Playing at Being a Mystic

In truth, Kronos had a vague idea of the reason.

The power of time was far too advanced. The abilities granted by the Time Stone were rather different from the Beyonder abilities of the Paths of the Divine.

The Paths of the Divine largely broke an authority down into smaller parts, which one gradually mastered at each Sequence, until finally becoming a god and gaining control over the entire authority.

The Time Stone's approach, however, was somewhat crude. It simply acted as an intermediary: the host supplied spirituality, and the stone supplied the service.

Thus, Kronos did not actually control the power of time. Without being able to grasp its principles, there was little he could do, even with the complete spell-creation process in the Spell Grimoire.

In the end, Kronos decided to wait until he found suitable materials, then try casting spells through the Time Stone. He just did not know whether that would count as creating one.

While Kronos was playing at being a mystic, Gner watched from a distant hillside, holding a roasted rabbit.

The sneaky bastard had plunged straight into the woods after Kronos left, planning to catch something tasty.

Although he was neither a hunter nor a Beyonder of the Hunter Pathway, he was still a Sequence 8 Pugilist. Taking on a wild wolf or the like would be no problem.

Before long, Gner returned with a rabbit, built a fire, and began roasting it.

He had heard about Kronos's "playing at being a mystic" plan-originally called the acting plan; Gner had come up with the new name himself-so he had deliberately found a spot with a good view to watch Kronos's "performance" while eating his rabbit.

If Kronos knew Gner was treating this mortifying moment as entertainment, he would definitely give him a good beating. As for whether he could actually win? Such minor details could be ignored.

Looking at the crowd before him, some kneeling, some whispering, and some skeptical, Kronos canceled his spell and landed.

"Everyone, I'm no god. I'm merely a warlock traveling the world. I was passing through and hoped to ask for a drink of water." Kronos resorted to the oldest trick in the book: asking for water.

Whether he was a god or a warlock, the villagers certainly did not want to offend someone like him. A little water was nothing.

And so the crowd escorted Kronos to the village chief's home. Not many actually believed he was a warlock yet; most were simply there to enjoy the spectacle.

After taking a sip of water, Kronos said, "You are all kind people. Is there anything I can help you with?"

This was the main event. Merely assuming an identity did not amount to much acting. He had to cast a few spells, at least.

Just then, a disdainful voice came from the crowd. "If you're so powerful, why don't you clear the weeds from our fields?"

It happened to be sowing season, and the most arduous tasks before sowing were weeding and tilling. Those were the jobs occupying the villagers every day.

Kronos smiled. "Certainly. I'll clear all the weeds for you."

A stir swept through the watching villagers. He had actually dared to agree.

Kronos turned to the village chief. "Chief, where are your village's fields?"

"Just north of the village, in the direction you came from," the chief answered truthfully.

Normally, a village's fields would surround it, but this village was unusual. An extinct volcano stood to its south, so all its farmland lay to the north. That was fortunate. Fields scattered all around would have been even more troublesome.

"Then could I trouble you to take me there?" Kronos asked, still smiling.

The village chief said nothing, merely nodding.

Once they arrived, Kronos's smile stiffened. He had been far too hasty. He had never imagined a single village could have so much farmland. It stretched as far as he could see.

That really came down to Kronos's lack of practical experience. His own family actually owned hundreds, if not thousands, of times more farmland than this village.

Sigh. No helping it. I talked big, so now I have to grit my teeth and follow through.

Kronos scattered material that looked like ground pearls. It mingled with certain natural forces he had stirred into motion, raising an invisible warm breeze that drained the plants of vitality and withered them.

This was the Weed-Clearing Spell. In fact, it did not target weeds alone. Any other plants within its range would probably be eliminated indiscriminately too, but the fields had not yet been sown, so there were only weeds.

Unfortunately, the Weed-Clearing Spell covered less than ten mu. The three hundred mu or more before him would probably drain Kronos dry.

Still, he had no choice but to press on, and he had to look impressive while doing it.

So rather than walk, Kronos scattered silver dust. "Levitation Spell." His entire body slowly floated forward.

He left a crowd of slack-jawed villagers behind him. Some even dropped to their knees again.

Kronos floated slowly through the air, and not just to show off. More importantly, he took the opportunity to form a hand seal and begin meditating.

None of the Nine Secrets' hand seals actually accelerated the recovery of spirituality, but forming them allowed him to enter a meditative state quickly, and the meditation itself was more effective than ordinary meditation.

After floating for two or three minutes and traveling about two hundred meters, Kronos landed and cast another Weed-Clearing Spell.

And so he floated for a while, then cast a Weed-Clearing Spell, keeping at it for the entire morning. He swore he would never visit another village with farmland. Weeding was far too exhausting.

After clearing every last weed, Kronos returned to his starting point. The villagers were still waiting there. Nearly half were on their knees, and the rest gazed at him with devotion.

This was why no one in the Argel Family had dared act as a warlock all these years. It felt like preaching, like gathering believers. If an orthodox church caught him, he would die a horrible death.

He had originally planned to leave early tomorrow morning, but now he clearly had to leave today. These colonial islands were all under the jurisdiction of the Church of Storms. If those hotheads caught him, his death would be even worse.

Kronos regarded everyone with a gentle expression. "The weeds have all been cleared. Is there anything else you need my help with?"

"Esteemed Warlock, thank you so much for your help. It's already noon, so why don't we treat you to a meal?" the village chief said with great deference.

Kronos nodded, then said, "Certainly. I actually came because I heard your cured meat has a distinctive flavor. This is the perfect chance to try it."

Whatever else might be said about Gner, his timing was impeccable. Just as they were discussing lunch, he arrived in the carriage.

"Hey, you over there! Is that the village that sells volcano-smoked cured meat?" Gner waved from the roadside and shouted.

But with Kronos the warlock present, no one paid Gner any attention.

Gner had not expected Kronos to be so accomplished at playing the mystic. Left with no choice, he jumped down from the carriage and jogged over to the crowd.

"Hello, I'm a merchant from Backlund. I heard your cured meat is quite unique, and I'd like to purchase a batch. Is there someone who could discuss it with me?"

Now that he was right in front of them, ignoring him would have been rather rude, so the village chief could only say, "Then come along with us too."

Then he turned to Kronos apologetically. "Esteemed Warlock, would you mind?"

The same gentle smile remained on Kronos's face. "Not at all. Let's go together."

Gner looked at Kronos and inwardly grumbled, Those orthodox churches are really missing out by not hiring you to preach. You're a born con artist.

Once they entered the village, everyone returned to the chief's home. By then, news of the arrival of a warlock with supernatural powers had spread throughout the village.

Household after household brought out their finest possessions and hurried to the chief's home. Most brought food, having heard that the warlock would be eating in the village.

They brought out their finest treasured cured meat, along with aged liquor and vegetables and fruit considered precious on the island.

Not only that, but some also brought strange objects passed down from their ancestors, hoping to offer them to the warlock in exchange for blessings or the like.

Following the principle that "a thief never leaves empty-handed"-no, that should have been "since I'm already here"-Kronos activated his Eyes of Mystery Prying to see whether anything valuable lay among these oddities. If there was, he would accept it. He could always compensate them.

Ordinary villagers could not sense it, but Gner was close enough to notice what Kronos had done. He rolled his eyes.

The heir to a marquis, coming all this way to take advantage of villagers. How disgraceful.

Kronos himself hardly cared about that, but unfortunately, there was nothing worthwhile.

Every one of these objects carried traces of the Spirit World. A low-Sequence Beyonder examining them with Spirit Vision alone might have paid a hefty sum to buy the lot.

Under the Eyes of Mystery Prying, however, their true nature was laid bare. Two of the objects might develop some Beyonder abilities if nourished by the Spirit World's aura for another few decades, but they were useless to Kronos.

Since there was nothing worthwhile, Kronos had an image to maintain. Stand aside, everyone. Time to show off!

"As a kindhearted warlock, helping everyone is only natural. How could I accept payment from you? If you need anything, please speak freely. If I can help, I will certainly do everything in my power."

Kronos maintained an exceptionally gentle tone throughout. Coupled with his warm smile, it made him an absolute magnet for goodwill.

But as Kronos showed off here without restraint, he paid absolutely no heed to Gner's suffering beside him.

Gner felt so sick he wanted to throw up, but could only force it down until his face turned bright red.