Warlock Apprentice

“Getting registered?” The clerk placed a registration form in front of Angor skillfully.

When Angor took a pen to fill in the paper—

“Sir, you should know that the title you chose in the Sky Tower will accompany you to the last—”

“Stop!” Angor waved a hand at him quickly. “I know. A showy title is better.”

The clerk gave him a big smile. “Nice. I’ll not bother you with the explanation then.”

Angor quickly wrote down a title he already created and stuffed the paper in the clerk’s hand.

The clerk took the paper with the same smile and looked at the handsome and intelligent young man in front of him in satisfaction. But when he began to read the registration form, his smile froze instantly.

“Go ahead, please,” The woman signaled Angor toward the box.

The lottery box looked like a small, square box on the outside. However, when Angor reached a hand in there, he realized that the inside was exceptionally large. Considering how they could place a space-expansion rune into such a tiny lottery box, Floating Mech City was really a powerful place for alchemy.

Angor took out a random ball from the box. A number was printed on the ball: 038794.

The woman took the ball from Angor and quickly noted something down. A moment later, the screen in front of her showed “Baron Milk VS Blackjack, in 30 minutes, Sky Tower Level 1, Arena 7.”

The woman frowned a bit when she saw the name of Angor’s opponent. She looked at Angor with a hint of sympathy in her eyes.

“Blackjack, huh? Nothing to do with me then.”

“The kid got Blackjack as his first opponent. That’s gonna leave an ugly mark in his heart in the future.”

“Future? Ha! The brat won’t have a future. Just think about how Blackjack deals with his enemies.”

From the discussions coming from behind him, Angor thought that this Blackjack figure might be someone powerful. However, when he went through the participant information about seeded players he received from Dave, he could not recall anyone by that name.

Which meant there was nothing to be afraid of.

Angor took back his profile card nonchalantly and turned to the resting place for participants.

Because of his terrible title, he did not intend to talk to anyone for now. Instead, he chose a corner of the room which was free of people and hunkered down.

With nothing to do while waiting, Angor simply started to meditate.

He did not even get to meditate for long before he heard footsteps coming near him. Angor frowned. He intentionally chose a corner where no people would pass by. Why would someone come here?

He opened his eyes and saw someone… or something, standing in front of him.

Yup, something.

The figure was covered in a full cosplay suit of a white bear. He was also wearing a headband with white, decorative bear ears on it. His face was exposed, but it was not obvious since his face looked white, round and chubby… kinda like a real bear.

“Nice to meet you, Baron Milk.” The white bear waved a hand at Angor.

Angor would definitely respond with the same politely manner… if not for his embarrassing situation. Now, he only planned to display a distant and unfriendly image for “Baron Milk”, so that he would not get his true identity exposed.

With that in mind, Angor humphed and disregarded the white bear.

The white bear did not give up at all. Instead, he sat down beside Angor as if meeting with a close friend and revealed a big smile. “Hey Baron Milk, I love milk too! Let’s become friends.”

Friends?

Angor inspected the face of the white bear from under his hood. Putting that suit aside, the man’s face looked really chubby, about… 20 years old? The man reminded Angor of a grown-up version of Alan Morn.

Angor humphed again and pretended to have a hoarse throat. “I’m not interested in milk. The name’s just… a big mistake.”

The white bear remained friendly. “It’s fine. Fate gave you such a name. Even if it’s a mistake, it still brought us together. Let’s be friends. My title is ‘Earthen Bear’. You can call me White Bear, or just Cubby.”

Cubby?! Angor shivered. And what was the deal with fate? This man felt like those unreliable fortunetellers that he read about in novels; those who always spoke strange and obscure languages without making any sense.

“Humph,” Angor let out some air from his nose, playing his “cold and unfriendly” figure to the best extent.

White Bear did not mind Angor’s attitude at all. He kept speaking while carrying his usual smile, “I saw your first opponent being Blackjack. Do be careful, he’s far from the kind type.”

Seeing Angor was still unresponsive, White Bear paused a little and spoke again, “Blackjack is a famous fighter in the first level. He’s already strong enough to join the next level, but he’d rather stay here even if he can’t earn many points. Because… he’s known for being a sadist. A very dedicate one. And he gets more excited when fighting against weaker opponents. That man remained at the first level and loves to pick on new fighters.

“Blackjack is an Occult apprentice, but no one has recognized exactly which branch. He knows a trick that could seal your voice. So, if you’re not confident, make sure you tell the judge that you surrender before your match begins.”

Angor was not interested in Blackjack’s strength at all. Instead, he glanced at White Bear and asked in his pretended low voice, “Just be frank. What do you want from me?”