Ignoring the Black Snake's mockery, Darkwill produced several healing and specialty potions and skillfully began hawking them. Their effects had been tested by numerous gathering members and were quickly purchased by regular customers, earning him about 10 pounds.
He just sells for a few minutes and pockets 10 pounds, while I toiled all evening in that stinking sewer and only made 30 pounds—nearly dying in an East Borough apartment from divining about the True Creator...
Angel felt envious and resentful, knowing the Frenzy Ring amplified these emotions, though they weren't entirely insincere.
The woman who'd previously sold a 500-pound runesteel sword brought another Extraordinary weapon this time: a Sunflame Dagger.
It would let the wielder resist most cold and disease effects, with attacks having a chance to emit flames especially effective against wraiths and spirits.
The negative effect was that holding it would involuntarily make one worship the sun. Using it for over an hour risked becoming an idiot or lunatic capable only of praising the sun.
The weapon's effects would last one year. The woman was asking 550 pounds, or the Barbarian formula.
Extraordinary weapons one after another—she must have a craftsman behind her who can create them.
Like the others, Angel studied the woman selling the Sunflame Dagger and the weapon in her hand, which looked no different from an ordinary dagger, mentally evaluating its usefulness.
Sounds somewhat like the sealed artifact behind Chanis Gate in Tingen, the "Mutated Sun Holy Emblem." Could this weapon's power also come from the Eternal Blazing Sun?
And she's willing to barter, meaning she'd pay 550 pounds for the formula, or more...
Trading a repeatedly sellable formula for an Extraordinary weapon is tempting, but this dagger isn't very useful to me. A Witch's black flames can achieve similar lethal effects without side effects. What I lack is something like my old "Thirst" blade—something that can unleash massive damage in a short time.
Therefore, Angel didn't trade the Barbarian formula in her pocket for the weapon or direct payment. Instead, she inquired:
"Could I commission custom weapons from you? I can pay or help you search for potion formulas."
At the mention of potion formulas, the woman's eyes behind her mask seemed to gleam.
"If you have special weapon requirements, you can tell me. I'll search to the best of my ability."
Not mentioning crafting—is she afraid of being targeted?
Angel thought curiously, then nodded. "If I need something, I'll contact you. I'll also keep an eye out for Barbarian formula leads."
The 550-pound Sunflame Dagger ultimately found no buyers. The seller showed no anxiety—clearly this wasn't the first time, and not every day brought someone willing to spend hundreds of pounds on weapons.
After several more transactions, seeing no one else speak up, the Eye of Wisdom announced the gathering's end. Starting from the corner near the door, members were led away one by one by attendants, leaving through different exits.
That Black Snake talked big but ran faster than anyone. Before Angel realized it, he'd already left through some exit.
When only herself, Apothecary Darkwill, the man who'd escaped death, and the Eye of Wisdom remained, Angel was preparing to leave when she heard the old man's gentle voice.
"You're the dog-masked lady from last time, aren't you?"
Can we stop mentioning the dog mask? I'm burning it when I get home...
Angel complained internally but nodded. "Yes, I'm surprised you recognized me."
"I know every member here, yet you're an exception. I assume he told you how to identify the code and attend gatherings punctually."
The old gentleman looked at Apothecary Darkwill.
The latter stared at Angel in surprise, observing for a moment before realization dawned.
"It's you! I didn't even recognize you without that..."
"Yes, yes, not wearing it anymore," Angel interrupted. "I'm glad you weren't carried off by mutated rats as emergency rations or arrested by official Beyonders."
"Official Beyonders? How did they know... Wait, you reported it?"
Darkwill's plump face swelled with surprise, nearly spilling over the mask's edges.
"Those mutated rats and alligators in the sewers had unknown origins. Though I dealt with most of them, they could still harm people. Reporting to the police and letting the authorities handle the problem—isn't that the normal approach?"
Angel, having once been a Nighthawk herself, naturally thought differently from these wild Beyonders. Her first instinct when encountering problems was to notify official Beyonders rather than concealing matters.
"Well said. While we must avoid official Beyonders, in some matters we can also utilize them. Don't try to handle everything yourselves."
The Eye of Wisdom nodded slightly, the laugh lines beneath his mask creasing as his lips curved upward, clearly approving of Angel's approach.
After commenting on the reporting incident, he turned his gaze to the man who'd angered a Sequence 5.
"Your luck is also quite good. Did you gather the money and reach a settlement with your enemy?"
Finding all three gazes focused on him, the black-haired man smiled and answered:
"I was indeed fortunate enough—not only did I win my gamble, but I found a powerful ally."
Won the gamble—does that mean he gained something from the Black Snake's item that could "hear a great being's voice"?
He didn't actually believe in the True Creator, did he? Is this "powerful ally" he mentions that evil god?
Angel studied him carefully, trying to find traits similar to Aurora Order members, when she again felt that eerie gaze lingering on her.
Apothecary Darkwill also remarked on the man's good fortune, regretting he hadn't chosen the Apothecary path over another that could make one fortunate enough.
After some pleasantries, the four opened up in conversation. The lucky man, having apparently become a Beyonder through this experience, was eager to increase his combat ability and asked if others could sell useful mystical items.
Angel did possess two mystical items, but the Frenzy Ring she'd bought for 2,000 pounds was crucial to hiding her identity, while the Magic Pocket Watch combined rescue and life-saving functions—she estimated it could fetch 2,500 to 3,000 pounds if sold. She had no intention of selling, and even if she did, this unlucky fellow who could only afford 400 pounds for a bodyguard couldn't afford it anyway.
The Eye of Wisdom did showcase part of his collection, including a brooch that could exorcise and purify, a hat allowing free movement underwater, and even a mystical item with a sealed artifact number: 2-081.
"2-081?"
The man asked in confusion.
Angel was equally curious. How had a Church sealed artifact ended up in this old gentleman's hands? Had some Nighthawk committed theft?
"The seven orthodox churches collect mystical items with obvious hazards and number them, collectively calling them 'sealed artifacts,' distinguished by numbers."
The Eye of Wisdom patiently explained, his lips curved in a smile, his wrinkled face seeming to blossom. He clearly enjoyed sharing knowledge with others.
"Level 0 sealed artifacts are most dangerous—capable of destroying cities or devastating nations. Level 1 artifacts are next, but without supervision, they too cause tremendous harm. Churches notify each other about these two levels, so there's no duplication. Levels 2 and 3 are less dangerous, numbered independently by different churches, so duplication is possible."
Angel had expected to hear superficial Church knowledge but was surprised to learn things even she hadn't known.
"They notify each other of designations?"
The man asked in astonishment.
That's understandable—like nuclear deterrence. I have sealed artifacts that can destroy you, you have ones that can destroy me, and this actually creates strategic balance, preventing uncontrollable conflicts...
Angel leaned back against the sofa, listening as the Eye of Wisdom and the lucky man—a newcomer to mysticism—exchanged knowledge and showed off mystical items, occasionally interjecting comments herself, until the day's gathering concluded.
It reminded her of those relaxed, pleasant times in Tingen.
In the drizzle, a hired carriage slowly navigated muddy streets.
Klein leaned against the carriage wall, watching nighttime Backlund through the window.
The surrounding temperature suddenly dropped, and an icy wind arose.
He instinctively turned back to look inside the carriage. Somehow, his bodyguard in her black gothic gown had taken the seat across from him.
"That old man probably sensed my presence."
The old man—you mean the Eye of Wisdom?
Klein nodded knowingly. Besides the mystical items the man had shown off, he surely possessed others unknown to Klein—items capable of detecting even what spirit vision couldn't perceive, like his bodyguard.
"He may have an organization behind him. He's just the one who appears publicly to organize gatherings and collect intelligence."
The bodyguard in her small black soft hat nodded in agreement.
"By the way, that lady—the 'dog-masked lady'—seemed to sense me as well, though she probably didn't actually detect me." She tilted her head, curiosity crossing her pale face. "Her eyes were beautiful."
Eyes?
Klein tried to recall the woman who'd stayed until the end with him, tried to remember her eyes behind the iron mask, but found he had no impression whatsoever.
If they were truly beautiful, I'd surely remember...
He inwardly mocked his own strange thoughts, his lips stretching into an exaggerated smile that made his bodyguard blink, her curiosity intensifying.
"I thought you'd be interested," she said. Perhaps having attended the lively Beyonder gathering with Klein, she was unusually talkative today. "They were exactly the same color as that pendant you never let out of your sight."