Gourmet Illusion

Almost everyone aboard caught the rich aroma of cooked food at nearly the same moment. Before the feeding center in their hypothalamuses could issue the command to "eat," their vision blurred, and they all fell into an illusion woven from the scent of food.

Angel was no exception.

.

Before his eyes floated all manner of exquisite, vividly colored delicacies that made one itch to gorge oneself. Coupled with the rich fragrance lingering at the tip of his nose and refusing to disperse, Angel subconsciously reached for the nearby honey-glazed roast chicken leg.

When a certain desire swelled without limit, it could affect all of a person's physiological indicators, including reason. In other words, desire could interfere with the brain's reception of electrical information signals. As desire expanded, information could no longer safely reach the rational brain. At such times, what ruled a person's thoughts would be the emotional brain—or rather, the instinctive brain. Humanity's essence was still that of animals. The instinctive brain governed this part, blending emotions and desires, expressing the most primitive instincts like an animal.

When the urge to feed filled Angel's mind, he lost all reason. His logic became confused, his thoughts sluggish, as though he were an animal.

It was not only Angel. Every ordinary person aboard the ship had been controlled by the urge to feed, roaring madly as they cast their greatest covetousness upon the food within the illusion.

Just as Angel was about to drown in the tidal surge of appetite, an itch even more unbearable than hunger appeared near the butterfly bone on his back.

There was no tracing where that itch came from or where it manifested, but it arrived with overwhelming force. Like the foam of fine beer bursting forth before it was even opened after being jostled all the way, it instantly smothered everything else.

Itch—

So itchy—

It was as if tens of thousands of ants were crawling back and forth deep within his bones.

This was what it truly meant to itch to the marrow.

The sudden itch was not entirely a bad thing. At the very least, the maddening urge to feed was steadily retreating before this torrent-like wave of itching.

Anything, once it had a breach, could be overturned. Reason was the same. It had originally been controlled by emotion, unable to turn over beneath its oppression. Yet even the slightest slackening of emotion would allow reason to reclaim the high ground.

The itch robbed Angel even of his appetite, and he repeatedly reached back to scratch and rub himself. Yet it came quickly and left quickly. When it abruptly ceased, Angel discovered that his appetite had completely faded. Without appetite, the illusion woven from the aroma of food could no longer affect his reason.

Angel looked at the various foods still floating around him and felt a lingering fear. He knew full well that where the honey-glazed roast chicken leg near him appeared to be, there was no food at all. It was clearly the lamp wax he usually used.

If he had swallowed lamp wax as though it were a chicken leg... Angel shuddered violently. The consequences would have been too horrible to contemplate!

He did not dare touch those gourmet illusions again.

Something capable of creating such an illusion was either a sea beast born with innate talent or a wizard possessing extraordinary power. Angel did not dare speculate on why such an extraordinary being had done this, but neither did he wish to be ruled by desire again. Looking at the delicacies before him, he simply adopted the mindset of out of sight, out of mind and closed his eyes.

Perhaps the extraordinary being that had created the gourmet illusion had not possessed much killing intent. Since Angel did not touch the illusion, it did not trouble him again. This let Angel breathe a great sigh of relief.

Only then did Angel begin recalling what had happened when he had been ruled by appetite earlier.

After a long while, Angel touched his back in confusion—

It was this spot itching again. What exactly was going on? This place had itched more than once already, and every time it had been strange: coming quickly and leaving quickly, while there was nothing unusual to be found when he touched it.

Angel's brow furrowed tightly. He knew there was nothing abnormal about the itchy spot, at least not on the surface. The only unusual thing was probably the scratch left by that bizarre woman in the "illusion" during the talent test.

At first, Angel had thought it might have been an illusion created by the Eye of Abyras. After his talent test ended, he had deliberately looked in a mirror and found no wounds on his back.

But as these strange bouts of itching kept occurring, he began to suspect that perhaps that world had not been an illusion... but, as he had guessed during the talent test, a bizarre world parallel to reality.

Perhaps the place where his back had been scratched also contained the energy of that bizarre world, causing all these things to happen to him now.

Angel did not know whether his guess was correct, but with his current breadth of knowledge, this was the only conclusion he could draw.

Would the itch return? Apart from the itching, would there be even worse symptoms? He did not know. Beneath this unknown threat, Angel secretly decided that if he could get through the danger before him, he would definitely tell Moro about his condition the next time he saw him.

Time did not allow him to delay. Who knew whether his life would be threatened during the next bout of itching? Therefore, he could only seek Moro's help at close range, rather than wait until he had achieved something in his studies and investigate it alone.

While Angel's thoughts wandered, the Bauhinia had already sailed deep into the mist, and a group of people had arrived at the source of the "fragrant illusion."

On the back of the enormous falcon demon, Sanders, wearing a top hat and exuding the air of an elegant nobleman, remained silent. Flora, whose face bore a mysterious smile, sat at the edge of the falcon demon's wing, sizing up the people standing aboard the Bauhinia with malicious eyes.

On the Bauhinia's deck, five people stood on each side with Sabo at the head. Besides the guides from the three major wizard organizations, Moro and Isley, who had just advanced to a first-level wizard apprentice, were also among them.

Flora studied Sabo and the others for a long while before suddenly smiling softly. In that strange voice that was both childish and alluring, she said, "Hee hee hee, Mad Bear Sabo, when did you start moonlighting as a babysitter? Are you nursing a bunch of children?"

The guides from the three major wizard academies, who had been called "children," silently lowered their heads.

Though Sabo felt anger at Flora's mockery, he did not dare make any unusual move in front of Sanders. He could only pretend not to hear the sarcasm and respond with a hearty laugh.

"Hahaha, the Blood Witch is joking. It's rare to come across Gloria's restaurant. These ignorant youngsters all wanted to broaden their horizons," Sabo explained with a laugh.

Flora narrowed her beautiful eyes and sneered inwardly. Broadening their horizons was a lie; they truly wanted to freeload food and drink at Gloria's restaurant... But Gloria was no easy chef to deal with. Freeload a meal? Not a chance!

Gloria was a typical example of the lunatics in Candy House. Though they appeared giggly, laughing and crazed, they would never yield an inch on matters of principle.

And there was only one way to enter Gloria's restaurant: possess an invitation card.

Without an invitation card, even a legendary wizard would be refused by Gloria.

This time, to enter Gloria's restaurant, Sanders had paid no small price to obtain a bronze-grade invitation card.

Heh heh. Flora suddenly began looking forward to the expressions on these unruly fools' faces when they learned the truth.