029 The Prophet
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Roland glanced at Anna beside him and thought to himself, “The party must have gone deeper into the ruins. The passage narrowed, so the mentor put Anna into the wallet.”
Anna’s appearance banished all traces of sleepiness from Roland. He dared not wake the tigress, so he rose from his bedroll and went to the table to eat.
Roland was starving. Yesterday, he had eaten only a little dried food in the carriage. This was his first meal today.
The eight bottles of potions on the table were gone, and the commotion outside the wallet had grown louder. The party seemed to be resting somewhere within the ruins.
After eating, Roland took a bucket outside to relieve himself. He also listened to the sounds above and found that nothing noteworthy had happened to the party. He then sat on the bed and began reading Aleye’s Notes.
[Roland]
[Realm: Low-Rank Wizard Apprentice (56/1000)]
[Abilities: Advanced Valeria Swordsmanship (5/1000), Apprentice-Level Alchemy: Beginner (16/1000)]
[Cantrips: Telepathy III (6/1000), Fluorescence II (89/100), Electric Arc II (26/1000)]
[Magic: Modified Chain Lightning II (26/1000), Psychic Blast (2/100)]
[Holy Mark (Passive): Flame of Dawn (1/100)]
[Forbidden Art: Forbidden Beginner Transformation (1/100)]
Roland thought to himself, “There are too many zeros. It is so easy to misread them. A percentage display would be much clearer.”
The spellbook seemed to sense Roland’s thoughts and changed the progress displays to percentages.
“Just as expected of a fine book!”
Roland was secretly delighted. He checked his alchemy proficiency.
After using the last half of his materials to brew potions yesterday, he had succeeded once and produced eight small bottles. His Apprentice-Level Alchemy: Beginner proficiency had increased by only eight points.
It seemed that as an ability’s rank increased, both its proficiency ceiling and the requirements for raising it became higher.
“Two bottles of Siren’s Kiss should be enough for me,” Roland thought. “I wonder when the party will reach its destination... I should use this time to improve my magic.”
After his mentor had ordered him to brew a hundred bottles of potion, Roland had developed an intense sense of danger.
His instincts told him that this feeling did not come from his mentor. It came from the ruins.
“The monsters in the ruins all come from the Abyss. If there is any magic that would be especially effective against them... it can only be the Flame of Dawn. And if there is any spell that can save my life... it can only be Psychic Blast.”
Since his mentor had not yet gone to sleep, Roland did not intend to practice the Flame of Dawn. Instead, he found A Brief Discussion of Psychic Magic and began studying it.
Roland started dismantling the spell known as Psychic Blast and repeatedly reconstructing its model within his mental world.
Strictly speaking, this process amounted to repeatedly casting a weakened version of Psychic Blast on himself.
Thus, as he continued dismantling and reconstructing psychic spells, both Roland’s mental power and his psychic defenses would improve.
Although these attributes were not yet displayed in the book, Roland could feel that his mind was being tempered.
Several hours later, Roland’s spirit sank into exhaustion, while Psychic Blast had risen only to twelve points.
“I can’t continue. I’ve reached my limit...”
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Roland had still oversimplified Psychic Blast in his imagination.
In theory, advancing from Level One to Level Two should have been the easiest stage. But Psychic Blast originated from the Lower World and was far too unusual.
Every time Roland dismantled and reconstructed the spell’s model—effectively casting it on himself—he consumed a tremendous amount of mental energy. As a result, he could not practice Psychic Blast many times each day. Without ten days or half a month, the spell would be unable to advance to the next stage.
Roland listened to the sounds outside and discovered that his mentor seemed to have fallen asleep.
Once again, his gaze turned toward the Flame of Dawn.
“It would be best to have a target when practicing the Flame of Dawn,” he thought. “I’ll use a Level One Electric Arc to carry the power of the Flame of Dawn and practice with it.”
With a sharp crackle, a tiny electric arc flashed into existence in Roland’s hand and flew toward a small mosquito buzzing above Anna’s head.
If one looked closely at the electric arc Roland had released, one would notice that it was not its normal color. A faint golden hue ran through it.
When the arc struck the mosquito, the insect suddenly burst into sparks. The sparks vanished in an instant. Unless one observed carefully, one would never notice that the flames were slightly different in color from ordinary fire.
After several attempts, Roland released an entirely different electric arc.
The arc was pale blue the instant it left his hand, but after striking its target, it suddenly turned pale gold.
If the mosquito had been an enemy, it would probably have assumed, upon seeing the arc released, that it was merely an ordinary spell and would not have bothered to dodge. Yet the moment the spell struck, the Flame of Dawn would be added to it. By the time the enemy realized what had happened, it would already be burning with the Flame of Dawn.
After practicing for a while, Roland flipped through Aleye’s Notes and discovered that training by using Electric Arc first and the Flame of Dawn afterward produced better proficiency gains.
He glanced at the clock and calculated the time.
“I have half the night to practice before my mentor wakes.”
Roland seized the opportunity and began practicing Electric Arc combined with the Flame of Dawn.
After several dozen attempts, Roland’s mana was depleted. He consumed a Mermaid Fruit and entered a meditative state.
When his meditation ended, Roland resumed practicing.
By then, almost all the mosquitoes in the surrounding area were gone.
When Roland killed the last particularly brazen mosquito—one that had been clearly visible in flight—he suddenly felt as though he had gained a new understanding of the Flame of Dawn.
Roland opened Aleye’s Notes.
[Mark (Passive): Flame of Dawn II (0/1000)]
[Mark Description: Omitted]
[Effect: +2 Holy Damage (True Damage)]
Looking at the two points of true damage, Roland inexplicably felt the sense of danger in his heart diminish sharply.
Yet an indescribable unease still lingered within him.
“A wizard’s intuition is always extremely sharp,” Roland thought. “I have a feeling I will have to face something formidable... There are so many powerful people in the party. I am merely a lowly apprentice. It shouldn’t come down to me... So why do I feel this unease?”
His instincts told him that a brutal battle awaited him.
He did not know what he would ultimately have to face, but no matter how much one relied on others, in the end, one still had to rely on oneself. Every additional measure of strength meant another chance of survival.
Roland checked the time and estimated that the people outside would soon awaken. He therefore stopped practicing the Flame of Dawn.
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“Four days have passed since we entered Fernwood.”
The party had spent one day traveling through Fernwood, while Roland had spent two days brewing potions inside the wallet.
Now, after sleeping and practicing, another day had passed... Four days had gone by since they entered Fernwood. Three of those days had been spent traveling through the ruins.
No matter how vast the ruins were, they should have entered the central region by now.
Roland listened carefully to the sounds outside and was surprised to discover that everyone was still there: his mentor, the baron, Nall, Anna, Wallace, the two newcomers, Reynard... The party had suffered no casualties.
The past three days seemed to have gone unusually smoothly. The party had not even encountered a single monster, which was extremely strange. It was almost as though a group of invisible people had helped them deal with every monster along the way.
Roland remembered that Aleye’s Notes could record certain events related to him. He decided to examine the notes and find out what had happened to the party over the past few days.
After carefully reading through Aleye’s Notes, Roland discovered that it recorded not only everything he had personally seen and heard, but also certain events that had occurred while he was unconscious.
Before long, he learned the rules of the “Suffering” game from a conversation between his mentor and the baron. He also learned why his mentor had inserted several apprentices into the party.
But if increasing the party’s numbers could prevent the main members from suffering, shouldn’t more people have been added?
Why had the party brought only a few apprentices to serve as support staff?
“Someone suffers at fixed intervals...”
Roland frowned. “How long is the interval between each episode of suffering? Four days have passed, and not a single person is missing?”
He repeatedly reread the earlier sections of the book and repeatedly considered the composition of the party.
Gradually, his expression grew darker and darker.
He discovered two things.
First, the party had not consisted solely of these people. There had been others, but they had suffered—and everyone had forgotten them.
Catherine had already suspected this much.
But Roland had reached a conclusion that no one else had imagined.
He closed the book. His face was pale as he said, “The Evil God is in our party. It joined us only after we entered the ruins! Yet everyone believes it joined us at the entrance to Fernwood!”
“It created an identity for itself. It created a past!”
“Even I was deceived by it for a time and took it for one of our companions!”
Roland was right.
The werewolf—the Evil God—was in the party, and Roland was the first prophet the werewolf intended to kill.
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