Had it dreamed, only to forget what the dream had been?
The Cruel Scholar's blue flame eyes quietly watched the Little Demon Wicks, as if pondering something. After a moment, the flames flickered faintly.
It neither rebuked him nor pressed the matter further.
The Cruel Scholar's will acted directly upon the flame within the lantern.
Whoosh!
Accompanied by a howl, the pale blue flames surged upward, breaking free from the wick's restraints and twisting, coiling through the void.
In the end, despite having no medium at all, they seared a strange inscription into existence.
The inscription's overall structure was so intricate that it made one dizzy.
Yet if one disregarded the detailed patterns that appeared to be mere ornamentation, it roughly resembled a narrow eye within a triangular shape.
At that moment.
The pale blue eye within the inscription, nearly identical to the Cruel Scholar's own, slowly opened in midair, radiating an icy ripple steeped in divinity.
Under the influence of those ripples, Wicks distinctly felt as though his thoughts had sunk into a mire. No matter what he contemplated, there was a detached sense of estrangement.
It felt somewhat like viewing flowers through mist—he could vaguely sense them, yet could never reach out and touch them.
Just as Wicks felt his thoughts bobbing and sinking, the Cruel Scholar's voice entered his ears. "Do not let your thoughts run wild. Concentrate."
Its voice was like bone-chilling ice water, instantly clearing his mind.
Although Wicks still felt a certain barrier in his thoughts, the "delay" in his thinking was at least no longer as severe as before.
"Master, did I do something wrong?"
Wicks asked weakly. He did not know what the inscription in the air meant, but from how it felt, it seemed like a punishment.
The Cruel Scholar did