Of course, Allen couldn't tell the professors about cooking—although they probably already knew, it was still better not to point it out.
So, Allen was quickly shooed away—after all, his foundation simply couldn't compare to the two professors. Each field has its master, and how could a student juggling every subject possibly have such profound expertise?
Early discussions were manageable for Allen—he could contribute ideas based on his knowledge—but the later content was completely arcane. After giving a few instructions, the professors simply dismissed him. Even though nine times out of ten he'd eventually get a copy of the conclusions, for now, he was unwelcome.
However, Allen wasn't too disheartened. Once he left the professors' lab, he ran straight back to his tent. The discussions weren't ready to yield results yet, but he had a full trove of usable materials at hand.
But today clearly wasn't a day for studying. Not long after his return, a strange witch, accompanied by a local wizard, appeared at his tent. After a series of knocks, Allen hastily put away his materials, taking several deep breaths to calm down. Is reading a book supposed to be this stressful?
Before he could even ask, a badge was shown—a gesture that immediately brightened his expression.
For someone who had just gifted him a thousand Galleons, disturbing him while reading was forgivable—especially when the visitor intended to continue presenting such a generous gift.
What puzzled him, though, was her urgency. Was it really necessary to come just a day after dinner?
Was she expecting Allen to just take the money and leave? Especially considering she was still holding that sum as a condition.
Yet the witch didn't speak directly to Allen. Instead, she gestured politely but firmly for the accompanying wizard to leave. Surprisingly, he complied without a hint of anger.
Undoubtedly—this was a wizard infiltrated under the fox's command.
Once the tent was cleared, the mysterious witch didn't speak immediately. Instead, she cautiously cast several spells around the tent. Then, she pulled out a small glass vial, elegantly drank a sip, and began to transform rapidly. Her previously modest figure became alluring, the fabric of her clothing almost straining to contain her below the neck—yes, it was the fox.
Luckily, Allen had seen more shocking things before. Even faced with this scene, he remained unflustered, casually sitting in a chair and watching her adjust her disheveled clothes after the transformation.
Her personal appearance and the need to transform made it clear she had urgent business. Allen's calmness only gave the impression that he was completely in control—a distinct advantage in negotiation.
They were allies, of course, but that didn't stop Allen from planning a sharp strike. We're not close; why waste money on sentiment?
Just as Allen was considering how much to ask this time, the fox smiled slightly and delivered some news—action was moved up.
"What? Are you joking? I just got the notice yesterday, and now it's happening this afternoon?" Allen's surprise was genuine.
Was this rush really necessary? For major operations, wizards are usually prepared in advance. Gathering intelligence, preparing potions, and stocking supplies all required significant time.
Rushing recklessly was a death wish. Even someone like Quirrell possessed by Voldemort would first scout out the traps laid by Dumbledore and other wizards before moving. Harry and the others were only able to survive such risks thanks to Hermione, their walking encyclopedia, or they'd have perished at the Devil's Snare in the second challenge.
Seeing Allen's astonishment, the fox had anticipated it. She promptly placed a full pouch of Galleons on the table—exactly one thousand, the prearranged payment.
"I know this is sudden, but there's no alternative. To compensate for my breach, I've brought the promised reward early. I've also prepared all your adventuring equipment. Now, we must head to the destination immediately—every second counts!"
The advance payment successfully dispelled Allen's anger, but curiosity still nagged him—what could be serious enough to justify moving the operation forward so drastically?
Although he didn't know her exact demands, it was clear she cared more about this mission than anyone else. Acting early would reduce the success rate, yet she risked it anyway—something serious must have happened.
"Tell me—what's going on? Hiding this from me doesn't help. We're on the same team."
The fox's expression flickered between emotions but eventually revealed the truth. As Allen said, they were allies; there was no reason to hide such a minor matter.
"One of my servants has disappeared—they know about this matter."
Perhaps fearing Allen's misunderstanding, she quickly added: "Rest assured, they won't be able to divulge much information—truth serums won't work. The information is too crucial; every servant aware has taken a magical oath, and the moment they speak the truth, their soul will vanish."
"Even so, they will likely discover our target soon. They don't have a precise map, but I estimate they'll figure out the general location within two days. Japan's seers are not fewer than the British wizarding world."
That was all the information available—though it was inferred.
Naturally, the danger level had drastically increased.
The owner of this grave was far too special.
Over ninety percent of wizards would likely covet what was inside—there was no doubt about it.
Even if the other party weren't powerful, they wouldn't give up. If Allen were powerless, they would mercilessly strike first. At least by intervening, one could exploit the chaos rather than helplessly watch others take it.
And there was no need to worry about reinforcements being insufficient or turning on each other—others were still in play.
One wizard couldn't win alone—could a group lose?
As the saying goes: When facing those who embrace evil, what's the use of chivalry?