Warlock Apprentice

Mithra and his muscular companion flew away from Bogula’s base. They were heading to Mithra’s House, the Elixir Hut, which was located at the lower side of the city.

“Are you trying to protect that apprentice, professor?” the bulky man asked.

“He has great talent and has obtained decent alchemy legacy,” Mithra said as he held his chin. “Such talented young men are already scarce. We should not let them go extinct in this world.”

The bulky figure nodded uncertainly. “If you want to keep the root of alchemy going, professor, you can simply extract his memory.”

“His talent goes well with his legacy but does not fit with my theories. It’ll be pointless for me to acquire something I cannot use. Let’s not destroy a promising genius like this.”

The giant man nodded. He found it a good thing that he got to know a “future” master alchemist. He could always ask for Angor’s help in crafting items later, which was even better if Angor really became a Mystery alchemist somehow.

But the man still got more questions in his mind.

There were all types of entertainment facilities. Pleasure House alone had set up multiple of their stores here. Along this street named “Beinzweinz”, people could find proper places for both men and women or someone in between.

A short, fat man rushed into Beinzweinz Street and entered a small building while covered in sweat.

Judging from his clothes and physical condition, he was undeniably an ordinary mortal. Even so, most mortals living inside Floating Mech City all shared family relations with supernaturals.

This man was called Pride. Both his father and twin brother were apprentices.

Using their help, Pride won himself a job in this small building that was related to supernaturals.

The first thing he saw in the building were piles of papers flying about as if someone were tossing them around. However, there was no one carrying them. The papers headed toward designated locations on their own as if they possessed intelligence.

There were a desk and a chair to Pride’s right side, but their owner was currently somewhere else—at a bar stand drinking and chatting with someone.

The absence of an owner didn’t prevent the quill and notes from working on their own as they drafted beautiful handwritings.

Pride knew that this was done by using something called “Spiritual Power”. He saw similar stuff in his father’s study.

He was envious of such power, but he only had a spiritual power indicator of 9, which prevented him from becoming a talent.

He didn’t give up yet. Also with the help of his family, he learned that there was a special potion called Potion of Austere Night, which could increase his indicator by 2 points, thus granting him a chance of becoming a talent.

The potion was costly. He almost earned enough money. If his exclusive magazine kept selling well, he’d soon get enough salary to buy a glass of the potion from an Apothecary alchemist.

When thinking about this, Pride calmed his excited mood.

There was a mortal girl with well-developed breasts sitting behind a desk to his left. Pride had been pursuing this girl named Jolene for a while now, both in reality and in his dreams. However, the lady kept her distance.

Jolene was now reviewing all kinds of articles that they received from different parts of the world. Each article would be checked three times. She was responsible for the first one.

Pride’s working place was a magazine intended for wizards; it was called “Precision Sky” and the place published an edition each month.

Now was the 555th year since Precision Sky was established. This month’s edition would be their 6666th volume in total. A memorable number, both to the magazine office and to Pride.

The magazine office just began to hire mortals to manage the publishing works, and they wanted to see the outcome of it.

Since Pride was the main editor for Precision Sky this month, this was a perfect chance for him to gain a raise in salary or post.

“Pride, I got the sample for you. Personally, I think this one should be as good as the last one, if not better,” Jolene said as she handed Pride a moderate-sized book.

Just to select better articles, they had been working together without sleeping for three full days. Pride already reached his mortal limit.

“I trust your capability,” Pride flattered his “future wife” without looking at the book. “If we release a good edition and help wizards kill time, then Mister Vonsman will make me a permanent chief editor. Then we can—”

“Oh, stop it.” Jolene chuckled and said, “Check out the sample, pretty please.”