Chapter 75: Archmage! |
He could sense the ley lines, could perceive those azure, flowing currents of energy. They weren't turning a blind eye to him—they simply couldn't reach him.
Of course, he wasn't sure if this was an affinity he'd always possessed, or if it was a change that had occurred after that glance when he'd been forcibly converted into a Wild Warlock.
Even though forcing that shadow energy to back off was incredibly difficult, requiring tremendous effort, and even pushing with all his might could only open a tiny crack. Under that kind of pressure, even after breaking through the gap, it would be hard for him to cast spells.
But at least there was hope now. Allen's heart surged with emotion.
I can learn arcane magic. I'm a real, bona fide Archmage!
Without a doubt, he was being strongly urged to stay and study in Dalaran. Krasus would personally teach him, and Antonidas would personally teach Jaina.
After dealing with all the mess, Antonidas sent someone to take them to the most luxurious inn in Dalaran, the Magic Inn, located on the busiest street in the Violet District. Pushing open the window, one could see Dalaran's Violet Citadel.
Jaina followed behind, but her mind was completely elsewhere.
She was secretly calculating how she should phrase it when she got the chance, so she could naturally ask to stay in the room next to Allen.
Allen's voice came from ahead, interrupting her thoughts.
"I've safely delivered you to Dalaran. You've successfully enrolled in your studies—" He turned around, a relaxed smile on his face. "From now on, you're an official mage apprentice of Dalaran. Everything Varian asked me to do, I've completed."
Jaina's lips parted slightly. The words that had been circling on the tip of her tongue countless times hadn't even been spoken yet.
"So, we'll part ways here."
With that, Allen turned and slipped away.
He didn't even give Jaina a chance to speak.
His back disappeared from sight without a moment's hesitation.
Jaina stood there, a wave of indescribable bitterness washing over her heart.
He left.
Just like that, he left.
Not even a single... not even a single extra word.
She lowered her head, her fingers unconsciously clenching the money pouch at her waist.
The rope knot at the bag's opening had already been frayed by her constant rubbing. She had never been willing to replace it.
Jaina stood there in a daze for a long time. Then, footsteps echoed from the stairs.
Someone was coming down from above.
Jaina looked up.
A young man was descending the last few steps.
He wore a fitted tunic, with Lordaeron's royal crest embroidered on the collar and cuffs. His blond hair was neatly and crisply trimmed, with a few stray strands falling across his forehead, highlighting his young, remarkably bright face.
Arthas Menethil.
He stepped down onto the final stair, and his eyes happened to meet Jaina's.
Those eyes paused for a moment.
"This young lady," his voice was youthful and gentle, "judging by your travel gear, you've just arrived in Dalaran?"
"Oh, hello."
She said.
It was a completely irrelevant response. Clearly, her mind was elsewhere.
Arthas Menethil stood on the last step, looking at the young woman before him.
Sunlight streamed obliquely through the inn's arched window, landing perfectly on her blond hair, dyeing those soft strands in a warm halo of light.
Her eyes were bluer than any lake or any sea he had ever seen in Lordaeron—no, bluer than the sea, bluer than the sky, deeper than any shade of blue he had ever encountered in his entire life.
In that instant, he felt as if something had gently exploded in his chest, like the first spark of a fire in a winter hearth. Small, yet enough to warm his entire heart.
He had never felt anything like this before.
"Dalaran is a very beautiful city," he heard himself say, his voice lighter than he had intended. "If... you don't mind, miss, I could show you around. There's the magical fountain, the floating gardens, and that tower that's said to offer a view of all of Dalaran..."
He paused, smiling a little sheepishly. "Of course, if you already have company, then pretend I didn't say anything."
His fingers clenched slightly, then relaxed. His heart was racing, but he tried to make his smile look calm. He was the prince of Lordaeron. He should be calm.
But Jaina's thoughts had already drifted away.
Where did he go? Dalaran was so big; would she ever see him again?
That money pouch still hung at her waist. Why did he give her this money pouch?
Was it a casual gift, or did it mean something else? If it meant something else, what was it? Would they have a future together?
"I am Arthas Menethil. May I ask for your name?"
"Oh, hello."
Jaina nodded mechanically, then walked right past Arthas, heading towards her own room.
Arthas stood there stunned, having no idea what had just happened, feeling a hollow emptiness in his heart.
Hey, was that great atmosphere just now only in my own imagination?
-----------------
Before the entrance to Dalaran's sewers, Allen crouched down. A swarm of rats chattered away in front of him.
"It's down there?" "It's down there! It's down there!" "Big eyes! Bleeding!" "Scary! Scary!"
Allen nodded repeatedly. He pulled another piece of cheese from his pocket, broke it into pieces, and scattered it on the ground.
Found you, rats hiding in the sewers.
After Allen and Morgan had put away their luggage, they went and bought a huge pile of cheese. Using Speak with Animals, they bribed a bunch of rats, asking them to help search all of Dalaran for that bleeding pupil pattern.
And now, these rats had led them right to the entrance of the sewer tunnel.
He stood up, looking at the pitch-black entrance. A damp wind blew out from inside, carrying an indescribable smell.
Stella's face fell. "Benefactor, do we really have to go down there?"
Allen nodded. "Of course. Isn't this what we came here for?"
Morgan grasped his Archeus, his face resolute. "I didn't expect evil to be lurking even in Dalaran. It is our bounden duty."
A few rats tugged urgently at Allen's pant leg, eager for him to follow. Allen let out a breath. "Let's go."
Dalaran's sewers were far larger than they had imagined. It was practically an underground city. High vaulted ceilings loomed above; some areas were wide enough for two carriages to drive side by side, while others were so narrow only one person could squeeze through sideways.
Occasionally, a magical wall sconce flickered on the walls, but most were old and worn out. The light was dim and wavering, stretching and shortening the group's shadows, twisting and deforming them on the mottled walls.
The group carefully tread through the water, each step slow and deliberate.
Morgan walked in front, holding his sword aloft, his gaze sweeping cautiously into every dark corner.
Stella stuck close behind Allen, her eyes fixed on her new boots bought in Dalaran, her little face full of heartache.
But the rats acted as if they had returned to their most familiar territory. They hopped and skipped through the water, leaping from one stone platform to another.
They passed an abandoned portal. The runes on the frame were still there, but the other side had collapsed into a pile of rubble.
They also passed by a huge mural, depicting the scene of Dalaran's founding. But most of the paint had peeled off, leaving only a few blurry figures and half a tower.
As they rounded a corner, the wall beside them suddenly exploded.
A slime squeezed out from the hole in the wall.
It was emerald green all over, translucent, with all sorts of strange things trapped inside its body—a rusty dagger, shards of glass, a few moldy copper coins, someone's boot.
It stared at the group for three seconds.
Then it opened its mouth and spat out a rusty dagger.
It looked at the dagger again, seeming to feel that this threat wasn't big enough, so it tried to spit again, but only produced a stream of bubbles.
Enraged and humiliated, it hurled its entire body at the group, moving faster than expected.
The rats scurried away in fear. Allen drew Xal'atath.
Arcane Missiles!
Five or six purple missiles streaked through the air with shimmering, colorful trails, tracing graceful arcs, landing on the slime without a single miss.
Boom—!
Several large holes exploded in the slime's body, sending green slime splattering everywhere. It rolled twice on the ground, spat out a dirty-looking bag from its body, then scrambled back into the hole in the wall and disappeared.
Allen picked up the bag, wiped off the slime, and a system panel popped up.
[Strange Bag]
[Quality: Fine]
This bag doesn't look big, but it can hold things far larger than its own volume. Not only that, but items placed inside seem to undergo some... strange changes.
Allen raised an eyebrow and immediately tested it. He pulled the short sword he had brought from Goldshire from his belt and carefully stuffed it into the bag's opening.
The moment it was placed inside, the short sword actually turned into a single copper coin.
Allen picked up the bag but felt absolutely no weight to it.
He poured the copper coin out.
As it fell out, the coin transformed back into the short sword, clattering to the ground.
Everyone exchanged glances.
Allen felt a little guilty. This was... a good item.
Unfortunately, under the watchful eyes of everyone, it would be too awkward to just pocket it. He coughed twice. "This is a good thing. Do any of you want it?"
Morgan shook his head. He wasn't following Allen for the sake of treasure.
Stella also shook her head, grinning foolishly. "It's fine for my good things to stay with my benefactor."
The rats had gathered back again, pulling anxiously at Allen to move forward. With no other choice, Allen could only stuff the bag into his own pocket for now.
"Go, go, go! This way, this way!" "Almost there! Almost there!" "Scary eyes! Right up ahead!"
They rounded another bend, and a narrower passage appeared before them.
At the end of the passage was a lamp. Beneath the lamp was a human figure, crouching suspiciously by the wall, peering at something.
She wore a mage's robe, stained with quite a bit of grime. Her long, brown hair was messily tied back.
She seemed to hear the noise behind her and whipped her head around.
It was a young face. There were a few smudges of soot on it from who-knows-where.
The moment she saw Allen, her eyes went wide.
"It's you!" She pointed a trembling finger at Allen. "That jerk who tricked me with Malachite!"
Allen looked at her, recognizing her.
Amy Marlin?
Thanks for the invite. I'm in a foreign land, just emerged from the sewers, and I've run into a girl I once deceived.
What do I do now?
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