In Daniel's VIP room, amidst the congratulatory voices of various dignitaries from different countries who ca to visit Daniel and shower him with praise after a successful launch, Envy, staying inside the private zone of the room and taking care of little Sylvana along with Michaela, let out a blissful smile after witnessing the scene.
At that mont, a phone rang, and Daniel checked the number before excusing himself to the private zone, leaving his employees to entertain the guests.
"Yes, Odysseus? What's the matter?" Daniel asked once he received the call.
A mont later, after Daniel heard what Odysseus said, his face paled. "What did you say?" Daniel asked and then quickly hung up.
"What happened?" asked Envy.
"Half an hour ago, Sloth got attacked by the Hightower mage," Daniel answered.
"What!?" Envy blurted out in disbelief. This news shook her deeply. Sloth, in her eyes, was like the youngest and the most vulnerable of all seven witches due to her curse of sloth, which made her always feel sluggish, sleepy, and slow to act.
She really wanted to go there right now to see what really happened.
"Let's go there together." As if understanding her thoughts, Daniel offered, and the three of them excused themselves from the crowd. They left the crowd in the capable hands of the Astral Tech employees.
— anwhile, 35 minute before launch —
On one of the bustling foodie streets filled with various restaurants, Sloth sat in her trusty wheelchair. A gangster from the Veneziale Gang pushed the wheelchair, guiding her to a newly reserved seat at a restaurant for the sleepy witch.
Sloth's sleepiness persisted, and her sluggish deanor remained unchanged. She dozed off along the way on the lively street until a wave of magical energy surged past her.
In that mont, the people around her, bustling through the busy street, began to disperse. They walked away with blank expressions, as if entranced. Even the Veneziale gangster pushing her wheelchair toward the restaurant started to drift away.
In the aftermath of the magical wave that dispersed the bustling crowd, the once lively foodie street took on an eerie atmosphere. The neon signs of various restaurants flickered, casting intermittent shadows that danced along the empty sidewalks. Tables and chairs outside the eateries stood deserted, as if frozen in a mont of abandonnt.
The air, once filled with the aroma of diverse cuisines, now hung heavy with an unsettling stillness. The absence of the usual chatter, laughter, and clinking of utensils created a vacuum of sound, amplifying the eerie silence that enveloped the deserted street.
Sloth, still in her wheelchair, remained at the center of this strange scene. The emptiness around her emphasized the contrast between her languid presence and the void that surrounded her. The only movent ca from the occasional flutter of papers or the rustle of leaves, carried by a faint breeze that whispered through the stillness.
It was a surreal tableau, frozen in an otherworldly hush, as if ti itself had paused, leaving Sloth alone in a hauntingly empty foodie street.
As Sloth surveyed the eerily vacant foodie street, a sinister developnt unfolded. From the shadows of nurous alleys, figures clad in black robes erged, their movents synchronized with an unnatural precision. These were mages from the Hightower, their presence casting a dark pall over the deserted surroundings.
The hooded figures advanced with deliberate steps, their faces obscured by the shadows of their hoods. The air thickened with an oppressive aura as they encircled Sloth, forming an ominous barrier between her and any potential escape.
Observing the unfolding threat, Sloth desperately attempted to activate the ergency button on her wheelchair's armrest.
However, the incessant beeping and the on-screen indicator revealed a grim reality—no signal. Undeterred, she resorted to communication magic in an attempt to reach Daniel or anyone at the base, only to be t with silence. The mysterious figures in black robes had effectively cut off all avenues of communication, employing both signal jamrs and a magical barrier to intercept any form of magical outreach.
"Greetings, Ms. Sloth. Long ti no see," one of the hooded figures taunted, his voice echoing in the empty street. As Sloth persisted in pressing the ergency button, he revealed their interference with her attempts to call for help. "Don't bother trying to contact others. It's useless. We've installed signal jamrs and created a magic barrier to intercept any form of communication magic."
With this revelation, Sloth ceased her futile efforts and focused on the man who addressed her. He lifted his hood, revealing the face of a man in his mid-thirties—a face familiar to Jas as Eisenhart, the mage he had confronted on the prisoner ship.
"Ms. Sloth, we need your cooperation. Please co with us," Eisenhart urged, his gaze fixed on Sloth.
"No," she firmly replied, shaking her head.
"Sorry, but I didn't ask for your permission either," Eisenhart declared, signaling his peers to encircle Sloth.
The hooded mages closed in, intent on capturing Sloth and bringing her back to the Hightower. They knew she held crucial secrets, particularly regarding Atlantean artifact creation and Daniel's undisclosed information.
However, their advance was abruptly halted as they succumbed to a deep, soundless slumber, collapsing to the ground. Sloth had employed her unique sleep magic, a defense chanism she used to incapacitate her adversaries.
Ordinarily, a sleep spell cast by a mage would prove ineffective against their own kind, given the higher ntal resilience, mana shields, and, in so cases, ntal barriers. Sloth, however, defied this norm. Her magic, enhanced by the curse of Sloth, magnified the slothfulness factor to an extraordinary degree, enabling her sleep spell to pierce through even a mage's ntal defenses.
Witnessing the unexpected turn, Eisenhart and his accomplices swiftly retreated, distancing themselves from the designated magic range Sloth had established around her.
Now faced with the challenge of apprehending Sloth without causing significant harm and ensuring her survival, they needed to devise a strategy to counter her formidable magical defenses.
"Hm… Not bad. But let's see how you put this thing to sleep," Eisenhart remarked, waving his hand. His black robe shifted as magical energy gathered. A suitcase concealed within the robe opened, releasing a black-red substance that began to take on a distinct form.
This magic was Eisenhart's signature ability—Terror Construct Creation. It manifested a figure representing the deepest fears of the target or, at the very least, the fear associated with the incident they dreaded the most. In Michaela's case, it had been the fear of rejection by Daniel.
The black-red substance slowly transford, revealing a familiar figure. The embodint of fear took the shape of none other than Greed, the Witch of Greed—an individual who could be considered Sloth's only friend.
"Eh? Greed?" Sloth uttered the na of that figure, her mind shaken as the power of the Terror Construct pierced through her ntal barrier, convincing Sloth that the Greed in front of her was the real Greed—her friend.
"Don't co near …" Sloth tried to move her wheelchair away, but the disdainful, annoyed, and disgusted expression on Greed's face made her hand shake with fear.
"Where do you think you're going, you useless girl?" Greed said, devoid of any friendliness, startling Sloth.
These words from Greed were particularly grating to Sloth. It was the phrase she feared the most, as her curse of Sloth made her susceptible to sleep and an irresistible urge to be lazy, even in the midst of important work. Suppressing the curse with her magical energy, however, weakened her magic more than it should be.
"No… Greed… I'm… I'm not useless…" Sloth attempted to refute, but mories flooded back—tis when projects with Greed were delayed or canceled, resulting in significant financial losses for Sloth.
"Heh… You? Not useless?" The Greed Terror Construct asked in disdain, walking toward Sloth. "Don't even make start with you…."
Plop!
At that mont, Greed's words were cut off, and her body imdiately fell to the ground, asleep. It appeared that the Greed Terror Construct had unknowingly stepped into Sloth's sleep magic.
"What!? Impossible!!" Eisenhart roared in disbelief and shock. It was the first ti he had seen his Terror Construct fall asleep.
It should be noted that the nature of 'The Construct' magic is typically immune to any mind-effect magic. Eisenhart was aware that the strength of the Terror Construct would match the target's perception, but he never anticipated that his construct, taking the form of Greed, would be weak to this extent.
Sure, Greed might be the weakest witch among the Seven Deadly Sins, but Eisenhart never thought she would be 'this' weak. A weakness that even the immunity typically gained by the Terror Construct proved vulnerable to a simple mind-effect magic, such as sleep.
The substance that transford into the construct loosened as the Terror Construct lost its power to control its body, reverting to its base form—a black-red, sli-like substance. The power it held over Sloth's mind imdiately broke, allowing her to regain her wits.
"Huh!?" Sloth exclaid, looking at the black substance on the ground. Now, she knew what had happened. The disgusting mage had dared to use her friend's form to make her see and hear what she feared the most—the disdain and disgust of her friend!
"You dare!!" Sloth's anger surged as her power began to manifest. Her magical energy gathered as her curse and will worked in tandem, with the sole objective of bringing ruin to the group of Hightower mages in front of her.
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