Babasha

Brando had the gargoyle release its claws, and he and Charles descended onto the soft meadow. In the silent woods atop the hill, they saw a crooked wooden house—a slum-like dwelling two stories high, with dim candlelight leaking through the gaps between its planks.

"My lord, this is the place you said we could level up?" Charles loosened his aching wrists where the gargoyle had gripped him and scrutinized the house before them, his face full of deep suspicion. "I'm not questioning you, my lord, but no matter how I look at it, this seems more like the sort of place those witches in Brunson live."

"You're not wrong. This is a witch's residence."

"Oh, witches do have methods to temporarily increase one's strength."

"No. Temporary power is too fragile."

"Then your goal is spirit magic, my lord? Spirit magic is indeed an expedient measure in an emergency. But those evil spirits from the lower worlds aren't easy to deal with. I do know a few ways to deceive them, though I've never tried them myself—" Brando headed toward the wooden house as the young man followed close behind, talking.

"Charles, remember to tell me next time. But this time, we're here to make a deal."

"A deal?"

Brando had already reached the door. He stopped, tensed his body, and slowly adjusted his breathing.

Only he knew that the witch named Babasha who lived here was merely a front. When nobles designed their family castles, they often left an emergency escape passage. As the original owner of Yusong Castle, Duke Golan-Elson was a stubborn conservative who had made countless enemies in political circles, so the castle's tunnel had been built all the way to this hill, deliberately avoiding densely populated areas.

As Duke Golan-Elson's wizard advisor, it was only natural for Babasha to guard the tunnel exit here for her lord. Players had only discovered this secret during the Second Black Rose War, after repeatedly fighting Madara for Yusong Castle without success and finally obtaining the castle's blueprints.

Brando was also thoroughly familiar with Babasha, this level-32 witch. When he had leveled in Ridenburg, this was the only shop that sold mysterious items. Back then, Brando was inexperienced with the game and loved gambling on luck, and this old hag had swallowed quite a bit of his hard-earned money.

But that was no longer the important part. The important question was how he could subdue this one-ring wizard and ensure the next part of his plan could proceed. One hand remained on his sword hilt the entire time, his fingers icy cold from excessive tension.

After hesitating for a moment, he curled his fingers and knocked three times on the wooden door, tilted at a seventy-degree angle and marked with one long and one short slit.

A sharp, aged voice soon came from the second floor. "Who is it? If you want a divination, come back during the day."

"I don't want a divination. I brought some things."

"You wish to make a deal? Do you know the rules?" The voice upstairs paused before asking.

"I have something you need, witch."

"Is that so? You'd better produce something I want, or I'll dig out your heart and feed it to my dog." The shrill voice traveled down from the second floor, accompanied by the thump-thump-thump of footsteps descending the stairs.

The door quickly opened, revealing an ugly old face. The witch stared at him for a long while with murky eyes beneath her hood, then said, "Speak quickly."

Without a second thought, Brando drew his sword with a hiss and placed it against her neck. The move caught everyone by surprise; even Charles beside him jumped. Was this any way to make a deal with someone?

His entire body had been wound tight as a bowstring when he drew his sword, and now that he had succeeded, he felt weak all over. He let out a breath, his sword hand trembling slightly—if Babasha had reacted even a fraction of a second faster, she had more than ten ways to reduce him to ashes with a single spell.

Fortunately, this old hag had likely grown too accustomed to comfort. Relying on the strength of a one-ring wizard, she had not considered a lower Black Iron swordsman like him worth noticing. Perhaps Babasha still believed that even with a sword at her neck, she had a chance. But as far as Brando was concerned, the outcome of the battle had already been decided at that moment.

Charles was frightened out of his wits as well. Breaking out of prison or causing trouble for an earl had seemed like child's play compared to this moment. The instant Babasha opened the door, he had recognized her—a one-ring wizard. Martha above, a high-ranking witch like her could slap ten of him to death.

Yet his lord had put a sword to her throat without saying a word.

"Young man, what do you think you're doing?" Babasha's face turned cold as she asked shrilly.

"Before your left little finger completes the movement of its third joint, my sword will pierce your heart. I've heard witches say that the heart is the source of a person's Health, corresponding to the magic triangle from afar. I've always wanted to test whether that's true." Brando answered coldly. "Of course, if I were you, I would stop this foolish action immediately."

The moment he said that, Babasha and Charles both underwent a drastic change of expression.

Charles thought, This old hag was casting a spell? I couldn't tell at all. That must be an incredibly profound advanced spellcasting technique—but how did my lord recognize it?

Babasha was even more shaken. A swordsman with not the slightest ripple of magic around him had recognized her spellcasting technique at a glance and even accurately identified which stage of the incantation she was currently on. Had the world turned upside down?

"What do you want?" Her mind reeling, she softened her attitude and asked.

"Duke Golan-Elson seems to have no friends in the capital. He must have lent Yusong Castle to that count only because the man was a close minister of His Majesty. Since that is the case, why should you die for a stranger?"

Though Brando spoke with apparent confidence, the hand holding his sword was trembling faintly. He watched every detail of Babasha's movements and every shift in her Eyes, afraid that she might try something. A level thirty or forty wizard should have held no secrets for him, but his Perception Attribute was too low. He could only make guesses and bluff his way through it.

Brando felt that they were now competing to see who had the greater nerve.

Babasha's expression changed again. "What did you say?"

"My request is simple. I want you to swear upon your natal star that you will lend me Yusong Castle's secret passage once. Only once. I won't tell anyone about it."

The old hag looked at Brando as though he were a monster. Aside from Duke Golan-Elson, she was the only person who knew about Yusong Castle's secret passage. Even the duke's personal retainers and family knew nothing of it. How did this young man know? Could he be Duke Golan-Elson's illegitimate son?

"What if I refuse?"

"I don't want to kill anyone."

Only then did Babasha realize she had no room to bargain. After thinking it over, she could only yield. Trembling, she raised a hand and pointed toward the Witch's Throne, preparing to swear—but Brando shook his head.

"Babasha, isn't your natal constellation Serpens?"

The witch shuddered all over. How did he know? She could not help looking into his dark eyes, as though every secret she possessed lay exposed beneath his piercing gaze. One's natal constellation was a witch's greatest secret; she had revealed hers only to Duke Golan-Elson, in order to gain his trust. Babasha found Brando increasingly mysterious and no longer dared play any tricks. She obediently pointed at her natal constellation and swore a vicious oath.

Only then did Brando let out a breath of relief. His back was already soaked through with sweat. He lowered his sword and said to Charles beside him, "Charles, go take the scroll from the far right of the first row on the shelf behind us. Also the box in the middle of the second row, and the three reagent bottles at the far left of the third row. Don't touch anything else."

By now, Charles admired his lord so completely that he practically worshipped him. Earlier, while they were in the air, he had flattered Brando by calling him unfathomable. But now, he genuinely felt that this lord of his was somewhat unfathomable.

Babasha, meanwhile, felt as though she had fallen into a bottomless abyss. Without even looking, this young man knew which things on her shelves were genuinely useful and which were decoys filled with vicious curses. Those were secrets that truly only she herself knew.

But when Charles opened the box, he cried out in delight. "These are Elemental Crystals! My lord, if you spend some time absorbing them, you can use them directly!"

Brando shook his head, walked over, picked up the three dusty reagent bottles from the bottom shelf, and asked, "Do you know what these are?"

Babasha also raised her head in confusion. Even this old hag herself did not know what the three bottles contained. At her level, she could instinctively sense the magical ripples emitted by certain objects, so she had kept them—yet over the years, they had accumulated a thick layer of dust.

Reagents were not things one could test casually. Poisons could kill, and even beneficial potions could cause someone to die without apparent illness if used incorrectly.

Magic had always been something powerful, mysterious, and dangerous.

Sharmar took a couple of looks, then shook his head.

"This is a Mana Potion. How can you not even recognize this?" Brando complained slightly as he wiped the dust from the bottle, revealing the pale blue liquid beneath.

"Impossible!" Babasha and Sharmar stared in shock.

"Why are you so surprised? It's just a magic potion. What I'm asking is this: these three Mana Potions can raise your mana fourfold. Ignoring any changes in spell power, what rank of wizard do you think you'd roughly equal with four times your mana?"

"A mid-level wizard," Sharmar answered stiffly.

"So that's what I meant by the three benchmarks. With three Mana Potions, until you've used them up, you're a mid-level wizard. But in reality, you're still only an apprentice. Understand now?"

Sharmar nodded instinctively, but those were Mana Potions—known as the gold of wizards. They were products derived from advanced alchemy, no easier to produce than holy water. He himself had only ever seen them in parchment scrolls, and Brando was just casually giving them to him?

Brando picked up the long parchment scroll from the top of the shelf. "This scroll records the secret of how ascetics compress the air along both sides of their blades to make them sharp. Skills are part of Attributes. That's the three benchmarks. Do you understand now what I meant by coming here to improve ourselves?"

"Learning a skill isn't something that can be done overnight, is it? Is cramming at the last minute before battle really useful, Lord—" Sharmar immediately replied, but then he saw Brando unroll the scroll, sweep his eyes over it, and casually toss it aside. The scroll landed on the ground with a hollow thud. Brando stood there blankly for several seconds, then suddenly swung his sword backward toward the cabin door. With a crack, the doorframe snapped apart from several feet away, and the door split into two pieces that drifted more than ten meters outside before hitting the ground.

Sharmar's mouth fell open, his jaw nearly dropping to the floor.

Brando even frowned. Just learning this skill had cost 153 Skill XP. And it wasn't even a cross-class skill. The cost of mid-level skills was absurd. The forum said this skill needed to be raised to at least level 25—wouldn't the experience required be Arabian Nights?

Still, he considered it worthwhile. After all, in his previous life, he had learned only a little over ten mid-level skills in total, and half of those had been Class Skills. This scroll had once been the closest he had come to obtaining a mid-level skill in the early stages of the game, but he had missed it because of a bit of bad luck.

So regardless of whether he was going ahead with the next plan, the skill on this scroll was something he had to acquire. Now, it was merely convenient.

He lowered his sword, turned to Babasha, and said, "I'll borrow these things of yours for a while. No problem, right?" He called it borrowing, but it was practically robbery. Still, the Old Hag was no good person herself, so he felt little guilt about it.

But Brando had only asked casually. He had not expected Babasha to drop to her knees with a thump, bow deeply, and press her forehead to the ground. "The Black Prophecy says that only the Dark Dragon can see through all the witches' secrets. Any method is nothing but a trick In front of you; you see into people's hearts and understand all things. Ancestor of the Min'er People, so you have returned at last—"

This time, Brando and Sharmar were both stunned.

(PS. On Christmas Eve, should I eat instant noodles or fried rice?)