Warlock Apprentice - Chapter 643

Chapter 643: Greya’s Trouble

The art of Sorcery Array fell into the category of Illusions and was considered as a relatively powerful art. Those who wished to learn this skill had to be talented in both alchemy and magic arrays. This requirement alone had discouraged over 99% of all apprentices from attempting it.

In recent history, there were very few Illusionist apprentices in this region, which meant Sorcery Array users were very scarce.

But at the same time, those who did succeed in studying this art could easily benefit greatly.

Under the art of Illusion, there were two categories that were said to be able to create “world illusions”—the arts of Mirage and Sorcery Array.

A “world illusion” referred to certain illusions that contained a complete world inside. According to records, users of Mirage and Sorcery Array were the only ones who could do so.

However, a “world illusion” was not necessarily powerful. What it could achieve still depended on its user and how they applied it. In the right conditions, other types of illusions could easily surpass world illusions.

There were many wizards who considered the area of effect of illusions to be more important than their power. And when it came to the size an illusion could affect, world illusions were usually second to none.

Angor was not a complete stranger to this art. The “Field of Fire” he once learned was a Sorcery Array cantrip, used for harming foes in a large area.

“So this is why Master Prome can’t analyze it?” said Dave. He knew that Sorcery Array involved alchemy knowledge but had much more beyond this. “But this means it’s easy for you to find who created this thing. There aren’t many people who knew alchemy, magic array, and illusions at the same time. The Mirage Boxes are sold at several neighboring nations. The culprit isn’t too far.”

Angor nodded, but he wasn’t planning to go after this “culprit”. “Mister Prome said that a Mirage Box only cost like several dozen crystals. I checked, the raw material for crafting one should be about ten crystals. The net profit isn’t that much compared to other alchemy items.”

Dave quickly understood what Angor was implying. “Wizards all have their ways to earn quick money, yet this thing can only give him small turnovers. We’re not talking about a real wizard.”

“Besides,” Angor continued, “as far as I can see, the alchemy skill shown on this box isn’t superior. Whoever made this didn’t have a better choice.”

“A Sorcery Array apprentice who knows some basic alchemy skills, who lives not far. If we post a job at Bartterfly Pub, someone will help us find him in no time!” Dave grinned. “Let’s do it!”

Angor dragged him back. “Do what? What are we finding him for?”

“Well, he copied your idea and makes money out of it. We’re getting him under justice of course! At least we should get him to pay you… what did you call it, copyright royalty?”

“There’s no need.”

Dave looked very confused.

“The gain does not equal the time and effort we need to pay. Rather, I would use the chance to learn more knowledge,” said Angor.

Dave understood him but still looked unconvinced.

“Rest assured. Since I asked you about this item, I’m not going to totally neglect it.”

While it was true that Angor did not feel particularly angry, he did disdain such an act. He wouldn’t pursue the criminal immediately, but he had another plan.

He created his own “trademark” yesterday and had not shown it to anyone else. He wasn’t planning to get himself a world-renowned brand or anything like that, but at the very least, he would like people to recognize his work.

Earlier, he thought about requesting Mithra’s help to distribute his name among alchemists, but this wasn’t optimal as people might mainly consider his fame inflated because of Master Mithra.

But he just saw a better opportunity.

Inferiority was recognized via comparison. In the wizarding world, a man’s true capability always determined his achievements, and in this case, “genuine work” was always better than knock-offs.

The Mirage Boxes were becoming popular probably because people loved the innovation. In this case, Angor only had to distribute a new product that could surpass the Mirage Boxes in all aspects to let his name known.

His “original” music box was sold at Twilight Auction. If people needed to tell real from fake, they’d naturally go and ask someone from there.

Angor whispered his plan to Dave.

Dave widened his eyes and palmed his fist. “Nice one. You get to broadcast your fame AND destroy that filthy thief. Once your new item gets out, those who bought his Mirage Box will find him out and ask for a refund!”

Angor shushed him. “No no, I don’t want to ‘broadcast’ myself.”

Precisely speaking, Angor would like to do it in a “quiet” way and allow people to notice his ingenuity on their own. Now that sounded more awesome.

Dave chuckled. As Angor’s friend, he knew well about Angor’s modest yet somewhat competitive nature.

“Just leave it to me!” Dave thumped his chest.

“I’ll pay you of course. Let’s say, out of my total profit, you get 10% as commission.”

Dave had no problem accepting the job but quickly grew worried for some reason. “Hey, Angor, this all depends on the final quality and value of your new creation. I mean, it has to beat the Mirage Box thoroughly, or your plan will get you the opposite outcome.”

“Relax, you saw how my first music box did during Twilight Auction, didn’t you? And I learned something new recently… Time to put it to the test.”

Dave tilted his head but did not question what Angor’s “new trick” was. It wasn’t nice to question an alchemist’s secrets.

“Things said, there’s something about the Mirage Box that I really liked,” said Angor. “The music, he modified it and made it better than the original!”

“‘City of Sky’ is it?” Dave frowned. “Really? I didn’t notice anything different.”

Angor glanced at him but didn’t comment.

Dave frowned again. He felt as if he was looked down upon for having bad music senses.

“Ahem, come find me in The Tributary the day after tomorrow,” said Angor. “I’ll tell Iron Granny to let you in. That’s when I’ll finish my new item.”

Dave nodded and returned to Prome’s shop, while Angor flew toward Phantom Island.

…

There was a purple, extravagant-looking hut constructed out of magic, which was located beside a small lake in Sunders’ manor garden.

Greya’s temporary home.

Butler Goode already prepared a room for Greya inside the manor, but Greya rejected it and built her own hut.

Since she moved to Phantom Island, people had been spreading rumors that “Sunders might have found a new lover”. Of course, Greya was not the type to mind these rumors. Rather, she was glad that she got to cause minor troubles for Sunders. However, she still remained low-profile and avoided drawing too much attention since her strength was weakened greatly.

She had spent over half a month inside her hut.

Using an equally eye-catching pen decorated by starry charms, she was swiftly composing something on papers—symbols that facilitated her original Artificial Life spell.

She suddenly botched one of the symbols, rendering all the other calculations useless.

She rubbed her forehead and moaned impatiently, then tossed the crumpled paper into a dustbin.

“Geez…” She moved to her window and tried to calm her spirit by watching the tranquil lake outside.

But it didn’t work.

There were just so many things to worry about recently.

Although she did not show it, she was VERY frustrated after the incident in Sleepless City proved to her that she was weak. And this had put her in a dangerous situation in this world.

The other soul in her body, which was supposed to be the “rightful owner” of her current body, was beginning to wake up without Felicia’s magic wine. When that happened, the body would prevent Greya’s consciousness from showing up freely, which further added to her risk.

And there were workers of her restaurant who were either captured or on the run out there somewhere.

Compared to everything, her biggest concern was to retrieve her old body as fast as she could. She felt uneasier by the day since Sunders had not sent her any messages for a long time.

She sighed and glanced at the dustbin, which was full of discarded papers.

Ever since her Artificial Life spell helped her gain the title of a truth-finder, she never made much progress and never created any new spells successfully.

This was as big a problem as losing her body.

Her body guaranteed the foundation of her strength at the present, while new spells meant her future. There was no way she could stay calm when both her present and her future were obstructed.