Chapter 14: The Young Fox of Alchemy

The alchemist’s weapon from the Descent of the Mad God wasn’t particularly large, yet could be used for an impressively long time. Weneagle held the small bottle of instant adhesive and gave a gentle wave forward.

A direct hit! One cannibal was instantly frozen in place, unable to move. The other had just lunged at Weneagle, paused in confusion, then turned and fled.

Honey’s divine spell: Mass Fear!

Weneagle quickly tucked the glue back into his belt, then pulled out a vial of toxic gas and chased after the fleeing cannibal, sprinkling it over him.

Poisoned!

Though the toxins in Mad God weren’t especially potent, their effects lasted a long time and their damage was hardly negligible. For an alchemist, whose offensive power was otherwise modest, this was the most suitable way to attack.

And with the addition of Honey’s Mass Fear and Berserk spells for crowd control…

Weneagle, carried away by the thrill of battle, avoided heading straight for the docks. Instead, he moved along the roadside, eliminating every cannibal he encountered. The greatest threat to him among them were the witch doctors, but their midge-bite spells were too weak; even after taking a few hits, Weneagle suffered little loss.

He could feel his “level” slowly rising. Clearly, the strength of the cannibal warriors and witch doctors, relative to his own at this moment, meant the “experience” gained was rather considerable—and besides, there was the small bonus to experience from the Fear spell, a minor but convenient bug.

Joyfully, Weneagle cleared all the cannibals near the docks. When he boarded a short-distance passenger boat, he found the captain staring at him with a peculiarly odd expression.

“What’s wrong, old sir?” Honey squeezed curiously between the captain and Weneagle, asking.

“Oh, it’s… it’s nothing. Thank you both for your heroic deeds. From now on, you can travel between the islands free of charge,” the captain declared, thumping his chest in assurance. “Are you bound for the eastern islands, or…?”

“To the Sun Temple,” Weneagle replied. “The fare doesn’t matter, we’re not exactly short of money.”

He took two silver coins from his pouch and placed them in the wooden box at the cabin entrance. “Old sir, I’d like to ask you something. What’s the situation with the Sun Temple and the Divine Fist Temple on the island?”

“The Divine Fist Temple… There’s been strange howling coming from there lately, no one knows what’s going on, but the priests always explain it away as hallucinations,” the captain whispered conspiratorially. “Also, there seem to be many people inside the Divine Fist Temple recently.”

“Hm…” Weneagle nodded thoughtfully.

“As for the Sun Temple, nothing much, though I’ve heard the Sun Priests are hiring wandering mercenaries everywhere, and recruiting followers from nearby. Maybe… maybe…” The captain hesitated for a long time before continuing, “Maybe they’re planning something against the Moon Temple.”

“Oh, the rivalry between the Sun Temple and the Moon Temple… I think that’s part of the seventh installment’s plot…” Weneagle murmured to himself, barely audible. “That being the case, I might as well join in—the Moon High Priest’s cloak is a fine item.”

“What did you say, Fox Brother?” Honey tilted her head.

“Nothing. Honey, do you prefer sun or moon patterns?” Weneagle countered.

“Uh, probably the moon. The sun’s too harsh, Honey’s afraid of getting tanned,” Honey replied.

“Perfect. Just wait—I’ll get the moon cloak for you when I have the chance,” Weneagle said with a soft laugh.

…

On the island, at the Sun Temple.

The Sun Priest took the letter Weneagle handed him, carefully inspected the wax seal, glanced at the badge on Honey’s chest, then pondered for a moment before nodding and opening the letter.

He read it word by word, unusually focused, lifting his head only after a long silence and snapping his fingers. Two priests beside him stepped forward and handed Weneagle two small gold coins.

A bit generous… Weneagle frowned slightly but accepted the payment without comment.

“I have another matter,” said the Sun Priest. “Do you have time?”

“We do,” Weneagle nodded.

“Excellent. I can no longer tolerate those bastards at the Moon Temple. The moon always shines only after the sun, its dim light never compares to the brilliance of sunlight, and those cowardly wretches dare to proclaim the mystical moonlight as the source of magic, as the goddess’s blessing! I must correct their ignorant fanaticism and make them understand that only the sun is the eternal object of worship!” The Sun Priest gestured wildly, his voice rising with fervor.

“Honored Sun Priest, I am happy to serve you,” Weneagle bowed.

“Go to the Moon Temple, join everyone else, and bring me the cloak of the Moon High Priest!” the Sun Priest commanded with a wave. “I’ll reward you handsomely and grant you the power of the sun!”

“As you wish. I am ready to serve the radiant sunlight,” Weneagle replied.

The Sun Priest was satisfied—he suddenly found the young man before him agreeable, though perhaps a bit lacking in strength. He beckoned, and a young attendant priest brought forth a tray. After sifting through its contents, the Sun Priest chose the most inconspicuous item and handed it to Weneagle.

Weneagle accepted it in silence. Being weak and looked down upon was only natural; he had no complaints.

It was a magical longsword, and its design suited the role template of Kress. The reason it was undervalued was because the sword’s enchantment only granted a slight increase in endurance.

A trivial property—for most swordsmen.

Yet Weneagle was rather pleased with this modest attribute. For his ordinary, youthful constitution, any extra stamina improved his survivability, especially when not using role construction. Even after transformation, while Kress’s skills were powerful, his stamina wasn’t high, limiting his abilities.

Weneagle nodded in gratitude, then took Honey’s hand and left the Sun Temple.

“Honey, why have you been so quiet?” Weneagle whispered.

“Honey sensed a strong hostility deep within the Sun Temple,” Honey replied softly, her pale face reflecting her unease.

She was adept at mental divine arts, her sensitivity to hostility almost instinctive. That intense, pervasive hatred toward all living beings was certainly not something normal creatures possessed.

What could it be? Deep inside the Sun Temple, what were these zealous worshipers planning…

Weneagle smiled. Whether Sun Temple or Moon Temple, both were filled with religious fanatics. The war between them was laughable—merely a dispute over worshipping the sun or the moon, escalating to arguments, then to conflict, and finally to war.

The battles of fanatics were the dullest of all. Weneagle sighed, but for now, he’d deal with the Moon Temple first.

He glanced around, then slipped into the shadows outside the Sun Temple to change.

Shedding his robe and belt, Weneagle donned a tight-fitting dark green suit, tied a cloth band studded with metal around his forehead, and drew a slender dagger from his pouch, gripping it in reverse.

Role selected, analysis complete… construction begins. Level 5 Ninja, construction complete!

Ninjas in Knight’s Order II possessed the ability to walk on water. They specialized in short blades and could use elementary elemental attack magic—though, given their magical prowess, it was mostly supplementary.

Ninjas also had an essential skill: almost unlimited use of throwing stars. Though their attack power was low, their range and accuracy were respectable, and their speed growth was the highest, making the ninja class an indispensable transitional stage for developing mobility in all professions.

The dark green outfit, forehead protector, and long dagger were the “signature items” of this profession. Weneagle drew a deep breath and stepped onto the water.

In the world of Magic Gate, water walking required considerable mana to sustain, as a water-element spell. Of course, there were alternatives—such as layered alchemy potions and water-breathing elixirs.

Weneagle happened to have one in his pouch, picked up while scavenging from a particularly beautiful treasure chest. Such things were impossible to find when needed, impossible to sell when unwanted, so now that it had a use, he decided to consume it without hesitation.

Honey took the potion and drank it in one gulp. She giggled, skipped forward, and jumped into the water.

Weneagle ran after her, darting across the water with the lightness of a dragonfly.

A few hundred meters of water were crossed in a flash; for a ninja, it was only a matter of seconds. Honey was still walking underwater, but Weneagle didn’t wait—he silently vaulted onto the wall, leaping several times to reach the top of the Moon Temple.

Ninjas under the Knight’s Order rules had no special stealth abilities, but their light-footedness on water and remarkable mobility, with three-stage jumps that could clear four-meter-high walls, allowed Weneagle to easily infiltrate the Moon Temple’s enclosure.

He stood atop the building, shrouded in shadow, surveying the scene below.

Ordinary followers, priests, and high priests of the Moon Cult all possessed some magic. They worshipped moonlight, and from this fanatical devotion to the moon, gained the ability to wield mysterious powers.

The magic of darkness: enigmatic, elusive, and potent, whether for attack or support.

Fortunately, the cultists of the Moon only mastered a few basic spells, none of them powerful. They were not prodigies; powers acquired so easily would never be too strong.

Soon, Honey surfaced from the water, her hair and face dripping, strands of waterweed clinging to her head. Yet thanks to the potion’s magic, the water vanished rapidly as she left the surface.

The waterweed, however… really did add a touch of charm.