Chapter 64: Purchase
Raven returned to the Capital without any trouble and headed straight for Baker Street, where the Mystic Cauldron stood like a polished jewel among the merchant blocks. The brass bell chimed as he pushed open the door.
"It's been a while, Mr. Holmes."
A silver-haired woman in a crisp formal dress greeted him near the entrance, her smile professional and pleasant.
"Good to see you, Miss Anastasia," Raven replied, tipping his hat.
Truthfully, he'd hoped to avoid this shop after the Ravenshield Family recreated his potion and crippled his income. But the Mystic Cauldron was one of the few establishments that stocked every rare ingredient he needed. The rest—those controlled by the Wizard Alliance—were best avoided for now.
"For now, I should stay far away from them," he thought.
"Are you here to buy, or sell?" Anastasia asked.
"To buy. Quite a lot."
She raised a brow but nodded and led him toward the ingredient hall.
"What kind of potion materials?"
Raven smiled faintly.
"My senior is researching an upgraded version of the Mind of Insight. He needs to experiment with more than seventy ingredients before finalizing the formula." He took out a notebook from his inventory and offered it.
Anastasia opened the list—and her expression stiffened.
"Bloodroot Orchid—twenty-five units. Dragon's Vein Powder—five hundred grams… Crimson Drake Scales… Moss of Malady…"
Her professional calm wavered for the first time.
"All of these are Rank-2 Adept potion ingredients," she murmured. "And you want twenty-five sets of each?"
She glanced up, unsure whether she should question him again.
Servants moved swiftly as she ordered them to retrieve the items.
"Are you certain you can afford the cost, Mr. Holmes?" she asked after calculating just one portion of the list.
Raven silently placed a golden bank card on the counter.
"I earned millions selling the Mind Elixir. Please continue."
A faint, forced smile appeared on her lips.
For more than two hours, she calculated one ingredient after another. When she finally finished, she exhaled.
"Six hundred sixty-five thousand gold coins."
Behind her, dozens of cubic glass crates were neatly arranged—seventy full sets of materials.
Raven took out five large leather bags and set them on the table.
"Seven thousand five hundred platinum coins," he said. Then added, "And I'm not done."
Anastasia straightened unconsciously.
"What… else do you need?"
"Rank-2 magical beast corpses."
She blinked once, recomposing herself, and led him deeper into the building. The air grew colder as they stepped into a warehouse lined with enormous ice blocks—each containing a magical beast preserved in perfect condition.
Raven scanned the room until his gaze locked onto a hulking humanoid, its forehead marked with a vertical third eye, jaw full of serrated teeth.
"A Three-Eyed Giant," he muttered. "I'll take it."
He moved through the warehouse, monocle glowing faintly. After a full inspection, he selected four corpses: the Three-Eyed Giant, a Twin-Headed Black Serpent, a Snow Wyvern, and a War Troll.
The total cost came to 394,000 gold coins.
'Why the Troll corpse?' Raven asked inwardly.
[Orcs, Trolls, Ogres, Ettins, Cyclopes, Half-Trolls, Half-Giants—every one of them is a subspecies of Giants. Giants themselves are subspecies of Titans. Troll parts can substitute for any of them.]
'So I'll have to hunt Titans one day?'
[Of course. Titans, Dragons, Vampires, any mythical creature your path demands. That is the road of a Warlock.]
Raven absorbed the answer with a silent nod and turned back to Anastasia.
"Next, I want equipment."
"What kind?" Anastasia asked, though her voice betrayed the strain of watching him spend over a million coins without blinking.
"Uncommon. Rare. And if you have any—Epic."
She led him through another set of rune-shielded doors. Metal arrays pulsed as they opened, revealing rows of gleaming weapons and artifacts, each sealed behind enchanted glass.
"This is our vault," Anastasia said softly. "If you're searching for something specific, we can begin with weapons."
Raven walked past swords, daggers, bows—and Aether Rifles lined in immaculate rows.
[Are you truly buying them?] Zera asked. [With Runeth's memories cleansed, you can craft superior models easily.]
I'm checking for unique pieces, Raven replied. And I want to understand the Aether Rifle structure.
[Fair enough. Ember Pistols from Edhen suffered from long cooldowns, but the principle is similar. If we decrypt the core arrays, we could fuse two weapons into something far stronger.]
Raven nodded subtly and addressed Anastasia.
"I'd like to know more about the Aether Rifles."
She guided him to a glass case.
"There are four categories—C, U, R, and E."
She lifted the first rifle.
"C-Type. Used for hunting Rank-1 Magical Beasts. Around 1,500 to 2,000 joules and an 800 m/s shot speed. Long cooldown—thirty seconds."
She replaced it and picked another with a polished silver muzzle.
"This is U-Type, like the one carried by the Mercenary Captain you hired. Up to 20,000 joules. Some models, like the Starflare-18U, have wounded early Rank-3 Magical Beasts."
Finally, she approached a dark-iron rifle veined with glowing Alexandrite.
"This is our newest R-Type: Starflare-3R. Made by the Sterlinghart Family. Only four in stock. Its output reaches eighty-nine thousand joules. It fires a concentrated ray fueled by fire elemental energy."
Raven examined it with his monocle.
"For a single shot," he muttered, "it consumes a Rank-2 Fire Elemental Crystal?"
"One crystal per attack," Anastasia confirmed. "And it has a six-hour cooldown."
Raven's eyebrow twitched.
"That explains the price."
"Five hundred forty thousand gold coins," she said. "We originally purchased them for five hundred thousand each. The only reason we're willing to accept a small loss is to compensate you for the damage caused by our family's potion intervention."
"And the E-Series?" Raven asked.
"Available only through the Wizard Auction House. Most are purchased by military, high-ranking Wizards, or the Twelve Ancient Noble Families. Even the oldest E-Types cost millions."
Zera's voice echoed softly.
[A single E-Type can kill a Rank-4 at close range. They verge on Pseudo-Legendary.]
Raven nodded.
"I'll take the Starflare-3R."
An assistant quickly secured it for packaging.
"Anything else?" Anastasia asked.
"A Rare-rank spatial artifact."
She displayed several rings and bracelets.
"All contain between one hundred fifty and two hundred cubic meters of storage. Prices range from one hundred to one hundred fifty thousand."
Raven inspected them carefully and selected a silver bracelet with two hundred cubic meters of space.
[Inventory feels redundant now.]
No. Inventory is soul-bound. Spatial artifacts can be stolen by Spatial Wizards.
After a brief search through armor and accessories—none of which impressed him—Raven asked, "Total?"
Anastasia checked her notes.
"One million, seven hundred forty-one thousand. You may pay one point seven million."
Raven set down seven more leather bags filled with platinum coins.
She bowed slightly. He had spent nearly two and a half million in under an hour.
He left without fanfare.
Outside, he boarded a carriage and leaned back.
"I need rest," he murmured.
The driver nodded and took him to a nearby inn named Wolf's Shift. Raven paid for a single room and collapsed onto the bed, closing his eyes to enter the Memory Library.
He appeared in the endless hall of shelves—and Zera materialized beside him in a crimson gown, holding a cage of fire.
Inside it was the owl.
Frozen. Unmoving. Eyes glassy.
"The thing that kept forcing me through trials?" Raven asked in disbelief. "You caught it?"
"Entering someone's Sea of Consciousness is never easy," Zera said mildly.
"Why does it look like that?"
"I froze its body." She made the cage vanish and lifted the still bird. "And I extracted what matters."
"Memories?" Raven frowned.
Zera nodded.
"This owl is a fragment—the Fragment of Seer."
Raven blinked. "A Seer artifact? Is it powerful?"
"Where should I begin?" Zera mused. "A true Seer can see past, present, future. This fragment likely contains at least three Legendary-tier time spells."
"But I already have two time spells. And plenty of Time spellbooks. If I train Ronald into a Seer—"
"That would take centuries," Zera cut him off. "Perhaps millennia. This owl, however…" She tapped it lightly. "Is strong enough to kill a Rank-5 powerhouse."
Raven stiffened.
"But it is malicious," Zera continued. "Without a magic contract binding it, it will eventually find a way to kill you."
She set the owl aside.
"Before binding it, we must verify something."
"What?"
"The compass. It guided you to this fragment. And Jovie sensed something hidden inside it—something more than simple artifact-location." Her voice grew serious. "Use your spirit power. Probe the inside. If you find an array, imprint yourself onto it."
Raven nodded and exited the Library.
He retrieved the black compass and sent his spirit power into it—
The needle trembled.
Then spun violently.
The black compass was colder than metal should be. Raven rolled it in his palm, its surface smooth yet traced with faint lines that flickered under the inn's dim lantern glow. He drew in a breath, pushed his spirit power into it, and let his consciousness sink deep.
Nothing answered him.
Just a dead, ordinary object.
[If you could find the imprint array that easily, the Thorneville Wizards would've torn this compass apart long ago. Even a Legendary Wizard wouldn't locate it so simply, lad.]
Raven's eyebrows knit. Then how am I supposed to?
[Think. How did Jovie discover its real value?]
His eyes narrowed. She said she sensed a strange energy in it… something hidden.
[Yes. She likely used one of the powers tied to that artifact. Death, most likely.]
Raven exhaled slowly. And we captured the Fragment of Seer... an artifact that manipulates time. What if I use Mind Eye?
He didn't wait. The bloodline spell flared behind his pupils, and the world sharpened into brutal clarity. The compass bloomed with layered details—thin white lines wrapped around its casing, interlinked like a spiderweb stitched through brass.
Then he found it. A minuscule circle engraved so finely that no normal sight could catch it.
An array circle…?
He nudged a wisp of spirit power into it.
Nothing.
No reaction. No resonance.
Artifacts respond to a spirit imprint. So why is this one dead?
[Because you're assuming this artifact follows normal rules. The Thorneville Family definitely tried to appraise it. They failed. You sensed twelve elemental energies hidden in this compass—can you detect even one besides Time?]
Raven cycled through his elements one by one. Fire, Ice, Wind… nothing responded.
Only Time hummed faintly.
So I really am missing something…
[The Mind Eye spell reveals what elemental or spiritual probing cannot. And do you know why, lad?]
Raven's gaze sharpened.
Spirit power fused with Time…
[Correct. A fusion spell. Not something ordinary Walkers can even attempt.]
He cast Mind Eye a second time—deeper, more focused. The array circle shifted. Lines rearranged themselves like a blooming flower, revealing a second, hidden layer: the Imprint Circle, impossibly intricate and untouched.
Ownerless…
He gathered his spirit power and threaded in the whisper of Time-elemental energy. The moment it touched the center of the array, something cracked open.
A connection formed.
A space unfolded.
Then a pull yanked him inward.
Darkness surged past him, the weightless sensation identical to entering an Illusionary World. His feet landed on cold stone, and a faint green glow dripped down from a chandelier overhead, staining the vast hall in an eerie haze.
His hands shimmered—more translucent than flesh. His reflection in the polished floor wasn't Raven at all.
Thomas's face stared back.
Of course. My manifested form always matches my chosen disguise… even in dreams.
He brushed the thought away and slowly turned.
Rows of seats stretched along both sides of the hall—twelve in total—each carved like miniature thrones. And at the end, rising above all, sat a massive iron throne resting on an elevated dais.
Raven stepped forward, boots quiet on the cold floor.
What is this place…?
The chairs drew him in first. Each top rail carried a carved emblem, their faint glimmers barely holding against the sickly light.
An owl perched above the first chair—its carved eyes disturbingly sharp, as though it watched him.
It felt like Kira staring straight into his soul.
"A meeting place for the fragments…?" he whispered.
The second chair bore a rising phoenix wreathed in flame.
The third, a frozen wolf snarling mid-breath.
The fourth, an eagle wrapped in swirling wind.
The fifth, a skeletal hand gripping a withered rose.
The sixth, a tiny mouse.
The seventh, a centaur drawing a bow.
The eighth, a coiled lightning serpent.
The ninth, a glowing butterfly.
The tenth, a roaring lion crowned with fire.
The eleventh, a black cat arching its back.
The twelfth, a crow with wings blurred like a shifting shadow.
Power radiated from each seat—different, ancient, unmistakable.
Every chair represents a fragment…
But two chairs glowed with golden brilliance: the sixth with the mouse, and the eighth with the lightning serpent.
Why only these two…?
Questions mounted, but the iron throne drew him forward like gravity. He ascended the steps, stopping before its cold metal frame. Unlike the others, it bore no carved emblem.
What element do you hold?
He placed his hand on its armrest and sat.
The hall trembled.
Light burst from the iron throne—white, blinding—and a familiar pressure surged from the center of his consciousness.
Wait… that's—Ruler's Domination?! Why is it activating on its own?
The power expanded, threads of authority latching onto every part of the hall. His awareness ballooned outward until he could feel the walls, the floor, the air itself.
The throne answered him. Images, memories, and fragments of information flooded his mind.
"Ruler's Throne… sealed… seven seals… control limited until conditions are met…"
He blinked. The first seal was already undone, granting him 10% authority.
Ruler? Is it calling me that? And ten percent… means this space obeys me?
He stretched his consciousness experimentally.
The entire hall bent slightly, like fabric under his fingertips.
I can… shape it? Change it? Even create within it?
Curiosity flared. Raven lifted his hand and willed the air to obey.
The throne room stirred.
A ripple passed through the air, and a mirror coalesced before Raven—smooth, flawless, hovering like a quiet moon. His reflection blurred. Thomas dissolved. Raven emerged.
Oh? Interesting…
He raised a brow, testing the space's obedience. A hat formed with a thought. Then a glass marble. A wooden spoon. Small creations answered him instantly, weightless and effortless.
But when he imagined a table, a strain tugged behind his eyes—subtle but sharp. Another throne drained him even faster.
Smaller objects are easy. Larger ones eat at my mind… so creation has limits.
He turned his palm upward.
All twelve chairs around the hall shuddered, rose, and hovered as though gravity were a suggestion. They drifted higher, suspended in silent formation.
Telekinesis? But there's no mental strain at all…
The chairs returned gently to the floor at his gesture. The space hummed around him—obedient, waiting.
I can destroy everything here with... a thought.
The realization settled on him like a cloak—heavy, empowering, terrifying.
But the question he truly needed answered pressed harder.
Can I bring these objects back to the real world?
He dissolved his consciousness and returned to his body.
The compass lay in his hand. The room around him was unchanged.
No mirror. No hat. Nothing.