Chapter 69

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Chapter 69: Among Them

After knocking on the door, Abigail realized she might have arrived too early.

It was early morning, with few people in the inn and on the streets, similar to when the guest had arrived the day before – Abigail wouldn’t usually be up this early if she didn’t have something to do. She had pent-up energy on her way over and, after knocking on the door, thoughts of the person she had glimpsed yesterday morning made her slightly nervous.

"Early bird catches the worm," she muttered, kicking the floor and pumping herself up. Before she could knock again, the door swung open.

A black-haired woman stood in the doorway, with neatly pinned back hair and a tidy coat. There was no sign of morning weariness on her face; she seemed lively, as if she had been waiting eagerly.

"Good morning, Miss Natasha!" Abigail greeted, "I am here to take you to the capital city. Have you had breakfast?"

"Your father mentioned it to me yesterday," the guest nodded, "Let’s go."

This was Abigail’s task for today, all because of her over-enthusiastic father. He always acted impulsively, "She’s new in town, and you have nothing to do at home anyway. Why not take her out to have some fun!" Wood said, assigning the guiding job to his daughter without any discussion.

Abigail was not the only one sent on this task, her uncle, Wood’s brother, was also assigned. Even a fool could see what the old man was up to. Thinking about it, the girl wanted to roll her eyes. Uncle Edwin had important matters to attend to and didn’t have time to accompany this strange guest for a stroll! Therefore, Abigail bravely volunteered and took on the task alone. By bringing the guest out early in the morning, even if her dad tried to force her uncle to come out later, he couldn’t use the guest as an excuse.

They took a carriage not far away and soon arrived beside the capital city. Abigail led the guest off the carriage and onto the streets of the capital before the crowds started to grow. "Stay close to me, don’t wander off," she instructed. The guest nodded, looking around at the streets.

Being a tour guide was a very boring job.

"The carriages that enter are subject to restrictions. The carriages that carry visitors must stop outside, while the transport carriages take that route. However, you still have to walk on the sidewalks because the carriages allowed on the capital city streets can sometimes move fast, and they all have permits. It could cause trouble if not adhered to."

"Over there is Aryan’s central square, there’s a big clock that has birds and figures that come out at noon to chime loudly."

"There are many restaurants here, you can eat when you get hungry. The ones on the second main street are a bit pricey, but they are said to be tasty."

"Goods are sold on this street."

Abigail’s introductions were getting shorter and shorter, she didn’t have the talent of a tour guide, everything she said felt dry and boring – she truly believed there was nothing interesting here. Aryan’s capital city was called the "City of the Capital" (even the name is so boring), many people boasted about how great it was here, but Abigail just didn’t see it that way. She was born in the city, explored it since she was a child, and had already seen all the slightly interesting places and was tired of playing there. Maybe when she was a child she found it fun, but in a child’s eyes even a puddle is interesting, that feeling has long been forgotten. In Abigail’s mind now, the city was just a busy and boring metropolis.

"Why don’t you like it here?"

The meaningless conversation was interrupted as Abigail turned around and met the black eyes of the female guest. Those eyes, which had not stopped moving a moment ago, were now fixed on the girl, looking just as eager as when observing the surroundings.

If someone asked Abigail whether she liked the city, she would definitely say she did, just to avoid arguments. But Natasha bluntly asked her why she didn’t like it, already assuming that "Abigail doesn’t like the city" was a given.

"It’s not that great," Abigail pouted, "I just don’t like it that much… staying in one place for a long time always makes it feel boring, and I have never been anywhere else in my life."

She hadn’t been anywhere else, but she heard endless accusations of being ungrateful for not appreciating what she had. It was annoying to listen to, so Abigail let it go in one ear and out the other. People who came to the capital with a sense of pilgrimage would surely start lecturing her on what she had just said, from the love for their hometown ("How can you be tired of the place that raised you and took care of you?") to the importance and historical significance of the capital, about Aryan, about humanity, blah blah blah, it was all the same old stories.

"That’s true," unexpectedly, the guest nodded, "Sometimes we have to leave our birthplace to truly appreciate what hometown looks like. For example, where I come from, we don’t have these carriages that don’t need horses to pull them."

She pointed towards the cars passing by not far away, the carriages with rounded hats ringing the horn before making a turn, to avoid any car rushing towards this direction. Abigail vaguely remembered how many travelers were amazed by the existence of cars, some even made jokes about it being a form of magic, they really had no idea. While Natasha, who had been calm since arriving in the city, Abigail had forgotten that she also came from a distant countryside.

"Oh, that’s a car!" Abigail explained happily, "It has fuel inside and can be driven directly. But it’s very expensive to buy and maintain, regular people can’t afford it."

The shopkeeper’s family was indeed ordinary people. Abigail didn’t know much about things that were either bought by wealthy people or used by the government. It was the customers who reminded her of something, so she asked, "Where are you from?"

"From the south," the woman customer said, "Tasmania."

The word sounded familiar to Abigail, and after a moment, she remembered where she heard it before. "Tasmania!" She turned around suddenly, eyes wide open, "Is it the place that recently had many Hybrids? Are there really many Hybrids there? Have you met any? What do they look like? Did you leave because of them?"

The woman customer chuckled at Abigail’s rapid questions, making Abigail realize she had asked too many at once. She stuck out her tongue, scanned the lively market around, luckily no one noticed her. The shopkeeper’s daughter excitedly lowered her voice and asked, "Is it true that there are many Hybrids over there?"

"Kind of." Natasha imitated Abigail’s tone briefly and then fell silent.

How could this be? Abigail, like a cat smelling fish, started circling around the woman. After some persuasion, the woman spoke again, "Why are you so curious about this?"

"Everyone wants to know about Hybrids," Abigail replied.

"Not as much as you," Natasha said mysteriously.

Her expression seemed to demand a straightforward answer, fair and reasonable. "I was just curious," Abigail shrugged, trying to act indifferent.

Natasha nodded, waiting for more.

"Don’t talk nonsense to others about your nonsense!" Abigail’s father had warned her, using similar words to caution her and Uncle Edwin. He would go on and on, from warning her about evil spirits haunting her for lying ("Dad! I’m not three years old anymore!") to secret police arresting her for speaking wrongly. Abigail never took these warnings seriously; she knew they were just scare tactics. She played along but found Uncle Edwin’s warnings more effective.

"You can’t go around spoiling things, Abby," Uncle Edwin said seriously. "You’ll spoil the fun of those who read my book in the future."

This was a serious issue.

Abigail carefully considered what she could say and replied, "I heard some things about Hybrids, they were said to be…quite strange in the past."

"What do you mean by strange?" Natasha asked.

"Just, all sorts of strange things," Abigail gestured vaguely, trying to move on. "You know, back when humans weren’t the rulers of the world, there were all sorts of interesting…I mean, strange things on the earth."

The woman guest didn’t seem too bothered, she nodded and asked, "Did you hear that from your father?"

If Natasha asked Wood, this lie would be exposed right away, and Abigail would definitely hear another lecture. So she quickly shook her head and said, "I read about it in a book."

"There are books like that?" Natasha continued to ask.

"Yes, there are…"

"Can you lend it to me to read? I’m also very interested in this."

Abigail felt a bit annoyed, wondering how she ended up being questioned instead. Wasn’t she the one asking the questions in the beginning? She sneakily glanced at the woman next to her, seeing Natasha inspecting the goods on the stall, not taking the questions too seriously. Abigail licked her lips and said, "Sorry, that book is not mine."

Afraid that the other person would keep pressing her, she added, "It belongs to the Grand Library, I can’t even remember the title."

Aryan’s capital city had a renowned Grand Library, known far and wide for its vast size, impressive collection of books, and praised by many out-of-town visitors. Abigail tried to divert the customer’s attention to this, racking her brains and explaining the library’s conditions enthusiastically, such as the dome high above, the best wooden bookshelves, the sun-protective yet light-permeable marble walls, and the exquisite decorations on each book… Finally, she specifically mentioned, "But the Grand Library has strict regulations; you need to go through a long process and obtain various permits before entering!"

"Really?" Natasha put down the trinket in her hand and turned to look at her, "It must have been quite difficult for you to get the permit, right?"

Abigail sighed inwardly, berating herself for being too talkative. Why bring this up? She should have just played it cool. Did she really think Natasha would scour every book and expose her lie about fabricating a book? By emphasizing it like this, Abigail was at risk of revealing the truth that she didn’t have a library permit either. It takes ten lies to cover up one lie.

"Actually, I saw it from a customer." Abigail said and pointed to a lively little store, awkwardly changing the subject, "Look! That one looks really nice!"

She ran over first.

This is a bustling street in the capital city, with a variety of goods in the shops along the street. It was not until she entered the store that Abigail realized what this store was selling. It was an antique shop, selling some half-real and half-fake oddities. For a while, she loved coming here until her dad laughed and told her how the "antiques" in the store were made with just a few dollars’ worth of materials.

"I also find the past very interesting." Natasha followed over and stopped next to Abigail, saying, "Various races, various professions, extraordinary creatures and extraordinary people."

Abigail suddenly turned her head, staring at the woman’s face intently, which looked as relaxed as before. She was playing with something claimed to be a component of a "flamethrower used by a legendary hero", completely ignoring what was just said.

She might be talking about ordinary professions, maybe it was just a misunderstanding. But after hesitating for a while, Abigail couldn’t hold back her words. She couldn’t help but ask, "Do you know about Professionals?"

"Yes," Natasha replied, "It’s not a secret, right?"

It’s not a secret, but it’s a very old concept. Nowadays, books and brochures only refer to past extraordinary individuals as "heroes" or "villains", the term "Professionals" specifically referring to a group has long disappeared from the public eye. If not for an interest in ancient documents and history, they would not have brought it up. Apart from her uncle, Abigail had never met anyone else who could talk about this! She suppressed her excitement and asked, "So, what profession do you like?"

"Wizard," Natasha said softly.

"I also love wizards the most!" Abigail replied with her mouth, as she couldn’t say it out loud or else everyone would hear, "Wizards know a lot of things, they are very smart, they know the secrets of the world, and can do amazing things with their magical powers…"

The lady chuckled, Abigail realized she had exaggerated too much, it wasn’t quite right to boast so much in front of someone who appreciated wizards and knew about them. "Almost anything," she added, "They are so cool! Some can control elements, some can turn people into animals, and… and they have all sorts of abilities."

She abruptly stopped, so she wouldn’t spoil the stories her uncle was writing. Abigail felt uncomfortable, trying to figure out how to recommend Uncle Edwin’s masterpiece to Natasha, but her uncle had said she shouldn’t tell anyone until he had finished writing it.

"But wizards have disappeared," Natasha said.

"That’s a misunderstanding," Abigail said indignantly, "Wizards are not minions of the abyss, just because the abyss used magic first, doesn’t mean we can’t use it too! Why should we protect the copyright of our enemies! I want to become a wizard in the future…"

She didn’t finish her sentence, something was thrown into her arms, Abigail fumbled in the air and almost dropped it. She picked up the antique lock, almost dropping it on the ground.

At least that’s what the label called it, the metal contraption with many parts was smooth as if polished by many hands. A heap of irregular metal blocks and thin sheets were interlocked, some could rotate, some couldn’t.

"Give it a try," the lady said randomly, "Can you unlock this?"

Abigail wasn’t in the mood to play with the lock now, but she reluctantly started to dismantle this jumble of a contraption, under the insistent gaze of the lady.

The antique lock looked very complicated, and it was even more complicated to fiddle with. The parts that could move had different angles they could turn, the sliders were just the right size to fit through some holes but not others, and to make things worse, it seemed like there were springs inside. If you didn’t move quickly and smoothly enough, the parts you had just managed to solve would go back to their original positions. Why did the person who made this lock make it so difficult? She complained in her mind, struggled with it for a while, only to have her hard work reset again.

"I can’t open this at all!" she muttered.

Natasha shook her head sadly and looked at her. Abigail became upset, feeling like this person wasn’t taking her seriously at all. Was she just teasing her, like everyone else?

"Are you mocking me?" Abigail stepped back, hugging her arms. "Do you think I’m being unrealistic, like a fool? Let me tell you…"

"No," Natasha calmly shook her head, "What is your plan?"

"What?" Abigail asked confusedly, like a punch missing its mark.

"Your plan for becoming a wizard," the woman said, "No dream is worth mocking, but success is up to you. You need to have a plan."

"Oh," Abigail said.

She felt like a deflating balloon, her anger visibly shrinking. Abigail felt a mix of embarrassment for blaming the other person wrongly and a strange sense of happiness. Her mom had left before she could even understand, her dad, though loving, always scoffed at her passion, saying she was unrealistic. Her uncle was cool, but even he sometimes wasn’t cool enough. "Maybe you should think about some more… easily achievable goals, like opening a flower shop?" he would say to Abigail, "You know, novels are just novels."

This was the first time someone took her dreams seriously.

Abigail felt a warm rush in her heart, she touched her nose discreetly, unsure of what to say.

"There’s nothing wrong with dreaming big, especially at your age," the other person said, easing the tension, "If you hold onto them tightly, some of your dreams may come true."

"Do you know other people your age?" Abigail asked.

Natasha was a person whose age was hard to determine. Her skin was smooth and flawless, with no signs of gray hair. Her deep black eyes, calm and unwavering, seemed to have witnessed many things without being moved. Abigail couldn’t tell how old she looked – she could be in her twenties, thirties, forties, two hundred, three hundred, or four hundred years old, who knows? The girl thought to herself that if elves or wizards truly existed in the world, they would probably look like her.

The lady of unknown age smiled and said, "I was once your age too."

——————————

"It’s not her," Victor said, "Even the most fallen wizard wouldn’t accept such foolishness."

The lock clicked back into place again, the girl in front looking more and more anxious, with less chance of success.

The antique lock – a copy of a toy for beginners – is like a mix of a nine-link ring puzzle and a Rubik’s Cube. It tests players’ calmness and intelligence, as well as their finger flexibility, which may be more important. A skilled wizard needs to stay calm, have a smart brain, while even the clumsiest wizard needs agile hands for beginner spell gestures.

The girl could not become a beginner wizard, the magic circle set up outside the inn had nothing to do with her.

Tasha traveled above the clouds, with Dragon Power entwined around the iron rails in Ribe Lake. The rails extended through the wilderness, trains like long worms passing by her in the opposite direction. Against the flow, she found her way to Aryan’s capital city.

She was close to the point of sensing, but Tasha couldn’t fly to the source. The starting point of the rails was near the military base of Aryan’s capital city, heavily guarded. If the various energy fluctuations she sensed (dragons, warding runes, or Dungeon Core, or magic) had colors, it would probably turn into a rainbow island that could trigger seizures in epileptic patients.

But Tasha was not helpless.

Dragon Power intertwined with the rails, but here near the source, it wasn’t tightly wrapped around the rails. The thing was enormous, extending beyond the military base on the surface.

It was underground.

The vast space that may contain imprisoned dragons partly extended below Aryan’s capital city.

Tasha descended from the clouds, folded her wings, and walked towards the heart of this human empire on two feet. Unexpectedly, Victor called out to her as she passed by an inn, telling her there were traces of a guarding circle here.

"It’s still running!" Victor said, pointing out subtle traces around the inn that were hard to notice. "This thing is well hidden, but it needs maintenance. If no one takes care of it for ten years, it will fall into disrepair."

This means that at least within the past ten years, spellcasters have been here.

Tasha moved in to find the possible wizard who had dared to place a magic circle near the capital city of Aryan. Victor’s rare lack of criticism or sarcasm, as he admired the magic circle, suggested that the wizard was either desperate or exceptionally skilled. Tasha didn’t sense anything unusual here, but if it weren’t for Victor’s natural sensitivity to magic as an Abyss native, she would have missed it.

Magic was indeed originally a product of the Abyss. The creatures of the Abyss could naturally use magic, and later demons taught it to willing creatures from the Primary Material Plane who delved into the Abyss. However, the origins of wizards have always been a subject of debate. Some say the progenitor was an ambitious betrayer who delved into the Abyss, learned secret arts, and then betrayed the Abyss, stealing spells for personal use. Others claim that Pathfinders were inquisitive explorers who studied the creatures and Spawn of the Abyss, eventually creating powerful magic spells that were fundamentally different but outwardly similar… During the time of the Aryan Declaration, wizard had almost become a neutral term, distinct from Abyss Worshipper.

In any case, if wizards still exist in this world, there is great potential for cooperation between these oppressed Professionals and dungeons. If Tasha could find a spellcaster living near the capital city, her search would be twice as effective.

Unfortunately, things didn’t go as smoothly as planned.

On her second day in this renowned human capital, Tasha strolled through the city. She gathered some scattered clues, verified and proposed new theories, and was greatly amazed by the city.

The capital of the Aryan Empire is simply called the "capital," a name that carries unspeakable arrogance. Humans transformed the term "Aryan" from a geographic reference into the name of their empire, which resulted in everyone associating Aryan solely with the empire, even foreigners – now, not a single Orc is willing to shout "For Aryan," seeing it as submitting to humans, without considering that centuries ago, it was the rallying cry of all beings on Earth during the wars with the Heavenly Realm and the Abyss. Today, there is only one empire on Earth, and therefore only one "capital," needing no further designation.

The level of civilization in the capital city may be a hundred years more advanced than Ribe Lake.

The carriage traveled on the street, with "cars" alongside. These were not modern cars, but vehicles resembling armored cars with a horn, chimney, a driver controlling a dashboard, and many similarities to the cars in this world.

Tall buildings rose from the ground, with chains and cranks operating semi-human-powered elevators, and pedestrians dressed in attire similar to that of the 19th century calmly coming and going.

The boss’s prosthetic hand had a flat palm and intricate knuckles, the exposed steel limb delicate and slender like an insect’s limb.

The clock struck twelve, the huge clock face opened, gears turning as metal cuckoos chirped the time, and metal toy soldiers holding something resembling rifles marched out.

Wealthy individuals wore a peculiar type of watch, more like an improved version of a pocket watch: the chain connected to the wrist and a finger, with the wearer flicking their finger to pop open the watch cover.

…

This was a peculiar city, almost like stepping into a new world. The inefficient Aryan industry supported the heart of the military and empire, with massive and intricate machinery giving off a wonderful blend of ancient and technological vibes – these seemingly opposite elements harmoniously coexisting. Tasha standing there was like the beginning of a bizarre movie scene: a woman with dragon wings walking in a city of machinery, searching for traces of wizards and entrances to underground spaces.

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