Lord of Mysteries: Cuttlefish Connoisseurs

East Balam, Kolain city.

Some distance away from the city dotted with buildings laid on upwards spiralling paths, was an inconspicuous area functioning more like its own town. Most notably there was an underground path, with most of those walking down its dimly lit corridor, donning gentleman attires typically associated with Loenese.

The people simply squandered in, with rumbling sounds, and distant shouts and roars slowly making themselves known. A well lit hall soon opened, revealing men of all ages, roaring, applauding, mocking, and throwing stacks of cash to the ring below. The ring in question was rather small, with the audience being able to easily jump into it. However, what drew their attention and their primal desires was two men—one lean, and short with a buzz cut, clearly a native due to his darker skin tone, while the other was a tall, burly and rotund man, with thick sideburns, body scars and unique tattoos all over his body.

The two, bare chested, faced each other off, under the loud and excited cheers of the crowd, with most of them counting their cash, ready for more bets.

This was not only a popular gambling den within Kolain city; it also served as an underground fighting arena, presenting a popular pastime for men and women alike of middle and high society within this city.

It'd be nice if it were just that. Seated across the arena, spectating the match was a tanned, muscular man in an all-black mercenary attire. His deep dark curly hair, sharp features, and amber eyes made him stand out, especially given he looked like a native.

The Enigma—Azriel gave a scrutinising look at the ongoing fight, placing special focus on the lean contestant, who seemed like he'd disappear from one's sight at a moment's notice.

While the rich use this as a pastime, most of the fighters here, especially so for us natives, are often marred with debt that need to be repaid, or are slaves seeking freedom… Azriel turned to the rotund contestant who looked down with a bored expression at his opponent.

It's also a way for some to make a name for themselves. Or, to simply blow out steam. As he finished his inward remarks, the lean contestant moved with incredible speed around his opponent who just stood there, motionless.

Noticing this, or perhaps enraged by his opponent's nonchalant demeanour, the man with a buzz cut, rushed in, and making use of his smaller frame, he kicked towards a specific exposed area; his opponent's groin.

The man's grin however, vanished, as his leg was suddenly caught mid swing in the space of his tall opponent's knees. Though the later appeared bored and uninterested, his reactions were still lighting fast.

"You sure love using this leg in particular, don't you?" The rotund man's face morphed into a chilling smile, causing the lean man's face to lose all colour. Before he could react, the tall man placed a hand on his opponent's outstretched knee joint, while the other had a firm grip on his calf. The man then slapped down his hand, a gesture which was immediately followed by a deep crunch sound, which silenced the crowd.

The lean figure observed in shock as his opponent released his leg, which was now twisted at an impossible angle at the knee joint. Suddenly, the adrenaline rush faded as a wave of pain filled all his senses, causing him to tumble to the ground, and let out a blood-curdling scream. This reaction woke the crowd from their stupor as they erupted into roars of excitement, while a nearby referee who was actually in the audience as well, turned to the crowd.

"And we have a winner! Boooooone Crusher!"

This increased the cheers of the crowd as the Bone Crusher gave a smile at his opponent still writhing in agony. He soon turned to the crowd, and harshly struck his left chest, with his right hand, while roaring; a gesture which was reproduced by most of the crowd.

Azriel ignored all this, and instead watched as a number of people dragged the lean man, while providing no care to his injury.

With no modern medicine, and obviously no access to an apothecary or a "Doctor", that would be a significant turning point of his life. Azriel thought as he shook his head. Let's not even get to his psychological status; his wound might quickly develop into a serious infection, and may very well require amputation… And it's very likely he's one of those fighters who came in here with hopes of paying their debt, or even freeing themselves from the shackles imposed on them. All-in-all, his career as a fighter is over… Or so most will initially think.

His eyes causally examined the audience, spotting a few people talking to each other while looking at the man getting dragged away from the arena.

Desperate times often lead to Desperate moves. Azriel once more shook his head.

As a seasoned mercenary, and a Beyonder, he was somewhat familiar with the numerous factions "coexisting" in East Balam. Apart from the colonisers, various clandestine forces which included, most importantly the Rose School of Thought, and those believing in Death. With his meta knowledge, Azriel naturally knew this latter faction was the Numinous Episcopate.

Some of those of the Life School of Thought are associated with some of the Rose School of Thought through their belief in the Primordial Moon… Of course, the latter group mostly believes in the Mother Tree of Desire… The Indulgence faction that is.

And with the Apothecaries they possess, recruiting destitute people, especially following the war, has been especially easy. Their numbers have ballooned…

Hmm… I'd see if I can uncover something interesting from this, but first... Azriel got up from his seat, took off his tight shirt, throwing it at an edge of the ring. Some of the crowd noticed this, as they turned to observe him, a series of action which soon drew the Bone Crusher's attention.

"Oh? And look who we've got yer. Another contestant!" The announcer's words made the rest of the crowd examine Azriel who now nonchalantly stood within the ring at its edge.

The bone crusher smiled, and cracked his knuckles, and then his eyes narrowed as he focused on his opponent.

Oh? Azriel stared with a subtle raised brow, feeling mildly surprised his opponent assumed a more defensive and serious stance compared to his previous "fight."

You really shouldn't assume based on stereotypes. He noted as he soon began his analysis.

The Bone Crusher specialises in quick, excruciatingly painful finishes. Though, unlike the previous opponent, I rarely go for wide-arced attacks, and thus, he'll likely—no he'll definitely use his weight advantage.

While he performed his analysis, the bone crusher approached him with a slightly lowered back, amidst the roars and cheers of the crowd. Seeing this caused a smile to creep on Azriel's rough face.

Wait. Isn't this similar to that scene? Technically, I might be able to reenact it.

He controlled his excitement, and with the pressure and anticipation building up, Azriel made a move, making his opponent flinch. Right behind Azriel was his shirt he had initially thrown. He quickly grabbed it, and in a swift motion, threw it at his opponent, momentarily blinding him.

The Bone Crusher was quick to respond as he sent a blind jab, which was blocked and Azriel immediately followed with a cross to the opponent's left cheek. Like a machine, Azriel moved in and banged his fists to his opponent's ears, disorienting the man.

In his dazed state, the Bone Crusher attempted a wild haymaker which was blocked by Azriel's elbow, and the latter followed with a liver shot, causing the tall man to bend forward in pain. However, this was but a feint as he sent a punch to his opponent's left, but was nonchalantly blocked as Azriel elbowed the Bone Crusher's right jaw. His jaw couldn't relax as a mean left hook fractured it.

Two quick punches were landed on the Crusher's ribs, and stomach, before a third hit to the same right jaw was landed, completely dislocating it. As a finisher, Azriel sent his opponent flying with a heel kick to the upper abdomen, causing the crowd to stand in shock.

In just a few moments, the Bone Crusher's was completely destroyed, but this didn't matter to the audience as a wave of cheers erupted. Azriel at the centre of these cheers ignored them as he picked up his shirt, and then gave a final analysis to his opponent.

In summary: ears ringing, jaw fractured and dislocated, three ribs cracked—four broken, diaphragm haemorrhaging. Physical recovery: 6 weeks. Psychological recovery: possibly never.

He felt his lips curl at this, feeling the surreal atmosphere. However, his gaze quickly moved as he looked over, by the side of the collapsed Crusher—a tall man of Loenese descent with a robust physique but otherwise average features walked into the ring.

His appearance caused Azriel to freeze, before he let out a sigh. Just what are the chances…

Snake—Xavier Lewis stood with a smile before the Enigma—Azriel, ready to face him off.

…

A large mug containing white, smooth, frothy beer, was hit onto a table, with Azriel retracting his tanned hand from it and patting his facial bruises.

"You didn't need to be that harsh, Snake," He said in Dutanese observing his fellow "transmigrator"—Xavier across the table. The tall man chuckled lightly before taking a large gulp of his Southville beer, then let out a satisfied sigh.

"I've never felt this alive, and I'm sure some of you noticed it."

You don't say... Azriel inwardly remarked on Xavier's appearance three days ago during the gathering, and his current appearance overlapped in his mind. The former, while a bit over 183 cm, and having some meat on his bones, was still lower than the more robust man, standing at 188 cm before him.

His demeanour has changed too, Azriel mused as he leaned into his chair.

While to the audience back at the arena their fight appeared close, Azriel knew that he ultimately stood very little chance in the domain of an actual Warrior.

I deduced he was a normal human back then, especially given how Lab rat's casual instigation and passive charm was that effective… But now, given how much he changed in such a short time, and coupled with him participating in the underground fighting ring, he's very likely a Warrior.

Azriel subtly noted the silver necklace Xavier wore as he the turned to observe the corner of the bar they were in. It was a quaint one, with a few drunkards enjoying themselves with no care in the world, while a few like them relaxed to their out of tune songs.

The Enigma then fixed his gaze on Snake who silently peered at him. After some moments, Azriel let out a sigh, disengaging while saying, "I'm sure coincidences are a scary concept to you."

Xavier nodded in acknowledgment. While they, like the others, couldn't remember exactly why or who gave them this deep fear, they were still vividly aware of the meta awareness and the prophecy possessed by a sequence 1 Author—more specifically, the Quill of Alzuhod once displayed.

Xavier reflected for a moment, but wanting to clear the misunderstanding growing in his fellow "transmigrator", he gripped his necklace, and spoke. "A long life of seeing and hearing things you shouldn't, weighed heavily on me. While the occasional bouts of luck, or the analytic side I had developed were positives, they couldn't outweigh the danger."

A Lucky One? Azriel quickly deduced as he observed the necklace which gave him a strange feeling. It weighed heavily on him… Did he find a way to get rid of the characteristic?

As if reading his mind, Xavier elaborated. "I actually met Little Sun."

His response made Azriel's eyes widen in shock, while the tall man continued. "It was perhaps my biggest and most fortunate encounter. Naturally, it ended with me returning to being an average human."

He then let go of his necklace while looking down at his frothy drink. "Unfortunately, the aftermath of the war is still prevalent, with cultist running rampant in some places. It didn't take long for me to question this choice of mine."

A smile then formed on his face, as he added. "And that's essentially it. The summary of the life of an indecisive fuck, who's trying to make better choices this time around."

Azriel could feel the subtly poignant tone coming from his colleagues' words, and thus he changed topic. "I know Warriors have incredible physical prowess, but I'm uneducated on what else they possess." He then placed a hand on his chest, saying, "I'm a Detective by the way."

This time Xavier gave a genuine smile as the duo discussed the facets of their pathways. After the midday Sun began to make itself known, Azriel bid farewell to his friend, both knowing they'll likely meet once more at the underground fighting arena. One was to simply relax, while the other was to familiarise himself with his potion, and possibly digest it to an extent.

Still, a random meeting in the immense East Balam is unlikely. Maybe our connection to the Grey Fog? Convergence? Azriel pondered while walking down the streets, featuring a few coffins and people carrying said structures around. Unlike most places in the world, transportation in East Balam mostly occurred through the use of coffins, rather than carriages.

As he was somewhat used to this sight, Azriel didn't dwell on it, and soon reached an average residence. After knocking on the wooden door, with a metal visor, the visor soon moved, exposing cold eyes which examined Azriel who nonchalantly returned the gaze.

It didn't take long for the door to be unlocked as he entered the dimly lit room, with a few pieces of furniture, while the brown haired man who had opened the door spoke as he walked away. "You sure took your time."

Azriel ignored him, and instead turned his gaze to the one seated on one of the couches. A young man dressed in a white shirt and black vest, decked out with a flowery bow tie. His neatly combed hair was almost completely blond, with a few hair roots being black, while his lake green eyes examined Azriel with a smile.

Flowery bow tie Jodeson, Azriel instantly recognised the man, due to the combination of the bounty on his head as a popular pirate, but also due to his physical description he was familiar with.

Jodeson's eye pricked and with a smile, he said, "You know me?"

"Difficult not to show any reaction seeing such a large, floating and living bounty," Azriel casually replied as he took a seat opposite the man. Flowery bow tie nodded while he gave a quick glance at the brown-haired man leaning on the wall before returning to Azriel. "I'm sure his cryptic messages were getting annoying, but it was necessary for the test."

"Which you passed by the way."

Indeed. Azriel gave a subtle nod as he reviewed one of the questions that had perturbed him since "transmigrating."

Was there anything deeper to him successfully becoming a Detective?

As a mercenary veteran, he partook in a number of missions especially during the war. This saw him grow from a Reader to a sequence 8 Student of Retionicination. However, his situation leading to him becoming a Detective deeply unsettled him.

I chomped on a raw sequence 7 characteristic! He didn't know whether to laugh or cry when he had first "awoke" and realized this.

It was supposed to be a simple ruin exploration, however, the exploration team he was part of discovered a local tribe in the midst of performing a certain ritual. The aftermath of said ritual was most dying while he initially managed to escape, but he was still successfully tagged by the ritual performers. In the end he was used as a medium for a voodoo doll, which forcefully consumed what he now knew was a Detective beyonder characteristic. The ritual's main goal seemed to have being turning a suitable victim into a controllable monster.

However, I died from this, and when I woke up, they had all disappeared. Quite spooky, isn't it? But I knew it was far from over. Not to mention how soon after I saw that guy, Azriel inwardly remarked as he eyed the man leaning on the wall. Who I eventually suspected was likely an agent of the Church of Knowledge. They're the most probable candidate, given a Detective beyonder characteristic can't just be easily found around here..

Also, the sequence 4 of the White—Reader path is the Prophet. Maybe they anticipated someone special would enter that ruin?

Azriel shook his head as he returned his gaze to the flowery bow tie. And now, with Edwina Edwards's third mate who came here to meet me, it's definitely that church.

As he was somewhat familiar with the style of the church of knowledge and wisdom, which involved letting those interacting with them to seek out answers on their own, Azriel didn't bother questioning Jodeson on the background of the group of natives who used him as a test subject. Instead, he let out a sigh and spoke in a low tone. "You want to turn me into an informant for the church?"

Jodeson's smile grew hearing this as he mentioned. "Exactly. The church's resources weren't wasted I see." His countenance soon changed into a more serious one as he continued. "Though make no mistake. You're just one of many who were offered this opportunity. If you were instead deemed unworthy, your reward for having bothered you would've been obvious."

Become a Detective… Azriel nodded in understanding as Jodeson got up and walked to the door. Before opening it, he said in a mysterious tone. "Also, the potion's name is deeper than initially believed."

The acting method!? Azriel tried his best to control his shock as Jodeson exited the permise, while the brown-haired man let out a scoff, while moving deeper into the room. "Use your skills to figure out our main hideout in the city."

His disdainful words didn't bother Azriel as the latter was still shocked by the previous reveal. He just hinted at the acting method, didn't he? Was the church of Knowledge always so generous? No, it can't be simple…

The Enigma was well aware of how guarded the acting m noethod was within official factions.

Hmm… Things have changed though. The apocalypse is fast approaching, and the "invader's" reach will continue to deepen. This will force the hand of the official factions, who should now be focusing on increasing the quality and quantity of their own members… This reasoning will indeed explain why I could stumble on a situation which culminated with me becoming a Detective.

The Southern Continent is chaotic and very suitable for the growing factions worshipping and following the will of the "invader's." To combat this, the officials and possibly even some secret organisations will deepen their influence in this continent.

And of course, if you want to recruit a quality informant, a native who is familiar with the "underworld" of the region is a perfect candidate. Azriel closed his eyes, reaching this thought.

This was possibly the perfect opportunity for him, who yearned to rise through the sequence, and turn into a vigilante who will scale up the societal ladder with his own hands.

A cliché goal of course, but everyone needs to dream big don't they? Azriel let out a chuckle as he moved out of the apartment.

His eyes casually examined the streets, seemingly being able to see through the undercurrents existing within.

The Enigma had made his choice.

…

While the city of Backlund was now somewhat illuminated by the midday sun, the Haagenti plains of the Southern Continent was only now greeted by the light of dawn. Within a small mining town located about a hundred kilometres from a local primitive forest, were the now awakened citizens. The crowd—a mix of natives and people from the Northern continent immediately grew busy, some opening their businesses, while others were haggling and cursing each other in broad dawnlight.

A cloaked figure, concealing his well tailored suit and handsome features moved through the crowd, occasionally stopping before some street vendors. In record time, the figure held a nice serving consisting of: some savoury cornbread, cheese, meat and vegetable filled pastries, and a cup filled with a creamy caramel spread made from milk and sugar.

I simply cannot resist the temptation. Noblesse—Zayas inwardly commented as he passed through a number of alleyways, soon reaching an inconspicuous door, which he went through.

Yes, he went right through the closed door, entering his small rented room.

He then placed his breakfast on a low table, while removing his hood which revealed long, untamed, but somewhat sticky straight black hair. Zayas exhaled as a cold wind brushed the entire room, properly ventilating all its corners.

A Trickmaster's spells might be weak in combat, but they've insane utility. The Astrologer thought with a smile as he sat on his small bed, but then paused examining his hair and clothes.

Damn… Haven't showered in three, no more like five days. And of course this apartment only has communal baths. No way I'm using that…

Zayas thought with a frown as he removed his cloak, exposing his somewhat clean suit. The past week had been especially hectic for him.

It all started because I stole that damned potion formula, Noblesse recalled his theft of a Traveler's formula, an operation he had long planned to execute. As a low level scrub of the Door branch of the Tamara family, his chances of becoming a mid sequence Beyonder was close to none. However, with the war, many factions participated for a variety of reasons, and naturally this included his family.

Of course, they needed more cannon fodder, hence why I could become an Astrologer in the first place. Zayas thought as he bit into his cornbread while taking a sip of his creamy and warm concoction. At first, his numerous fortuitous encounters in the war ignited his hidden ambition of becoming an immortal angel, like the ancient history of his family described, but that hope was shattered after the war.

Naturally, I went back to being a slightly higher scrub. Zayas shook his head as he rubbed his deeply inscribed dark ring on his index.

This infuriated him, but also brought a wave of despair as he knew how fragile even mid sequence beyonders were in the face of true demigods. Left with no choice and hope, he stole a Traveler potion formula, and became a fugitive of the family. Naturally, he was repeatedly pursued by an actual Traveler.

If that weirdo didn't gift me this, I would've already perished. His hands moved to a golden bracelet on his forearm. This was a traveler mystical item which allowed him to directly teleport to specific coordinates within a certain region.

Unfortunately, it doesn't last forever… Well, at least I escaped them. Zayas smiled as he finished his cornbread and recalled his death.

Stealing from senior Astrologers was naturally not an easy feat, and not even two days after he stole the potion formula, he died from an elusive curse, which he later surmised was ingrained deep within him the moment he set sight on his target.

Leaving a few days, and making me believe I actually succeeded, only to ruthlessly extinguish my hopes. How twisted!

Zayas shook his head as he continued on to his meal.

He, of course, wasn't a complete Fool, and thus, he secretly contacted some members of the opposite and rival branch of the family—the Justiciar branch for aid. This aid came in the form of a Judge who gifted him the Traveler's bracelet among other things, and told him to eventually get to this mining city.

I doubt Lloyd didn't know I'll be cursed, which means they had low expectations of me escaping. Zayas smile grew at this. But lo and behold, a true miracle occurred and yours truly is back!

Plus, I wasn't entirely helpless against that stupid Joefrey. His eyes paused at his ring, before he finished his drink and pastries, and laid on his bed.

However, he couldn't close his eyes as his spiritual intuition was triggered, causing him to look at his now opened door from which a chestnut-haired short man walked in, closing the door behind him. This action caused the background noise from outside to vanish, as if the room was now completely isolated from the world.

The chestnut-haired man smiled as his grey eyes examined Zayas. However, the latter turned into a short staff while a golden charm burned in his original place.

"Door Opening is Prohibited here!" A majestic voice resonated, well beyond the confines of the room, destroying the set isolation made with distortion.

The intruder narrowed his eyes at this as he made use of the now broken isolation he had previously created, and snapped his finger. His form immediately appeared from a burning matchstick, four hundred metres away from the apartment room amidst the bewildered crowd in the middle of the road.

However, his eyes darkened as starlight appeared within it. His surroundings soon broke and fell apart, revealing Zayas's apartment room.

He had never moved. It was all a dream!

The room instantly exploded in white flames as a number of delayed explosions were triggered, covering every corner. Strangely, the explosion didn't extend further to the neighbouring apartment rooms.

A number of crude paper figurines were burned to a crisp with the flames, however, the intruder wasn't bothered by it.

He never even stepped into the room!

About five hundred metres away was the same chestnut-haired man, observing the town from a simple balcony. His brows pricked sensing his blinked version getting destroyed by a wave of explosions.

The man moved slightly, but then, a blazing white sword flew at him with insane speeds, piercing right through his face. However, his headless body changed into stacks for illusory doors, while the sword was relentless in its pursuit, destroying door after doors aiming for the real intruder.

Unfortunately, its momentum was completely halted by a large and very real door which appeared before the terrified chestnut-haired intruder. The sword morphed into the lanky Zayas who retreated, and jumped over the balcony they were on, while his ring, now a bright colour, enveloped him in white flames which turned him into a flaming sword that dashed away.

As he did so, white ravens flew to the tangible and deeply inscribed door, aiming to destroy it.

Zayas, as a flaming sword, didn't care for this as he flew through the skies, but then abruptly returned to his human form, and landed with a roll on the coarse ground. Before he could wonder what happened, he felt the cold wind brush his right index finger. Instinctively, he looked at the deep ringed shaped depression on his finger, but spotted no ring on it.

His ring had been stolen.

About a kilometre away, a dark shadow fiddled with the equally dark in colour ring in its hand. The shadow, however, greatly dimmed, threatening to vanish as a loud and imposing voice sounded all throughout and beyond the mining city.

"Mystery Weaken, Reality Strengthened!"

As soon as the voice sounded, the shadow vanished, while the chestnut-haired intruder who was blinking to Zayas also disappeared.

Zayas naturally realised this as he felt all his Beyonder powers vanish, but that didn't stop him from looking in the general direction where he last felt his ring.

I need to get it—Suddenly a wave of euphoria rushed through Noblesse's body, causing his desires to surge. Then, it immediately faded, as a wave of depression hit him.

… Mental Plague!? Zayas could barely form a thought as he felt all his mental facilities being eaten away. The previous verdict didn't affect the hidden mental plague, as it was a disease from one's self. In fact, the verdict greatly strengthened its effects as it could be considered a natural phenomena.

From atop a hill overlooking the city, a stern, and mature woman, wearing luxurious golden robes, let her curly silver hair sway with the wind, as her grey eyes pierced through the stunned crowd, fixing on Zayas' now agitated figure. Her eyes changed to a golden hue as she extended a palm, declaring, "Exile."

Suddenly, a translucent seed was thrown out of Zayas's head, and then immediately combusted.

The mental plague was not only exiled from his body; it was also executed on the spot!

The woman's gaze lingered on Zayas who breathed in shock while on the ground, and was soon approached by a youth with similar features as her. She then looked well beyond the city, and spotted an area along some swamps. A wave of distortion occurred in the surroundings as a chestnut-haired tall man with a moustache suddenly appeared. As if noticing her gaze, he turned to her and then gave a deep gentlemanly bow which was interrupted as his neck twisted and cracked while his body hovered from the ground.

The man was immediately sentenced to death by hanging for trespassing into an Imperative Mage's territory!

However, his figure faded away causing the woman to shake her head with a sigh. A Historical projection, huh? You even made your spawn record it, as well as a Bizzaro Sorcerer's flaming jump.

Her eyes returned to Zayas who was now supported by the man who looked like her, and was led towards the hill where she stood. The woman motioned her hand as Zayas's ring which was over a kilometre away was immediately confiscated by her.

A Reaper sealed artefact? The woman nodded, while the ring in question trembled in her hand. Clearly this sealed artefact had living characteristics, and was currently being extremely docile due to her imposing presence.

While overlooking her son bringing over Zayas, the woman went into thought. Jared concealed his and his son's body "some" distance away, and let their historical projections do the job.

While Jared's projection hid in the void on the outskirts of the town, Joefrey's own moved into it, and from a distance, let a blink version of himself which he had recorded from his father ambush that Door branch benefactor. However, the latter had some tricks himself.

Her gaze focused on Zayas, and then at the ring in her hand. This kid probably obtained it in the war… Hmm, the war benefited quite a few. For example, Jared was said to have even ambushed and bullied a Bizzaro Sorcerer of the Secret Order… The fact that his son had a corresponding recorded power proves this.

She then let out a sigh, while moving down the hill. If only Jared had also brought his wife here. I'd have sent them a "gift" by completely invalidating Mysticism… All their tricks are nothing in the face of an Imperative Mage within their territory.

Though, I'm sure he still got the message…

Some distance away, down the hill, Zayas who now walked along the young man, turned to him and asked in a concerned tone. "Lloyd, you're certain she has my ring?"

Lloyd with his short silver hair sported a genuine smile as he responded in a calm manner. "For the fifth time, Zayas, yes. Mother is very efficient." He gave a look at his mother who was approaching them, and then returned his grey eyes to Noblesse who looked pale due to the previous mental plague.

After some moments, he said, "You've quite the repertoire. It seems like I've greatly underestimated you."

Zayas didn't answer as he instead focused on the last fight. Dammit, those were my last recorded spell pages... He felt a pinch at the dream spell and staff substitution he had used at the start of the fight. Naturally, he didn't just steal a Traveler potion formula.

Noblesse shook his head, but then shivered at the thought of losing his priced ring as well as the feeling of the mental plague which had eaten at his mind. Damn. Joefrey indeed has a Dad who's a Secret Sorcerer… I'm guessing the dad somehow stole my ring, and then discreetly planted a mental plague at the same time? Dammit again… A Secret Sorcerer is op!

His bright green eyes then moved to the silver haired woman dressed in golden, luxurious robes. He averted her powerful gaze while thinking. Two demigods ended up getting involved in my plot? What the hell!? I'm just a sequence 7!

Though, it could be for another reason… Just what did I get myself into.