"The most important matter has been discussed," Tower Master Hugo’s entire deanor had clearly relaxed a great deal, "I have so nice things here I’d like to share with you."
"Nice things, you say? Then bring them out and let’s have a look!"
Annan’s eyes lit up as he half-jokingly encouraged Hugo.
Hugo and the Soul Reaping Monk belonged to the sa era. Although he appeared to be a young man in his early twenties, in reality he was probably around seventy or eighty.
Considering Tower Master Hugo’s discernnt, if he was specifically ntioning sothing to Annan at this ti, it was very likely an extraordinary treasure that would be rare anywhere else.
Although Annan wasn’t too interested in his legacy—after all, he was "bricked into" the Heath Tower of Black in his twenties, lived a life without children, and in the end, all his legacy had to be left to Salvatore.
What was ant for Salvatore, Annan could basically get his hands on.
"Indeed, it’s sothing good."
These weren’t Hugo’s words.
A sowhat unfamiliar yet vaguely familiar voice rose from outside the door.
As the "elevator" door opened, a tall young man with white hair and green eyes erged from the transparent tube.
His creamy white curly hair gave off a soft impression, and the erald pupils were reminiscent of a cat’s gaze. Instead of the Heath Tower of Black’s signature "black and red" robe, he was wearing a pure white, tailored outfit, which made one think of princes from fairy tales.
A pure white jacket, pure white tailored pants, pure white boots—it seed as though his entire being was aglow. Except for a few silver runes embroidered on him, the only other decorations were the plentiful gemstones hanging on his collar, around his waist, and on his right sleeve cuff.
All were made of thin slices of erald, the edges even specifically smoothed out, resembling a type of brooch.
Triangles, squares, pentagrams, hexagrams, heptagrams—using these five shapes as templates, nurous gemstone slices as thin and the size of a milk piece dangled on fine silver chains.
He sounded like a living wind chi.
Whenever he walked, he would produce a clear clinking sound.
Annan recognized the young man’s face after a few seconds and suddenly realized, "You are... Lord Isaac?"
This was one of the trophies he had received from him during the confrontation with the Soul Reaping Monk.
Taken from the grave of the world’s first transformation wizard, Nicholas’s ntor and foster father, the "Jade Record" Isaac Flal’s thought-form—used by the Soul Reaping Monk to construct an artificial spiritual body.
"’The true soul of the ’Jade Record’ has long since dissipated," Isaac explained. "I am but a false pretense. I possess part of the forr ’Jade Record’ Isaac Flal’s mories, filled with many eroded souls... nothing more than a cotton-stuffed human skin doll.
"It just so happens that this ridiculous puppet is still of so use to soone. And thanks to Mr. Hugo’s skillful hands, I am barely clinging to life in this world..."
Isaac harshly assessed himself, "Fortunately, the wizard who made my body was rather adept. I don’t end up living too unpleasantly."
He sat unceremoniously with one leg crossed on Hugo’s desk.
Looking at Annan, Isaac felt sowhat nostalgic for a mont, "Seeing Your Majesty reminds of Miss Paper Princess..."
"You’ve t Paper Princess too?"
Annan looked up at Isaac, who was now seated at the corner of the desk to his right.
"Yes, I admire her."
Isaac smiled and his tone softened a bit, "But I really have no talent for the arts. So that’s all it is—admiration."
"...I have a question."
Annan paused for a mont before asking softly, "Sir Isaac... Are you here of your own free will?"
"Don’t call sir. I’m not Sir Isaac Flal. I am rely a puppet with so of his mories."
Isaac stretched out his index finger, placing it in front of his lips.
His lips curled into a charming smile, "I’ve nad myself Isaac the Second—has kind of a déjà vu feel, doesn’t it?"
"...You seem quite spirited."
Annan was a bit helpless.
"Of course, doing odd jobs at the Heath Tower of Black is certainly better than living under the Soul Reaping Monk. It’s not as muddleheaded, and I get to do so trivial research... read books, tinker with chanisms."
Isaac sighed, "Ti really flies. A little over a hundred years ago, I was the wisest man in the world... Now, it seems I can’t even compare to those children."
After finishing his sentence, he organized his thoughts before quietly speaking, "Of course, I volunteered to stay. To be precise, I ca to request from Tower Master Hugo to purchase a ’vessel’ capable of containing my soul."
Isaac revealed a smile tinged with lancholy and solitude.
"...Although it’s aningless. I still hope to repay my son... to make up for sothing to Nicholas."
He liked to call his adopted son Nicholas by the na Nicola.
Sir Isaac, like Tower Master Hugo, had no children of his own.
Or rather, many Tower Masters are the sa—the Wizard’s Towers select them as heirs not just for their intellect and talent. Passion, perseverance, determination... these, too, are considered parts of talent.
To repay Nicholas’s debt...
Annand reflected thoughtfully.
"After you finish this month’s lessons and have administered tests to the children, follow His Majesty Annan for the ti being."
Hugo commanded the golem nad "Isaac the Second."
Then, he explained to Annan, "The inheritance of the Heath Tower of Black isn’t completed overnight. He should need a long period of spirit sleep... at least half a month. By then, I will already be dead.
"And Isaac the Second, he has the authority of a senior teacher and can utilize the resources of the Heath Tower of Black during this ti; he is also a ’Jade Record’ of Gold-tier profession, capable of protecting you and the Heath Tower of Black, as well as teaching Saul how to use the ’Fla Pilferer’ abilities.
"If you need a trustworthy transformation wizard, you might consider asking Isaac. He is not the true Sir Isaac, so you need not feel any undue pressure... you have no objections, do you?"
The last sentence was Hugo turning his head to inquire of Isaac.
Isaac, with a smiling expression, replied, "Of course not... I am honored.
"His Majesty Annan looks like a good kid. I would not let anyone harm him, not even at the cost of this illusory life."
He said it with absolute certainty.
It was not rely an oath of courtesy or ritual.
Annan couldn’t help but take a breath and purse his lips.
Was it an illusion?
It always felt like Mr. Isaac’s initial favor toward him was slightly too high...
"There’s one last thing... It’s this."
Tower Master Hugo spoke in a low voice.
The slender shadow bent down and took Annan’s hand, gently placing an odd gem in it.
At the mont it touched his hand, Annan suddenly received a prompt:
[Detected an unpurified Nightmare Shard]
[Level Requirent: Silver-tier]
[Profession Requirent: Must possess a Wizard profession]
[Special Requirents: Must master Soul Reaping spells, own a spiritual body servant]
[Requirents t, entering nightmare in ten seconds, ten, nine...]
Aannan imdiately set it down on the table.
—He recognized it at a glance for what it was.
Indeed, it was the right eye of the "Soul Container Monk" Bernadino—not a fleshy eyeball, but a spherical gem set within the eye socket.
"This is Bernadino’s nightmare."
Hugo said in a low voice, "I apologize for my slip of the tongue. This nightmare has a special attribute; I cannot enter this Twisted Tier nightmare... I can only reduce its difficulty significantly through a special skill. Now, even if you fail the nightmare, it will not cause any damage—this is the limit of what I can do."
"It’s fine... rather, it’s better this way."
Annand curved his lips slightly upward, "I prefer exploring nightmares by myself. It makes understand their lives better.
"I have always believed that the purifiers of nightmares... are the tombstones inscribed with the deceased’s life story. I am willing to be such a tombstone."
Reviews
All reviews (0)