Prophetic Ritual

Although Sart's talent as a Prophet wasn't great, and he was just a paper-pusher at the Star Tower, his academic abilities were definitely not an issue.

This could be seen from Julian's commission.

Siosand was here representing the strongest prophet of the Star Tower's Silver Tier, while Sart...

In a sense, Julian believed that Sart, a Bronze Tier prophet, could team up with Siosand to resolve this issue. He and Siosand were actually on roughly the same level.

He could clearly distinguish which spices were flawed from these complex scents, without needing any other methods of identification.

If it were usual times, he might have just turned a blind eye. After all, it was only a few types of spices, and they were all replaceable. Except for some obscure rituals, they were mostly not needed.

But the problem was, these spices had a significant purpose this time; they were to be used in combat against Silver Tier cultists.

This was a matter of life and death. Did Colin dare to play dirty here?

And his direct superior was right here!

Sart was only nice to Aaron; if it were anyone else, he'd be a second-generation heir of the Star Tower.

Bals snorted, "Colin, what's going on?"

Colin swallowed and quickly said, "I... I'm not really sure."

Although he said that, everyone present knew that his behavior clearly indicated he knew about this.

"It's fine, these spices all have replacements," Sart said casually. He then took out a pair of dark, leather fingerless gloves from his satchel and put them on. "It won't affect the operation."

"Colin, you've served me for many years and know my temper..." Bals said coldly. "After this matter is concluded, I will investigate it thoroughly."

"Of... Of course, Lord Bals," Colin agreed repeatedly, relieved slightly.

"What's this?" Aaron watched as Sart carefully brushed the bottom-most liquid onto the gloves and sprinkled some powder.

It seemed he was following a specific pattern, only sprinkling a certain amount of powdered spices on specific areas. Moreover, his movements were extremely fast, and in the blink of an eye, both gloves were covered in spices of various colors.

"This is considered pre-battle preparations for a prophet," Sart hadn't responded until he finished coating the gloves with spices, then let out a long sigh and answered Aaron's question. "It would be truly foolish to participate in combat while carrying a clumsy spice box."

Through a special neutral adhesive, various spices could adhere to the gloves. If they encountered danger, a prophet could immediately prepare a simple ritual.

Even though the spices attached to the gloves were extremely limited, they could often save a prophet's life at a critical moment.

As a Star Tower student, Sart's practical theory class scores were top-notch.

These spice gloves were also an improved upgrade he made based on the existing equipment for storing spices.

Sart casually moved his fingers and then looked down, pouring out a crimson liquid from the spice box. He looked at Bals, "Lord City Lord, I'll prepare the ritual now."

Before Bals could reply, Colin, with his attendants, had already eagerly retreated.

Sart paid it no mind. He quickly drew a circle on the wooden table. Strangely, the liquid his finger traced condensed at a visible speed, turning into dark red crystals in the blink of an eye.

For some reason, Aaron felt the atmosphere around them begin to become oppressive.

"If the powder of Shining Root, the powder of Rotten Blue Moon Grass, and the juice of Dragon Scale Grass are contaminated, Spirit Powder can be used as a neutralizing agent and substitute. If there's no Sleepless Grass, Amethyst Powder can be considered as a replacement..."

Sart, who had entered the state of ritual preparation, was like a completely different person. He muttered words only he could understand, yet with his other hand, he was rapidly arranging various spices on the dark red crystal surface.

With each spice added, the dark red crystal would brighten. And when Sart sprinkled a small amount of Spirit Powder onto this crystal surface, the entire crystal surface suddenly ignited.

Aaron, who was close by, felt no heat at all, as if this flame was just an illusion.

Yet, he could see the spices disappearing at a visible speed. In a daze, he seemed to hear some whispers again.

"Alice, throw the card into the ritual," Sart's voice was unusually vacant, but his expression was solemn, his eyes almost filled with silvery-white starlight.

His soul began to wander within this temporarily constructed ritual space, barely preventing itself from getting lost with only a slight connection to his physical body.

Innumerable indescribable illusions appeared before him, but he suppressed his curiosity, awaiting Alice's response.

As a prophet, he needed a mark, a guide, something to let his soul and instincts know what he was searching for.

They had no information about the cultists, but they had that "Crawling Hand" card.

The bronze card was smoothly thrown into the illusory flame. The card slowly shattered under the licking of the flames, and countless dark shadows suddenly emerged from the flames.

The atmosphere grew even more oppressive, and Aaron even faintly felt the suffocating sensation from before.

At this moment, his hand felt cold.

He subconsciously looked down; it was Alice's hand.

"Calm down, perhaps you can obtain additional extraordinary information from the ritual," Alice whispered.

Perhaps due to the candlelight in the room, Aaron felt that Alice's face seemed a little flushed.

"What exactly is that card?"

Perhaps because of the ritual, the atmosphere was extremely oppressive, making people involuntarily lower their voices. Aaron leaned close to Alice's ear and whispered.

"That's a polymer of extraordinary energy. After you advance from Black Iron to Bronze, you'll also have a card like that, which means you're finally qualified to wield extraordinary power."

Alice seemed unaccustomed to being so close to Aaron, turning her head to avoid him and giving him a fierce glare. The soft, boneless hand instantly became as hard as steel.

Hiss...

Aaron couldn't help but gasp, as Bals and Ed cast curious glances their way.

Before he could think further, a crisp shattering sound came from the illusory fire, like broken glass, and several pitch-black cracks silently appeared on the flame.

Instantly, endless black shadows surged from the flames, baring fangs and brandishing claws, outlining countless pairs of pitch-black arms.

Darkness banished the light, and the bright candlelight was precarious at this moment.

Clearly, they were still as bright as ever, but the darkness unceremoniously occupied everything, leaving only scattered space for the candlelight.

"Something seems a bit off."

Sart's voice came from the deep darkness, distant as if the ends of the earth.