Chapter 776
The Terrifying Acrobatics of the Calamity Stitcher
March 21st, early morning.
The Spirit Tower, on the outskirts of Leipzig.
Albert Bruzvik scratched his messy, fluffy hair, held his mug, and yawned as he walked out of the laboratory.
Because the laboratory was quite cool, he wore a thick wool robe even in summer. The reason for the dark color was simply because it was more resistant to dirt; even if stained with blood or food grease, it wouldn’t be too noticeable.
Ever since he completely fell out with the military, Albert no longer lingered in the Star Antinomy laboratory in Lionheart City. He packed his belongings and returned directly to the Spirit Tower.
Once he was no longer cooperating with the Royal Alchemists, who had to submit a report and get approval for every round of experiments and held two lengthy meetings every week, Albert immediately felt like he was alive again.
—As expected, it had to be the Spirit Tower! Home is where the heart is!
In the Spirit Tower, people usually wouldn’t even glance at each other on the street, nor would anyone bother them. Unlike in Lionheart City, where everyone would greet him and strike up conversations, and he didn’t know a single person. He felt tired just speaking, but if he didn’t speak, people would accuse him of being arrogant.
There was also no one to manage his schedule here; he could sleep and wake up whenever he pleased. He didn’t have to force himself to stay alert for morning meetings. He could simply grab his food and eat it next to a corpse in the laboratory, without having to live in a reality where he couldn’t get food if he missed the mealtime.
His experimental records could be written in characters only he could understand, as he didn’t need to submit experimental reports. He didn’t have to write in neat, proper handwriting or use those verbose, formal terminology—after all, he had reached the Fourth Tier at just twenty years old and had never learned those terms.
He wondered where those alchemists got their rules from… when for a very long time, the alchemists had a different set of terminology for each lineage.
…Of course, perhaps it was precisely because of this historical background that those Royal Alchemists placed such importance on “unified terminology and behavioral norms.”
Perhaps alchemists were very accustomed to this orderliness… but he was ultimately not a traditional alchemist, merely a “Calamity Stitcher” who had grasped a bit of alchemy. With his owl-like schedule, forcing himself to wake up at the same time as those alchemists made him feel like he was on the verge of death… and the information obtained during the Ascension Ritual had pushed him over the edge.
“It’s strange. I’m sleeping even less, but I don’t feel as tired…”
Albert sighed and walked to a faucet located along the corridor, turning it on to fill his mug with a glowing green potion. While waiting for it to fill, he took off his glasses and wiped them with his sleeve.
—That was “Compound Potion No. 1.”
Utilizing knowledge from alchemy, potion-making, and necromancy, the Spirit Tower had concocted three types of compound potions: green, red, and yellow.
The specific formulas were confidential. And students all knew that they were likely not good things, and it was best not to ask… as long as their effects were potent enough.
The effect of “No. 1” was to dispel fatigue and invigorate the spirit, making an overworked brain sober again. The drawback was that one’s tongue would glow for a while afterward.
Albert downed it in gulps, then turned on a second faucet, filling a mug with a potion as blood-red as wine. It mixed with the faint remaining fluorescent green liquid, making it appear slightly lighter.
This was “No. 2,” which protected internal organs, prevented sudden death, repaired joint damage, and replenished strength.
After drinking these two cups of “water,” Albert patted his belly uncomfortably.
—I was quite hungry earlier, but now I feel like I’ve already eaten my fill.
“Senior. Morning.”
Just then, a light, slightly hoarse voice sounded.
It was Aurora’s voice.
Albert immediately identified it and turned back, “You’re awake, Aurora?”
The girl behind him had soft, platinum-blonde hair. Her already small face was mostly obscured by her hair, making her head seem rather tiny.
Her face, exquisite like that of a doll, was expressionless, like a corpse—it was this lifeless beauty that made Albert feel a pang of attraction.
She was currently Star Antinomy’s youngest Fourth Tier necromancer—under the joint efforts of Albert and their mentor, she had once again broken the record set by Albert.
This beautiful girl, like a princess, wasn’t wearing a pretty long or short dress, but instead roamed the Spirit Tower campus in a purple nightgown.
“Didn’t sleep.”
Aurora replied curtly, standing beside Albert and filling a mug with “No. 3.”
Her speech was always peculiar, lacking context. Their mentor, Little Fernando Bruzvik, could always understand Aurora’s words, while Albert would always ask with doubt, “What?”, before getting a detailed explanation.
When Albert left, considering that Aurora needed someone to look after her, lest such an innocent girl be deceived. Therefore, after consulting Aurora’s personal opinion, he had Aurora’s records transferred back to the Spirit Tower.
Also brought along was the “corpse” of their mentor, Little Fernando Bruzvik, who had been petrified.
But it was strange.
After their mentor’s accident, although Aurora’s speech remained without context, Albert felt that he was slowly beginning to understand her words.
“…No. 3?”
Albert looked at Aurora with some confusion.
The effect of Potion No. 3 was to urgently supplement mana of the Twilight Path and the Earth attribute—the most orthodox way to replenish mana was through dreaming. To temporarily replenish mana, one needed fragments of power from the Material Realm of the corresponding attribute and path.
And extraordinary beings that possessed the Twilight Path and Earth attribute had one thing in common.
—They all had some connection to the undead.
Therefore, Potion No. 3 was known among students as “bone tea” or “bone broth.” Although no one knew how this potion, which resembled a fishy mud, was made, at least fresh and familiar undead ingredients were definitely involved. There was a saying that those discarded, incomplete undead were very likely used to make Potion No. 3.
Even Albert tried to avoid drinking it if possible.
However, Aurora drank the turbid, mud-like potion with an unchanged expression—her usually indifferent face seemed to turn even paler for a moment.
As she drank, Albert’s expression changed slightly.
Because he was taller, from this angle, he could clearly see through her sleeve that Aurora was not wearing underwear beneath her nightgown.
…What should I do, should I remind her?
But that would mean I saw it, and wouldn’t that be impolite…
Albert’s thoughts raced.
He finally made up his mind—their mentor, who could protect them, was no longer here. I have to take good care of Aurora.
“Um, Aurora…”
Albert coughed lightly, reminding her, “Your clothes.”
“?”
Aurora turned her head silently, her eyes full of confusion.
“I mean… underwear.”
Albert reminded her.
“Oh.”
Aurora suddenly understood, realizing what Albert meant.
And she replied curtly, “It’s fine.”
—It’s fine?!
Albert impatiently scratched his already messy hair.
He regretted not being her senior, so he couldn’t drag her to his bedroom and have a detailed “this is not fine” lesson…
But Albert was not good at speaking. Just thinking about such topics made him feel immense pressure—let alone private matters, he usually didn’t dare to talk to Aurora, fearing she might suddenly bring up a topic he couldn’t answer.
Seeing Albert like this, Aurora’s lips curved upward almost imperceptibly for a moment.
“I’m not stupid.”
She suddenly spoke, softly, “Thank you.”
“…You’re welcome?”
Albert was somewhat confused.
He could sense that Aurora meant, “You don’t need to worry, I have my own ideas, but thank you anyway.”
But looking at Aurora’s sleeve, which didn’t even reach her elbow, he thought for a moment and then took off his own robe, draping it over her.
Albert said solemnly, “It’s cold on the way back…”
But he actually had another thought—he hoped Aurora wouldn’t expose herself to others.
Even in the Spirit Tower, people generally wouldn’t pay attention to passersby. Let alone a thin nightgown, even if they walked naked, people would likely just glance with curiosity and move on… However, Albert still had such a thought arise.
Although just giving this robe to Aurora made him feel a bit ashamed—after all, he hadn’t washed his robe for a week due to busy experimenting, and it was now full of the smells of food and corpses…
However, Aurora didn’t seem to mind. Instead, she reached out and tightened the robe that hung to her calves, enveloping herself in it.
She scanned Albert with her vacant eyes, tilted her head, and thought for a moment.
Then, Aurora twisted off her own head and handed it to Albert.
“…Hm?”
Albert hesitantly took the head, holding the bottom with one hand and subconsciously running his fingers through the smooth hair with the other, “What… do you want me to wash your hair?”
That could be arranged. He hadn’t washed the hair of any other Calamity Stitcher before.
“I want to watch you experiment.”
Aurora, in his arms, tilted her head back and replied.
—But you want me to go back. So I’ll let my head accompany you while my body goes back first.
Albert quickly understood Aurora’s meaning and couldn’t maintain his composure.
“It’s not that I absolutely need you to go back… If you don’t have eyes, how will your body walk back? Purely by sensing? Then wouldn’t it be boring for you to go back.”
He helplessly reattached Aurora’s head, patting and pressing it back into place, “If you want to watch the experiment, just come with me.”
“Oh.”
Aurora responded with a hint of disappointment and followed closely behind Albert.
“Then, I want to wash your hair.”
She suddenly added.
“No need, I can wash it myself…”
Albert sighed. But seeing his junior sister’s clear disappointment, he still turned his own head to the right and twisted it off, handing it to Aurora, “If you really want to, you can play with it first.”
Although he greatly valued his intelligent brain, if it were Aurora, he would willingly offer his head.
“Oh!”
Aurora happily took Albert’s head and held it affectionately, stroking it.
—This is a terrifying act of acrobatics that only two “Calamity Stitchers” can achieve.
And feeling the softness of Aurora’s chest firsthand, Albert’s head’s expression changed once more.
Just as Albert was contemplating how to remind her subtly and politely, Aurora, who was usually taciturn, spoke first, “I saw the news. Two days ago.”
“Ah, then tell me about it. I’ve been busy with my latest project, so I haven’t seen the news for a few days either,” Albert said casually. “But news from two days ago should be considered old news…”
“The King is dead, killed by Red Phase.”
Aurora continued.
“…What?”
Albert froze.
(End of this chapter)
