Blackjack felt the world around him spin around. Before he had even realized what just happened, he was sent away from the shop by a mighty kick and stumbled onto the ground outside like a barrel.
“Boss!” Fosah and Laffitte caught up to him and pretended to be worrying over his well-being.
Blackjack pushed them away and struggled to get up.
“It’s Master Prome!” Fosah pointed at a man at the shop’s door and yelled out.
Blackjack looked up. Prome was now standing on the stairs with Dave behind him. His target, Angor, was leaning on the doorframe and looking at him with a cold look.
“I didn’t mean to trouble you, Master Prome,” said Blackjack once he regained his posture in front of Prome. “I’m looking for HIM!” He pointed at Angor and gave everyone a furious look.
“Who you’re looking for is not my business. You dare start a fight in my shop, and right in front of me?! Did you lose your mind bullying weaklings in Sky Tower? Or did you forget what death means?” Prome did not care about Blackjack’s excuse. Blackjack attacked someone in the shop right under his nose, which was enough to make him angry. Angor’s special identity was just an additional reason.
Prome glimpsed at the broken card on the ground.
“You like being hanged? I’ll help you then!”
Prome took out a thick rope from somewhere and ordered the rope to bind up Blackjack like a mummy before hanging him in front of the shop door.
Their strength gap was too big for Blackjack to resist. A piece of cloth was stuffed in Blackjack’s mouth. The man’s eyes were now red with both great rage and too much blood in his brain.
“You two are with him?” After ensuring that Blackjack was “in place”, Prome dusted his hands and looked at the remaining two.
Fosah and Laffitte had been staying still. When their names were mentioned, Fosah tried to speak while containing his fear. “Blackjack is our boss, but-but we’re friends with Angor! Friends!”
Prome was already moving to deal with them, but the second part of Fosah’s explanation stopped him.
Prome glanced back at Angor with a questioning look.
Angor looked at Fosah.
Fosah and Laffitte responded with sad puppy eyes.
When Fosah and Laffitte were about to faint due to the great stress, Angor slowly spoke out, “They joined Brute Cavern together with me.”
Angor did not say whether they were friends or enemies. However, Prome was experienced enough to read the meaning hidden in Angor’s words.
Prome turned around and walked into the shop while greeting Angor with a smile along his way.
Fosah and Laffitte let out a breath in relief. Thank god they acted friendly to Angor a moment ago. Now they were wondering how Angor got to know Prome. Why on earth did Prome listen to Angor’s opinion?
As Angor talked with Prome, Dave walked outside and joined Fosah.
“What’s with him? He looked just fine back there. Now he wants to kill Angor all of a sudden? Did you say something bad behind Angor’s back?”
Fosah quickly shook his head and his fat cheeks flipped like jelly from the motion. “I don’t know! He asked us where Angor found his clothes, and we said we don’t know. Then Laffitte said something about how Angor’s clothes looked like Mister Sunders’, and Blackjack turned all angry and rushed back. We couldn’t stop him!”
Angor heard their conversation and slowly got an idea. However, Prome pointed out the problem first.
“I expected much,” Prome spoke with a sneer.
“You know something, Master Prome?” Fosah knelt down in front of Prome respectfully, and Laffitte quickly followed his example.
“Blackjack made quite a story for himself in his year, but his classmates were either dead or proceeded into higher levels. The stories aren’t so popular among the apprentices today,” Prome spoke to Angor and completely ignored the two lackeys on the ground.
“Blackjack has a really good talent. Mister Tree Spirit once spoke highly of him. However, when assigning teachers, this man insisted that he would go to Mister Sunders. He discarded all the other professor posters.”
Blackjack’s cheeks grew red. Maybe it was because he had been hanging upside-down for a while now, or maybe it was because he was simply too angry. The man kept giving Prome meaningful stares to stop him from talking, but Prome did not pay him any attention.
Blackjack tried to stare at his lackeys next, but those two were now attempting to find a new boss and had no time minding him.
“His strength remained at the same level because he had no one to teach him. A proper mentor would have helped him achieve great things already, but he never accepted anyone. He’s obsessed about joining Mister Sunders. See, he even imitated Sunders’ clothes.”
“But why? Is his talent about illusions?” Dave asked.
Prome shook his head. “No. His talent has nothing to do with illusion. I… can’t say I know his reason. But I can tell you that he’s a relative of Mister Sunders. Not a close one, mind you. It appears that his family came branched out from Sunders’ original clan some centuries ago. He heard about it from somewhere before coming to Brute Cavern, and now here he is, a maniacal follower of Mister Sunders, the gentleman’s wannabe.”
Prome shook his head again and sighed.
“Now you know why he acted so? You’re Mister Sunders’ student, and Blackjack can’t accept that.” Prome looked at Angor.
Angor glanced at the hanged man under the roof. “I think it’s not the real reason.”
Prome’s expression shifted a little. “What do you mean?”
Blackjack was now glaring at Angor with all the hate he could muster while mumbling something fiercely.
“I don’t believe he can get so obsessed with another man. It’s not like they’re lovers. They’re only distant relatives who happen to share the same root hundreds of years ago, and they’re almost strangers now,” Angor slowly explained.
Blackjack’s rage was plain on the look. He was swaying left and right, trying to reach Angor using the momentum. But of course, his action was in vain.
“There are no people willing to be a nameless commoner for their entire lives just because they admire someone. If I were him, instead of dreaming to become Sunders’ student and staying that way for many years, I’d try to get stronger and approach Sunders’ level as best as I can, and hopefully surpassing him in the end. As for rejecting other mentors and stopping the process of learning? I can’t believe it. Unless he’s downright foolish, his reason is just an excuse.
“I’ll let it pass this time. I’ll not hesitate to kill him should he come again.”
Angor wasn’t confident in his first match against Blackjack. Now, however, he had enough experience after going through hundreds of matches. Killing Blackjack wasn’t a difficult task at this moment.
Angor and Dave walked inside the shop, while Prome took out a knife and freed Blackjack.
Fosah and Laffitte hurried to his side.
Blackjack stood up silently and spat the cloth out from his mouth.
“Even outsiders can see your little problem. Stop living in a joke and being all insolent just because you’re talented. Mister Magus won’t wait forever for you to mend your way,” Prome spoke to Blackjack in a merciless tone. “Since Angor said so, I’ll let you go just this once. Cause trouble at my place again and I’ll make sure you don’t enjoy a good death!”
Blackjack silently wiped some dirt off his face. His eyes hid an emotion as dark as the deepest sea.
When Prome also disappeared into the shop, Fosah finally spoke out, “Should we go to Twilight Well, boss? Maybe the auction’s already started.”
Blackjack stared at the three figures in the shop and fixed his gaze on Angor in the end. His clenched his fists so hard that the blood veins on his wrist looked about to burst.
“Let’s head back. We’ll come for the blade next week.”
…
Under the dim yellow light in the shop, Prome presented a bottle of wine he had been keeping and placed it on an exquisite table made of fine lumber.
“Exotic merchandise bought from Shampoo Coast. This is the best of sweet wines. It is said to be made from fresh grapes carefully tasted by the hottest maidens, crushed by the most innocent virgins, who bathed their perfect feet in morning dews. The liquid was then fermented by wine masters and added with Moonshine Grass powder, which helps smoothen your blood flow.”
Angor looked at the wine glass, which aroused his childhood memories. Wines produced by Padt Manor used to be popular among nobles in Waterford for a time. They used to tell people that the most fragrant wines were made by innocent virgins, while the most aromatic ones were made by beautiful housewives.
He wondered if the nobles would cough up all their complaints stored over many years if they learned that there were only fat or muscular dudes who crushed the grapes under their smelly feet.
“Thank you, but no,” said Angor. When he saw Prome’s embarrassed expression, he quickly added, “My teacher said that I should not try alcohol before turning 18. It’s bad for brain development.”
Angor was referring to Jon, but Prome thought the boy was talking about Sunders, and he really doubted whether that gentleman could say something so straightforward. Still, Prome put his wine away and accepted Angor’s decision.
“Let’s have some tea then. I have some high-quality red tea I found in the tea farm in Midnight Sovereign.”
“No need, really. I came here today to say thanks. I would already be a corpse now if you didn’t save me after that match.”
Angor described his match against Parasite Queen. Even Prome was intrigued by the story a little.
“So Parasite Queen could invade someone’s soul? I’d admit it. I wouldn’t have expected that if I was the one fighting her,” Prome exclaimed.
Dave nodded along. “If we tell everyone how Parasite Queen really looks like, maybe her fans won’t keep ruining your name as badly.”
“It doesn’t matter. Apart from you and Master Prome, not many people know who I am.” Angor was optimistic enough. “Oh, by the way, tomorrow should be my last day in Sky Tower. When I’m done, I’ll have time to work on the alchemy weapon with Master Prome,” said Angor. He turned to look at Prome and asked, “Can you tell me about the weapon you’re making, sir? Such as what kind of properties you need on it?”