Warlock Apprentice

A giant boulder sat motionless in his view.

Both the “young” and the “old” side of Talos were sleeping like any ordinary folk would do in the middle of the night. Rather, the Dual Sprite looked even peaceful under the comforting moonlight.

Angor tried to talk. Yet Talos never woke up no matter how he called and yelled or revealed his body.

Angor’s expression darkened. He didn’t believe that Talos, an ancient being who had lived for thousands of years, would fail to notice someone had disrupted its sleep.

The only explanation was Talos didn’t want him to leave.

Angor would assume the worst. It was likely that Talos had sided with Isabella. Yet the sprite didn’t want to make it too obvious, so it simply feigned it.

Also, Talos probably had already informed Isabella of his arrival!

In truth, only half of Angor’s assumption was correct—Talos was pretending to be sleeping, true. But this wasn’t because it wanted to aid Isabella. Talos would like to avoid getting involved in the matter.

Angor couldn’t think of anyone who could manage to display such horrifying expressions.

But on second look, Angor recalled something. He saw this man somewhere before… from the “handsome candidate illustrations” he received from Lady Mirror.

And Isabella just called him “Bogula”…

“Puppet Master” Bogula?

Angor recalled Lady Mirror’s comment about this man.

“Bogula from Floating Mech City is a rare, one-of-a-kind genius and is very likely to become a truth finder. He looks good too. Pity, he’s a terrible pervert…”

A terrible pervert! According to THE Lady Mirror!

Earlier, Angor felt relieved that he was saved by someone, but now, he wasn’t so sure about it.

The point was, why did this “pervert” help him?

He didn’t get to think about that question. Scorching pain suddenly rose from inside his body as if all of his blood started to boil.

He screamed at the unbearable agony. Blood was seeping out from his eyes, ears, and nose. Hot, steaming blood.

“Gah-hahaha! No one can save him when I WANT HIM DEAD!” Isabella’s mad voice came again.

Bogula glanced at Angor’s condition and quickly realized something. “A blood curse…”

Isabella had already extracted some blood from Angor’s wounds. Using his blood, Isabella was putting a deadly curse on Angor.

“Burning Blood! Aw, isn’t that an amazing sight!”

Bogula lowered his head. His hands glowed with blue light, and a pair of blond, blue-eyed ladies appeared beside him.

“Get her.”

The ladies instantly lunged at Isabella.

Without much time to prepare, Isabella used one of the basic means of cursing against Angor. However, with Bogula’s puppet ladies interrupting her, the curse on Angor halted.

Isabelle was caught by surprise as well. In fact, she didn’t expect Bogula to attack her directly just for a “material”.

On the other hand, Angor felt the curse subside. But the lingering, burning pain in his veins was still torturing him alive.

He breathed heavily. His nose, mouth, even his skin was releasing white vapor into the air. His clean, white face had turned red, like someone who spent too much time doing a handstand.

Bogula waited for Angor to recover just a little before he whispered, “I’ll save your life if you’re willing to follow me.”

“Gah… Follow—what do you mean?” Angor couldn’t think too clearly. He replied out of instinct without addressing Bogula properly.

“You will know once you agree,” Bogula replied in a tone that sounded absolutely evil in Angor’s view.

Angor was taken aback as he realized something. “You’re Diablo’s teacher?”

“That’s right.”

Angor planned to ask about Shadow’s condition, but on second thought… Shadow would probably be okay since his teacher was already here.

Then Angor remembered Shadow mentioning the “bizarre fetishes” of his teacher…

He already knew what this man wanted from him.

“You’re going to make me into your puppet?”