Chapter 5
With only four hours until dawn, just as the town's residents were sleeping soundly, the alarm sounded throughout Albion, waking many people who opened their windows to look out. Upon hearing that it was a monster invasion, their expressions changed drastically.
Although Albion is close to the Amberley Mountains, there are still many towns and villages along the way. It would be a fantasy to imagine that it would be invaded by monsters—but wouldn't that mean that all those villages and towns along the way have perished?
With such a big incident, the patrons in the tavern couldn't sit still any longer. After paying their bills, they rushed home, leaving only the owner Martin, the waiter, and Veris, who was slowly packing his backpack.
"Veris, are you going home?" Martin stood by the counter, settling his wages for the night. It seemed there would be no business in the latter half of the night, so he might as well close down.
Veris slung his large backpack over his shoulder and nodded.
Martin's face was full of worry: "How could there be magical beasts in Albion? I don't know what happened, and I don't dare to go out and see. You should go back quickly, close the door, and wait until dawn to talk about it."
He handed Veris a bag of silver coins.
After receiving the item, Veris said goodbye to Boss Martin and left the tavern. The streets were deserted, but the lights upstairs were on, and some people had climbed onto the rooftops to check on the outskirts of the town.
The tavern was located in the center of town, quite a distance from the outskirts. As Veris walked home, he looked up at the night sky. Tonight, the stars were as numerous as ever, with various constellations dotting the sky and shifting paths, forming new star arrays.
He scratched his cheek, thoughtfully looked away, and continued walking towards his attic.
The profession of astrologer is extremely rare in the Kingdom of Lotheran, no, even on the entire continent of Icarus.
Before the new era, there were only slightly fewer astrologers than magicians. But after the new era, children with astrological talent and all books about astrology disappeared in the war.
All astrologers in the Kingdom of Lotheran are subordinate to the High Papacy.
Only the Papacy possesses ancient scrolls for practicing astrology.
Of course, this does not include Veris. This skill is as simple as drinking water for him. It requires no complicated preparation or prayer. He can calculate the stars simply by looking up.
Just like now, he saw Albion's future fate.
He yawned. "Save everyone else," he thought, "that's best left to the hero."
Being able to go back and take a nap at this hour is incredibly comfortable.
His attic was located in a corner of the town, which was also the outer area, facing the direction of the Amberley Mountains. However, Veris had already engraved a defensive magic circle on the attic. When he saw the magic circle being passively activated from afar, he raised his eyebrows in slight surprise.
Are there really some clueless monsters coming to our door?
Veris was a little surprised. His magic circle had a built-in concealment effect and was located in a corner of the town. It was really inconspicuous. Not to mention magical beasts, even humans would subconsciously ignore this place.
A strange smile spread across his face as he strode towards his home. His thick-soled shoes made a lot of noise on the stone floor, the clattering sound echoing, but no one noticed his movements.
He quickly arrived at the spot and looked up at the ground that was shimmering with a dark red light, his curiosity growing stronger.
Stepping onto the dark red ground, intricate magic circle patterns appeared. Veris pushed open the door to his attic, which remained dark inside, with books and scrolls piled up everywhere.
Did you let him get away?
The poet's murmurs echoed in the empty attic. For the first time ever, Veris lit a lamp and, holding a candlestick, walked through piles of books, some of which were waist-high and of unknown age. Near the wall were wooden bookshelves, which looked to be of quite good quality, as they had stood intact in the corner after all these years.
The firelight illuminated the path beneath his feet. Veris hummed a tune, much like those sung by the Vatican choir, as he walked toward the stairwell.
The attic actually has three floors. Veris usually rests on the second floor. The top floor has a pointed roof, but you can climb out through the skylight.
The top floor used to be Sylvain's room. After Sylvain left, Veris converted it into a storage room, which Sylvain was unhappy about for a long time.
Unlike the second floor, the room on the top floor was locked. Veris raised his hand and placed it on the large metal lock, and a palm-sized light gold magic circle appeared, causing the metal lock to open automatically with a "click".
He pushed open the door, and the room was not as dark as the first floor. Moonlight shone in through the skylight, and the storage room was filled with boxes in every corner, some closed and some half open, with the shadow of a magic wand vaguely visible.
Before them lay a cleared space, and from the darkness, countless chains extended, imprisoning the uninvited guest who had trespassed into the attic.
Veris arrived just in time. When he opened the door and saw the "person" who had been captured, his interest grew even stronger.
He placed the candlestick in his hand on the small table by the door, took two steps inside, and the door behind him closed automatically. He squatted down, looked down at his long-lost "old friend," and smiled.
The person opposite him was also staring at him, their empty eye sockets revealing nothingness. Their body was bound by chains, and they could be seen to be barely recognizable as human.
"Oh dear, long time no see, long time no see." Veris's frivolous laughter rang out. He reached out and pinched the face of the stubborn, undead soul. His long, slender, white fingertips almost dug into the somewhat withered cheek. His heterochromatic pupils reflected a decaying yet still handsome face.
"You couldn't wait to come find me after hearing your own story, Your Majesty?"
The remnant soul's empty eye sockets stared at Veris, and because his jaw was being squeezed, his words were slurred: "Veris... I just want... to see you..."
His tone carried a subtle stickiness, and in his empty eye sockets, if those eyes were still there, one could see countless pains and obsessions.
"His first stop... was where you are... Our fate... won't... um—"
Veris's eyes turned cold. His fingers moved downwards, gripping the throat of his old friend, silencing the man's broken words.
The chains rattled, and Veris glanced at them, knowing he couldn't hold this remnant soul for long.
He chuckled and said, "I've never believed in fate."
"You don't actually think I was waiting for you, do you?"
The remnant soul's lips trembled, as if trying to utter a word, but the fingers tightening around his throat prevented him from speaking. Nevertheless, he mouthed the words.
Disgust flashed in Veris's eyes, and the chains swayed more and more violently, soon becoming uncontrollable by the remnant soul.
As the remnant soul vanished, Veris straightened up, the candle flames behind him flickering. He walked to the skylight, looked up to make sure it was still secure, and then turned to leave.
What bad luck!
He thought expressionlessly, "Sure enough, the simultaneous appearance of heroes is never a good thing."
After closing the rooftop lock again, Veris, holding a candlestick, prepared to go back to the second floor to sleep. The wooden stairs creaked under his weight, a sound he was used to and ignored.
The second-floor corridor was still piled high with books. Veris walked to his room, pushed the door open, and paused slightly.
"Why are you here again?"
A look of confusion and bewilderment crossed his face as he gazed at Sylvain, who stood radiantly in his room.
Sylvain lowered his eyes, greeted him first, and then said in a low voice, "The astrological results are not good, I've come to inform you."
"Why not just use a teleportation scroll?" Veris asked, puzzled. He placed the candlestick on the table in the room and looked at Sylvain. "Why did you come all this way in person? If I remember correctly, the teleportation array must have taken a toll on you."
Doesn't this kid take his health seriously?
Sylvain pursed his lips, and after a moment, explained, "I can now cast ten teleportation arrays at once."
Veris: ...Okay.
It seems he's seen too many useless magicians on the mainland; he's actually a little unaccustomed to Sylvain's talent.
He pressed his temples; the events of earlier had quite a shock to him, and he had a headache about what to do next. However, he still wanted Sylvain to report back on the astrological findings first.
"The Demon King's city is in chaos, Vesper has awakened, and he has declared his intention to destroy the Grand Papacy." Sylvain spoke slowly, even somewhat haltingly. Veris was already used to this, and upon hearing this, his brows furrowed deeply.
However, he quickly narrowed his eyes and turned to Sylvain: "Go back and tell the king to issue a decree to find a team of heroes who can defeat the Demon King. If they succeed, they will be crowned the first Holy Knight of the Empire."
Sylvain paused for a moment, then nodded: "Okay."
A commotion arose outside, probably from the disturbance caused by the monster invasion. Sylvan turned his head to look out the window and asked, "Do you need my help?"
"No need," Veris said calmly. "Those magical beasts are after the hero." More precisely, they were after the Eye of the Gods.
He also turned his head to look out the window. In his heterochromatic eyes, his gaze seemed to penetrate the thick walls of the houses and directly see the scene in front of the town of Albion. He frowned again. No, it was just the Eye of the Gods. Such a distance was not enough to cause such a crazy riot among the monsters.
There must be other reasons.
Veris's eyes flashed as he recalled what Arnold had told him last night about the murderer—the town's pharmacist.
The potion that triggers the monster uprising does exist, but it is a banned substance.
Logically speaking, ordinary pharmacists should not be able to obtain the formula.
"After Sylvain leaves, I'll take a walk around the town," Veris thought.
Another hero... Sylvain, standing behind Veris, lowered his eyes, recalling some stories he had heard at the Papacy during the day.
Veris seems to be a constant presence on the adventures of every generation of heroes.
Veris is really concerned about everything related to the hero.
He closed his eyes, his breathing becoming somewhat labored, as if he couldn't exhale a complete breath. A stone was stuck in his throat, preventing his heart from swelling and exploding like a madman. Scattered throughout his internal organs were countless feelings of jealousy and resentment.
The moment he realized something was wrong, Sylvain lowered his head and suggested leaving. Veris, pondering the matter of the hero and the remnant soul of the god, raised his hand to indicate that he understood.
The magic circle flashed by.
The surrounding environment transformed from a dark attic into a solemn and magnificent papal palace. The Holy Son stood in the prayer room, before whom stood a statue of the Pope, towering high. The beautiful and intricate clothing and slightly curled hair were meticulously sculpted by the craftsmen, but no matter how much talent the craftsmen devoted their lives, they could not replicate even a fraction of the Pope's expression on that face.
Sylvain slowly knelt before his nominal father.
He lowered his head deeply, his white hair falling down and obscuring his face.
The hands on his knees gripped his robes so tightly that his fingertips were almost white.
Veris said that Sylvain would be the greatest magician of the future.
However, on the continent of Icarus, there are not only magicians.
In those areas he cannot reach, people as good as him or even better will appear, attracting all of Veris's attention. He will soon become just like those former prodigies, utterly vulgar.
Sylvain could hardly breathe at the thought of this possibility. He lay prostrate before the Pope's solemn statue, each breath filled with intense jealousy.
He wasn't afraid that Veris would meet new people.
He feared that the newcomers would be even more capable than him, making him seem utterly insignificant in comparison.
"Can someone as ugly as me truly become the holy son who spreads your great glory?"
A note from the author:
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(99% jealousy + 99% infatuation + 99% self-control) + 1% inferiority complex = Sylvain
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The next chapter is about mercenaries; you can skip it if you don't like it. [Let me see]
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