Warlock Apprentice

Angor woke up only to see endless darkness. There were strange whispers going off right beside his ears.

What are they talking about? Or… are they humans at all? I hear growling…

He felt something familiar. It was as if he just went through the same experience not long ago, yet he couldn’t remember when. Or rather, his whole mind was too chaotic for him to think properly.

When he saw a small light spot in the distance, he stood up and followed it out of instinct.

As he moved closer to the light, the whispers grew louder and more unified as if thousands of different individuals of different races were trying to explain the same word in different languages.

They made his head ache.

He reached his goal—a strange door that existed alone in the dark.

Or… is it a mirror?

Angor did not withhold anything. He told everything he could remember, including the terrifying old witch.

Sunders remained quiet for a moment to digest what he just heard.

“You believe the man you saw in this ‘door’ was you?”

Angor nodded.

Sunders rubbed his temples. “When I arrived at the cottage and found you, there was another man beside you who was obscured by some mist or shady effects. I saw his blond hair, but his hair was a lot longer. His form dissipated as soon as I moved closer.”

“You didn’t see his face either, sir?”

“No. But I saw him taking your right hand. Or, I saw him trying to fuse with your right hand.”

“Eh, fuse with my hand?!” Angor lifted his strange hand again. He understood none of what Sunders was talking about.

Does it mean “he” affixed this bizarre hand on me? But why? Where did my old hand go?

Angor tried clenching the hand into a fist and succeeded without a problem. Also, there seemed to be a strong power hidden inside the hand, but it felt… foreign.

He squeezed so hard that he saw several blood veins pulsing on his right hand.

Blood? But my soul did not have blood!

“You finally noticed?” Sunders grinned. “Your right hand is ‘real’ now.”

“Really?!” Angor quickly lifted his left hand and checked.

Everything on him still suggested that he was in his “soul form”, except for the foreign body part he just gained.

A terrible realization struck his mind.

What about my real body back in reality? Did my body grow a wrong hand too?

He failed to remain calm as cold sweat covered his entire body, or at least he believed so, as his soul couldn’t sweat.

“Don’t take my words to your heart yet. I might be wrong,” Sunders spoke up again.

“What… do you mean, professor?”

“There’s another possibility that the strange character was pulling your right hand, your REAL right hand, into Nightmare Realm from the wizarding world. We had to get back first to confirm what really happened, and before we can, do not use that new hand.”

Sunders glanced at the green marks flying around the hand and felt something terrifying troubling his mind. He couldn’t sense any energy signature from it yet, but something told him that they should be very careful when “handling” Angor’s newly grown body part.

Angor nodded and slumped on his bed, not sure of what to do. Losing a hand was quite a heavy blow to him.

“I have another assumption.” Sunders continued when he saw Angor in such a low spirit, “Perhaps you never lost your hand. This one is also YOUR hand, just looks different.”

Angor looked up at his professor, confused.

“You ‘felt’ that the man in your dream was you, no? Maybe you were right. That man is Angor, a projection created by Nightmare Realm.”