, Angel abruptly woke up.
Angel’s attire remained intact, and he could perceive no odd sensations on his person. Perhaps Bruen was indeed telling the truth, although he couldn’t discount the possibility that something had been done without his notice.
Regardless, Bruen’s earlier actions bore no hint of goodwill.
Angel chose to remain silent, thoughts whirring rapidly in his mind like the cogs of a clock, as he recollected the recent events.
He remembered clearly how Bruen had flaunted his alchemical creations upon their return. Angel had thrown in timely praises, causing Bruen to unwittingly reveal quite a bit of valuable information in his triumph.
Why had he fallen asleep, though?
Angel recalled Bruen standing at the entrance of the mysterious partition once more after showing him around.
Before they went to the Frost Moon bar, Angel had noticed the immense silhouette in the partition, along with something akin to an octopus’ tentacles waving around.
The sheer size of it was several magnitudes larger than the one eyed evil deity, Nyarlathotep, who resided outside.
When Angel anticipated that Bruen would unlock the door to introduce the creature within the small compartment, Bruen, to his surprise, did not. Instead, he curtly remarked, “Within lies a specimen for an experiment I am conducting, yet it remains unfinished. Hence, there’s no need for introductions.”
In the spirit of ‘When in Rome, do as the Romans do’, Angel remained indifferent. His curiosity wasn’t that insatiable.
However, as Bruen was leading Angel away, an unusual disturbance stirred from within the chamber.
Bruen let out an exclamation of “Blast it!”, and in the next instant, a bizarre melody wafted out from the chamber. Before Angel could even comprehend the situation, he felt his eyelids grow heavy.
All he remembered before surrendering to the enticing pull of sleep was a final thought echoing in his mind, “It seems to be the sound of a flute”, then he plummeted into a dark, sweet oblivion.
Next, he experienced an uncanny dream, wherein he was scorched by fire, consequently jolting him awake.
Seeing Angel’s gaze shift from dazed to clear, Bruen promptly asserted, “In any case, I didn’t do anything. This is all a misunderstanding, and, moreover, I woke up only slightly earlier than you.”
An operating table, flames, experimental tools… If Bruen expected Angel to believe this was all just a misunderstanding, he would have been sorely mistaken.
However, what could he do? Bruen, after all, was a official wizard, and as an apprentice, Angel was inherently considered of lower status.
“Master Bruen, as everything appears to be in order, I shall take my leave,” he initially wanted to inquire about the cause of his sudden descent into sleep, but right now, distancing himself from Bruen’s laboratory was a higher priority than uncovering the reason.
Bruen hesitated momentarily, “Didn’t we agree to exchange knowledge on alchemy?”
“Maybe another time.”
Bruen sighed inwardly, feeling unjustly accused. After all, he didn’t really do anything. Not only did he not benefit from the situation, but it also seemed that the initially proposed exchange might go down the drain.
“Well…” Bruen paused, pondering whether there were other means to persuade Angel to stay.
However, at that very moment, a colossal “humming” sound, as though it had crossed time and space, reached their ears in an instant.
“Curses!” Bruen’s brow suddenly furrowed deeply, his expression darkening, and he promptly dashed towards the mysterious compartment from earlier.
Simultaneously, the compartment was once again filled with a peculiar rhythmic pulsation. Shortly after, a mysterious melody of a flute seeped out from within.
This time around, Angel dared not listen any longer and immediately spun around, making a beeline for the exit.
Currently, he was still inside Bruen’s alchemy workshop—that is to say, entirely within Bruen’s realm. For his own safety, he had to escape before anything else.
Fortunately, Bruen had not closed the door to his workshop, and on the other hand, Bruen did not have the leisure to pay any heed to Angel’s movements, allowing Angel to successfully sprint out the door.
The instant he stepped outside, Angel was struck by a wave of familiar dizziness.
The earlier flute melody had indeed affected him. Angel bit down on the tip of his tongue—the intense pain momentarily dispersed the drowsy sensation.
Angel continued to sprint away from the lab.
Midway through his escape, the previous colossal “humming” sound resonated throughout the heavens once more. Initially, within the alchemy workshop, it hadn’t seemed like much. However, upon stepping outside, he realized that the sound was deafening.
Nonetheless, what surprised Angel was that as the sound poured into his ears, the dizziness in his mind noticeably decreased.
Following that, Angel fled the lab and sprinted along the road.
All the while, Angel kept hearing that “humming” sound, and he gradually discerned that this sound seemed to be the tolling of a bell.
Indeed, encapsulated within this chime was a sense of grandeur and sanctity, as if it were a manifestation of the will of heaven and earth, dispelling any negative malignancies.
The chime reverberated a total of thirteen times; by the fifth, Angel had already shaken off any vestiges of dizziness.
By the time the chime ceased, Angel had already materialized on a platform halfway up the iceberg.
He initially intended to fly directly to the top of the iceberg. However, as he surveyed his surroundings from the platform, he noticed that the Wings of Cold Frost had ceased their flight and were circling above an island.
Yes, an island.
They were no longer on land but in a domain surrounded by vast waters on all sides.
The midday sun cascaded down, causing the water to shimmer with twinkling waves. The familiar, briny scent of the sea breeze washed over him.
Angel: “Where is this…?”
“This is the Blue Eyerift Inland Sea,” a low, feminine voice sounded from behind.
Upon turning around, Angel saw that Madeline had somehow appeared behind him.
“Madeline, why are you here?” Angel asked, puzzled.
Instead of answering Angel’s question, Madeline posed one of her own, “I sensed you rushing out from inside the iceberg earlier. What happened? You seemed quite flustered.”
A glint of coldness flashed across Madeline’s eyes. Having promised Lord Rhine to protect Angel as much as possible, she naturally took more interest in Angel’s affairs.
Angel summarized what had transpired in the alchemy workshop.
Upon hearing his account, Madeline conducted a brief examination, “Bruen probably didn’t deceive you. I don’t see any signs of external force on you. However, from what you’ve described, it seems like Bruen may indeed have had the intention to harm you.”
Madeline scoffed, her voice as cold as a winter’s gust, “I should have known, those who devote themselves to the study of biological alchemy are nothing short of lunatics.”
Angel, however, harbored an inkling that Madeline’s disparaging remark was not aimed at Bruen, but instead, another individual hidden within the folds of her disdain.
“Regardless, you would be wise to keep your interactions with Bruen to a minimum,” Madeline advised.
Having weathered previous predicaments, Angel was not inclined to throw caution to the wind. While Bruen may have had no initial intention of causing him harm, one could never predict the whims of a wizard. Their allegiance could change as quickly as the wind changes direction, and one second of convivial camaraderie could be succeeded by a sudden turn of betrayal.
Even Madeline was no exception to this mercurial nature.
The relationship between Angel and Madeline was precarious, balanced on a razor’s edge. Perhaps if the rewards exceeded her expectations, she wouldn’t think twice about throwing Angel to the wolves.
Considering this, Angel subtly tamed his burgeoning ego, inflated by his escalating fame.
In that moment, several figures streaked across the sky, as wizards atop the ice mountain began to vacate the Wings of Cold Frost one after another.
“We’re now on the verge of Domain Island in the Blue Eyerift Inland Sea,” Madeline explained. “Before long, we’ll cross the threshold. There’s no need for us to linger here. Let’s descend.”
Without further ado, Madeline soared downwards, leading the way.
Angel followed suit, and finally alighted on the sandy beach of Domain Island.
Upon landing, he could feel a pair of eyes sizing him up, scrutinizing every inch of his person. However, this sensation of being under the microscope was fleeting; the observer’s gaze soon shifted away.
Confused, Angel scanned his surroundings, attempting to pinpoint who had been surveying him so intensely.
At this point, Madeline remarked, “There’s no need to look around anymore. It was the Eye of Judgment from the Extreme Sect.”