Inside the crystal-clear case lies a golden apple sitting on a red velvet cushion. A glint emitted from its smooth surface wrapped in golden skin.
Otto pointed at the apple and directed his bright gaze towards the shopkeeper. "How much is it?"
The man adjusted his black bow tie and raised his brow. "Hm? My, are you interested, little one? But you do not look like someone who can afford it."
"Then can I at least see the price?" Otto kept a determined face while maintaining his gaze towards the former.
The man strokes his moustache in amusement and replies. "Well, if you really want to know…"
Otto's smile receded while his eyes dimmed like an extinguished torch. He then reverted the conversation to buying the things Gerav told him to buy.
After a while, he exited the tent and squeezed through the crowd. He then dragged his feet back to the antique store using the lantern the old shopkeeper had told him of.
…
"Thirty gold coins? That's definitely just a fake one. The trick is to use Golden Beetle's dust to coat that apple, how classic."
Gerav took a sip from his teacup before counting the remaining change Otto had given him.
Otto stared at the teacup on the table. He was confident about what he had encountered back then. It was definitely a real golden apple, judging by the viscous air around the glass case, which was noticeable back then.
An aura that can suppress its surroundings…
Otto snapped back from his daze. He deliberated his own words before opening his mouth. "Old man, is there some kind of energy for these magical powers?"
He used to read a lot of fiction back when he was a kid. From his point of knowledge, every magic required one utmost foundation—energy. If his conclusion was correct, then this world must've had its own 'energy' as well.
Gerav curled his lips and looked at Otto. "It just so happens to be the subject of our next training."
…
The breeze swept the both of them alongside the waving grass in the vast field of green. The sun hung up high and bathed their skin in heat. Birdsong and the cries of cicadas filled the silence. The river gurgling in the background gave a harmonious sense of motif in the backyard.
"The air is rich in essence today." Gerav took a deep breath so as to admire Mother Nature. He exhaled and loosened himself before glancing at Otto.
Otto tried to mimic the act, but only the hollow air entered his grasp. He stiffened his muscles for another attempt but failed miserably.
"No, not like that." The priest sat on the nearest stump with a slight groan. "You have to 'connect' with the surrounding 'essence'."
Otto furrowed his eyebrows as he submerged himself in thoughts. His mind was overheating as he rubbed his chin.
Gerav sighed out before calling out to his disciple. "Take a moment of peace. Close your eyes and picture yourself floating in a calm ocean. Can you feel the water?"
Otto nodded and shut his eyes before gathering himself. He imagined himself in a body full of water. Sunlight pierced through the water surface and touched his skin. He muffled every noise around him, and only his thumping pulse remained.
He decided to reach out to the 'water' which Gerav had mentioned beforehand. And to his surprise, 'something' touched his palm. To be precise, he can feel the 'water' on every part of his body.
An incorporeal sensation—neither warm nor cold—had revealed itself before Otto. He was taken aback by such a revelation, which unknowingly jolted him before he fell on his back. The sensation was nowhere to be felt.
A shadow blocked out the sun from Otto; it was Gerav. "That sensation was essence. The energy source that every warlock will use. Some of the current inventions purely depended on them."
He extended his arm towards Otto and supported him to his feet. Otto dusted himself before asking. "Is there some kind of catch on such power?"
Gerav nodded. "Essence drain. Essence overflow. In fact, one slight disturbance in your emotions can disrupt the entire essence flow."
Even a slight emotional disturbance… I see. It is a matter of a fight between one's mental fortitude. Otto took note of this before putting it in the corner of his memory.
Before the both of them went through their next training, something sparked within Otto's mind.
Why do I feel like I'm in some kind of cheap knockoff of cultivation?
He chuckled before shrugging it off.
…
Far to the north, where the mountains met the plains, another event was unfolding.
In the northern part of Riela—the provincial capital of Venim—an expansive sea of grass extended towards the northern mountain. The orange hue of the sun radiated its last light of day before twilight arrived.
On the left side of the mountain landscape was situated a lush forest—a formation of soldiers in black plated armour marched through a carved dirt path from a mile away.
In the distance, a stocky woodcutter dropped his axe after seeing such an army. On the back of the formation stood a middle-aged man with his black hair barely reaching his shoulders. The army came to a halt in front of the house without a word. They all moved aside to let the man on the back come up forward.
On his armour's chest was depicted a bird symbol in red—larger than the ones on other soldiers—which marks him as the leader. His black cape fluttered as he strode over to the woodcutter.
The man trembled as his hands were sweating profusely while his heart was thumping on the ribcage like a caged beast.
The long-haired man leaned forward and questioned the man with his scarred face. "Tell me, where can I find Venim?"
The woodcutter saw the darkened expression on the man before pointing over to the left; more sweat came dripping down his palm.
The man gave off an overwhelming pressure—which made the soldiers behind him also flinch just from his glance.
He turned back to the woodcutter and narrowed his eyes.
"Do you know a man by the name of Gerav Swoltski?"