376 Different Teams
Pettigrew stood at just over 1.6 meters tall, his disheveled, yellow hair peeking out from under a face mask designed for performances. His right palm was encased in a flamboyant silver glove, and he wore an open brown jacket over a dark shirt.
As Lumian approached, Pettigrew stepped forward, exclaiming in surprise and delight, “Muggle, you’ve finally reappeared.”
Lumian replied with a smile in Aurore’s voice, “Something happened some time ago; it took me a while to recuperate.”
“Are you alright now?” Pettigrew asked with concern.
“It’s alright,” Lumian replied nonchalantly, unsure of Aurore’s friendship with him.
He turned his gaze to a lady sitting on the stone steps.
The woman donned a black butterfly mask, a white shirt adorned with a bow tie, and a long, dark coat. Pinned to her chest, a clearly typeset paper name tag read: “Professor.”
Lumian greeted her with a smile, “Did Associate Professor not make it?”
Associate Professor was a man. A few years back, due to their shared code names, they had met in real life and became husband and wife.
Both were avid Warlocks, delving deep into the study of various spells. Aurore’s grimoires contained the Weed Removal spell, courtesy of Associate Professor.
Professor’s lips bore a faint hue, and her gaunt face framed her beautiful brown eyes. She simply replied, “He’s occupied in the real world, playing host to guests. He couldn’t spare the time. Nevertheless, my presence is akin to his; it doesn’t alter matters. Muggle, what’s the matter?”
Lumian smiled faintly and said, “I want to thank him for his Weed Removal spell.”
“What’s there to be grateful for? Could it be that your home was overrun by a large number of weeds?” Pettigrew asked curiously.
Lumian mirrored Aurore’s expression as he recounted the past. His light-blue eyes darted around as he continued, “Some time ago, I encountered a plant rumored to originate from the Abyss. It not only grew at an astounding rate but also possessed remarkable vitality. It emitted anesthetic gasses and devoured humans like a man-eating flower. Whenever it surfaced, it did so in the hundreds, if not thousands. The Weed Removal spell, however, could wither them all. While it didn’t annihilate them outright, it rendered them dormant for a considerable duration.”
“Weed Removal works on Beyonder plants?” Professor exclaimed in astonishment.
Lumian nodded and said, “But it’s effective only against grass or vine-type plants.”
These were the insights Aurore had penned in her grimoires.
It was evident she had conducted experiments with the Abyss Demon Flower of the Padre, meticulously documenting her findings with scholarly dedication, even when her condition was clearly off.
“This is an interesting discovery.” Professor held Lumian’s hand, delving into the intricacies of the Weed Removal spell.
Fortunately, Lumian had delved deeply into this spell and sought guidance from Franca and Madame Hela. Though he couldn’t use it, his knowledge was sufficient for a conversation.
After a lengthy discussion on spells and mystical knowledge with the Academy team, Lumian suddenly sensed a looming presence, casting a shadow over his surroundings.
Raising his eyes, he beheld an immense figure.
This figure towered at an imposing 2.4 meters, draped in a plain linen robe. Its head was concealed beneath a hood, and in its grip, a formidable magic staff, capable of shattering the skulls of ordinary humans, was held.
It was none other than Gandalf, the president of the Curly-Haired Baboons Research Society. Franca had suggested that he might have reincarnated as a middle-aged man within the Feysac Empire, endowed with a giant bloodline. He had a penchant for liquor and an insatiable thirst for mystical knowledge, yet the nature of his pathway remained an enigma. Sometimes, he displayed traits of the Reader pathway, embodying characteristics of a Savant and Mystery Pryer. At other times, it made people feel that with his physical condition, it would be a pity not to take the Warrior pathway.
High-end mystical knowledge like the Law of Beyonder Characteristics Indestructibility originated from Gandalf.
Oddly, Franca’s expression took on a peculiar twist when mentioning Gandalf, as though his code name didn’t quite align with his towering stature and imposing presence.
Gandalf, his visage obscured by an eerie shadow, fixed his gaze upon Lumian and gruffly extended a smile.
“You’ve missed a few gatherings. I was concerned something might have befallen you.”
Lumian responded with pursed lips, his momentary sigh and helplessness hidden beneath the surface. “Something did happen, but it’s been resolved.”
“That’s reassuring.” Gandalf nodded in relief.
Following a few more courteous exchanges with Lumian, he made his way towards the other teams.
This was Lumian’s first time participating in the Curly-Haired Baboons Research Society’s discussions. Following Madame Hela’s counsel, he adopted a stance of speaking less and listening more. Often, he remained in silence.
Throughout this process, Lumian, now seated on the stone steps, observed those who spoke with a faint smile, projecting an aura of extreme attentiveness.
Aurore often employed a similar tactic. When conversing with Madame Pualis and the elderly ladies in Cordu, she would grace the speaker with a warm smile, making them feel truly valued. The discussion might be captivating, but beneath her apparent engagement, Aurore’s thoughts would occasionally drift. She would intermittently return to grasp the essential points, safeguarding against potential awkwardness when she needed to respond.
Of course, when it came to discussions of mystical knowledge or striking deals, Lumian remained fully engaged, simply mirroring Aurore’s demeanor.
After a while, Lumian found a suitable moment to rise from his spot, signaling his intention to depart from the Academy team’s gathering area.
A lady, her face adorned with removable oil paint, exclaimed in surprise, “Aren’t you purchasing anything today?”
Do you really need to spend a small fortune at every gathering to find joy, Grande Soeur? Lumian muttered silently and smiled.
“I have two reasons. Firstly, I’ve recently hit a bottleneck and am more focused on gathering the formula and ingredients for the Scrolls Professor potion…”
He spoke earnestly while analyzing the absence of corresponding requirements. Finally, he said, “Secondly, I’m broke and owe someone a substantial sum.”
Members of the Academy team chuckled warmly, their understanding evident.
They had all noticed that Muggle had met with a significant problem during her hiatus from the gatherings, transforming from a well-off individual into someone burdened with debt.
However, they weren’t overly concerned for Muggle. Over the past few years, they had witnessed their companion’s knack for accumulating wealth.
Gracefully, Lumian made his way to the third pillar on the right of the colossal stone chair, where the Purgatory team congregated. Madame Hela frequently engaged in their discussions.
The lady was already present, albeit with a noticeable reduction in the chill that enveloped her. Under her veiled hat was a blur, revealing only a pale, yet not dismal, white complexion.
Silently, Lumian observed the discussions and dealings of the Purgatory team. After a while, he inquired thoughtfully, “Have any of you heard of an illusory river associated with the domain of death?”
Hela cast a fleeting glance at Lumian but remained silent.
Another member of the Purgatory team, a man bearing the code name Cerberus, pondered the question and responded, “Muggle, why do you ask?
“I’ve heard rumors of an illusory river deep within the Underworld, within the realm of hell. It’s said to be connected to one of the High-Sequence Beyonders of the Corpse Collector pathway.”
He actually answered without hesitation and didn’t seek compensation for the intel, even though it’s only hearsay and not verified fact… Lumian smiled and said, “I’ve recently been intrigued by the presence of such a river in both the myths and legends of our homeland and here.”
He raised the topic indirectly without delving into further details.
Cerberus pondered for a moment before commenting, “This might be rooted in the commonality between the origins of myths and human thought.”
Lumian tersely acknowledged with Aurore’s voice and didn’t inquire further.
He listened for a while longer before turning his attention to a hole in the ancient palace.
With his previous preparations in place, Lumian could smoothly blend into the April Fool’s team, allowing him to eavesdrop on their conversations.
As Lumian made his way to the designated location, he quickly reviewed what he had observed and heard.
He couldn’t help but notice that his sister, Aurore, had garnered quite a bit of popularity. Both the members of the Academy and the Purgatory team had shown her kindness.
While moving diagonally through the ancient palace, Lumian’s attention was drawn to a man with stockings covering his head. This individual leaped onto a broken pillar and addressed the Curly-Haired Baboons Research Society members, who were clad in various eccentric outfits.
“Allow me to recite a poem!
“Ocean, you are all water;
“Horse, you have four legs.
“Demoness, you truly taste great!”
This isn’t a poem at all… Lumian had already purchased Emperor Roselle’s Secret Chronicles, which included jests about the Emperor having a more than friendly relationship with a Demoness. In the diary, he even commented on the taste of Demonesses.
With one step following another, Lumian approached the April Fool’s team. He spotted a man with his back turned to him, dressed in a black seer’s robe. Behind this figure, an ancient Feysac word was inscribed in golden paint: “Loki.”
Franca had mentioned that Loki was a figure from certain legends in their world, associated with lies, mischief, and flames. This member bearing the code name ‘Loki’ is the founder of the April Fool’s team. Although he has progressed on the paths of the divine at a pace not inferior to Hela and the others, he hasn’t ascended to the position of vice president… Various pieces of information flashed through Lumian’s mind.
He entered the area where the April Fool’s team was, and all laughter abruptly ceased.
In unison, Loki and the others turned to face Lumian, who was clad in a half-mask and a black Warlock robe.
As Muggle, Lumian’s lips curved into a radiant smile.
“Long time no see, everyone.”
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