Chapter 141 - 140: Sacred Land of Creation

Chapter 141: Chapter 140: Sacred Land of Creation

Fevik’s surprise didn’t end there.

After Hesia recounted the bizarre chase from last night in detail, the Half-Elf mentor repeatedly sized up her apprentice.

"Let me get this straight," she said, putting down her half-eaten Pear Tart and gesturing with her pinky. "The moment you ran into those idiots, you used [Assessment Skill] and saw that the unlucky guy with the brandy nose was only level 7 before he died?"

Hesia, who was busy tackling a Rose Layer Cake, nodded vaguely. "That’s right."

"That’s strange..." Fevik’s eyes twinkled with excitement. "Setting aside whether it has a will of its own, a level 7 creature has a clear ceiling on its Attributes. As a human, even if his Attributes were mediocre, there’s still a bottom limit. His agility couldn’t have been that high."

"But this is the guy who, after becoming a skeleton, could leap two or three meters into the air? So high that even your dog couldn’t catch him, and he even escaped from a Quasi-Professional?" Her speech grew faster and faster. "I’m no expert in the Necromancy School, but I understand the basic principles."

"An Undead creation’s base Attributes come from its previous life, supplemented by an extra boost from the Caster’s Magic Power. The bonus from this Magic Wand is certainly not weak, but it’s nowhere near enough to cause a level 7 skeleton to undergo such a... a transformation that defies all common sense about Undead Creatures." She rubbed her chin, her eyes growing brighter. "Could it be... that you, my boy, have some special talent for the Necromancy School?"

Hesia swallowed the cake in his mouth, realizing with some exasperation that his teacher’s focus was always so peculiar.

’And her attitude toward the Necromancy School seems... surprisingly open-minded?’

’Then again, if that weren’t the case, she wouldn’t have deliberately kept the [Reanimated Corpse] spell from the Demon Ghost Witch on this Magic Wand.’

Fevik saw the confusion and hesitation on Hesia’s face and waved her hand impatiently. "Don’t get hung up on such silly things. The better your talent, the happier I am as your teacher. As for the Necromancy School..."

"Sure, there are plenty of folks whose brains have been fried by Holy Light who oppose it, but I’ve always believed that Magic itself has no concept of good or evil. A knife can be used to prepare dinner or to slit a throat. Is that the knife’s fault?"

"Still, people who excel at the Necromancy School are rare. I’ve heard that only those born with a natural affinity for Negative Energy can truly master it. Another theory is that it’s related to the Caster’s own soul strength or special characteristics."

Hesia figured he probably didn’t have a natural affinity for Negative Energy—the eerie green energy that had poured from the Magic Wand yesterday must have been Negative Energy, and he hadn’t felt anything special when it touched him.

But the mention of a "soul" made his heart skip a beat. ’Could it... be related to my identity as a Transmigrator?’

"Let’s put that aside for now," Fevik interrupted his thoughts. "I don’t have any Necromancy spells to teach you anyway. Those obscure spells can usually only be learned from Skill Scrolls, and no shop dares to sell such things."

"As for your skeleton’s abnormal behavior, I don’t have a clue. Perhaps it was affected by some unexpected external influence," she said, changing the subject to comfort him. "And not giving it orders isn’t entirely your fault. It was my negligence as a teacher for forgetting to remind you of such basic knowledge. Fortunately, it doesn’t seem to have caused any major disaster."

"And don’t worry too much about those Saint Sun Church folks. As far as I know, most of those guys in white tin cans just like to run their mouths and strike a righteous pose. In a couple of days, they’ll probably forget the whole thing and toss the memory in a gutter."

Although he wasn’t sure if he was truly gifted in the Necromancy School, Hesia’s primary goal for now was still to raise the Magic Levels of the few spells related to advancing to a Professional.

However, the skeleton’s astonishing agility and bizarre behavior lingered in his mind.

’If I can figure out what happened to that skeleton and understand the root of its power mutation, wouldn’t the Undead Creatures I create be able to display effects that surpass their strength in life?’

"Oh, right," Fevik said as if she’d just remembered something. "In a couple of days, I’m heading to Fernandez City to see an old friend. I’ll be back in about a month. While I’m gone, you should practice those three spells properly."

As she spoke, she pointed to the door leading to the basement.

"Also, that Zor in the basement—bring him some food every few days."

!

Only then did Hesia suddenly remember that the Zor Elf author named Trist was still "kidnapped" in the basement by his teacher.

Remembering how he had "sold him out" without a second thought, Hesia couldn’t help but feel a little guilty.

"What does he want to eat? Should I... just take it straight down to him?"

"He said he wants to eat goblins," Fevik answered casually. "Just go to the Gray Mist Forest, catch a few live ones, and toss them into the basement for him. He’ll pay you."

She saw through Hesia’s little anxieties and added, "Don’t worry, he won’t take it out on you. You don’t actually think I forcibly kidnapped him, do you?"

"You didn’t?" Hesia asked, looking completely lost.

Fevik rolled her eyes dramatically. "I just went to hurry him up with an update for that stupid novel of his! At the time, I thought I’d bring him over to see my basement, ’motivate’ him a little, and then send him back. I warned him that if he didn’t hand over the manuscript, I’d lock him up in this dark, gloomy place."

"Afterward, I was going to send him back—after all, I figured he wouldn’t be able to write anything good in an environment that lacked ’inspiration’."

"Who would’ve thought he’d fall in love with the place as soon as he got here? Said the basement environment made his inspiration explode and refused to leave, no matter what."

Hesia was speechless for a moment. "...Then why didn’t you tell me before?"

"Well," Fevik said, grinning slyly like a child who’d pulled off a prank, "I saw that cautiously imaginative look on your face and found it so amusing that I decided to keep it a little secret for a while."

"By the way, I’ve never locked the basement door. He can wander wherever he likes. But, well, the guy says he’s a bit allergic to sunlight these days and prefers to hole up in his ’creative sanctuary’."

...

Filled with a hint of curiosity, Hesia stepped onto the stairs leading to the basement.

The stairs spiraled downward. He walked for several minutes without seeing the end, the only light coming from the occasional glowing stones set far apart on the walls.

’Just how deep is this basement?’ Right as he was beginning to wonder if the stairs led to the center of the earth, a heavy wooden door finally appeared before him.

He pushed open the wooden door, and the sight before him was so unexpected he almost couldn’t process it.

’This is a basement?’

The ceiling was astonishingly high, as if a small mountain had been hollowed out.

The air was fresh and circulated freely, and he could even faintly hear the gurgling of water from somewhere within the rock walls.

To his right was a smooth, polished rock wall with a stone fireplace built into it. The hearth was unlit, but a Magic Lamp hanging above the mantelpiece cast a bright, gentle light.

To his left was a wide-open area, offering an expansive view.

Straight ahead, a thick carpet covered the floor, where several comfortable-looking armchairs and a sofa were arranged around a solid wood table and a low coffee table.

A male Zor Elf with dark skin, silver hair, and long ears was sunk comfortably into the sofa, leisurely flipping through a thick, leather-bound book by the light of the Magic Lamp.

Beside him rested a cup of steaming tea.

Hesia opened his mouth, but the words he had prepared got stuck in his throat.

The male Zor Elf seemed to hear the noise. He slowly raised his head, and his eyes, which glowed with a faint red light in the gloom, fixed on Hesia, who was frozen at the top of the stairs.

"Ah, so you must be the apprentice Lady Fevik mentioned, Mr. Galen."