A Conversation with Baker

"Before I came here, I ran into Rufus."

Baker spoke out of the blue, looking at Dago.

Dago paused. A grotesque body covered in exposed flesh flashed through his mind.

The mutation went beyond the physical. It looked more like a distortion of reality's rules made flesh.

Wizards of the Dusk Crystal Church would use their own bodies as alchemical vessels to investigate the "truth" of life itself.

"I fought him. He mentioned you, too."

"What did he say about me?"

Dago lifted his teacup and took a small sip, keeping his expression neutral.

The bitter tea spread across his tongue. Rather than discomforting him, it stimulated his mind and kept his mental power highly active.

In the world of wizards, any exchange of information could conceal a deadly trap or a priceless opportunity.

"He was curious whether you were alive."

Baker said evenly, "As he sees it, the weak have no right to survive. But your earlier performance convinced him you were a 'specimen' still worth harvesting."

"How did your fight end?"

Dago knew such a blunt question was impolite. It touched on the secrets wizards guarded most closely.

But courtesy was often a false veil on the path to truth. Obtaining data directly was far more efficient.

Baker fell silent. For an instant, the elemental particles he had kept restrained seemed to fall into disarray, only to be forced back under control by his powerful mental power.

"Rufus practices the Ancient Blood Secret Art passed down within the Dusk Crystal Church. He's strong.

The art burns through one's life potential for a momentary burst of power. It can even briefly alter the rules of reality within a limited area.

With all the death and bloodshed in this upheaval, the conditions are perfect for him to grow stronger—like bacteria