Talent Awakening: I, the Weakest Awakened, Start with Dragonfire Spell

"A ceremony. This place is the site for a ceremony, prepared for the arrival of a god," the clown mask took a step forward, releasing his hold on the wound.

"There, I've answered your question. You should know what comes next."

"It's a pity you didn't join Eternal Flame. But now, you've run out of chances."

"I advise against struggling; it will only make your end more painful."

Step by step, the clown mask approached Nula, with her mana shield proving utterly incapable of forming an impediment.

The moment it came into contact with the clown mask's palm, it shattered thunderously, leaving only countless points of light wandering aimlessly through the air.

A layer of iridescent film coated the clown mask's palm, a manifestation of mana condensed to its utmost limits!

The clown mask had no intention of directly interrogating Nula, considering such an approach time-consuming and ineffective.

It would be much more convenient to question Nula's soul directly.

Nula met the clown mask's eyes squarely, with death imminent, yet no trace of fear could be seen in her gaze.

"Such a pity," she suddenly said, causing the clown mask to pause momentarily.

"What is regrettable?" he inquired.

"Why did you join Eternal Flame?" Nula asked, looking him in the eyes.

"This cult has produced nothing! Its existence only means more people will die!"

"Birth, aging, sickness, and death are the natural states of humanity," the clown mask responded blandly.

"We are merely accelerating the process. For the gods, for ascension, such sacrifices are inconsequential."

"What if you were the one being sacrificed?" she challenged.

The clown mask did not reply, merely continuing his previously halted actions.

"Hypocritical creature, your death will be no loss," Nula scoffed coldly.

Who is Dorek?

Anyone familiar with him knows it's better to provoke him directly than to mess with his disciple.

This damned immortal is undeniably very protective!

Why did Nula dare to venture alone into the stronghold of the Eternal Flame cult, and even upon discovering the presence of the clown mask, chose to follow instead of turning away?

Because her teacher is named Dorek!contemporary romance

The feeling of having a powerful mentor is truly wonderful.

A smile crept onto Nula's face.

"Seal Technique, Ashen Rock Space!"

Another scroll disintegrated, its mundane yet unstoppable mana fluctuations expanding outward.

Without any effective resistance, the clown mask lost his ability to move at the instant the scroll crumbled, his eyes veiled in gray.

This was something Dorek had once done to Amriel.

Using Dorek's scroll, Nula had frozen the clown mask's personal timeline, completely locking down his movements.

In this state, the clown mask couldn't even think.

Until Nula deactivated the spell, his consciousness would remain fixed at that specific moment.

"I'll definitely need to show my appreciation for the old man when I get back!"

Looking at the thoroughly immobilized clown mask, Nula let out a long sigh of relief and glanced back at the entrance of the passage.

No one had come in.

The followers must have been instructed by the clown mask, which conveniently worked in Nula's favor.

With her nerves slightly relaxed, Nula took out another scroll and tossed it towards the clown mask.

As the scroll shattered, a thin green light enveloped him.

The Corrosion Spell, effective against both mana defenses and physical barriers, was a special spell far beyond Nula's current mastery.

If this spell were applied directly to flesh, the spellcaster wouldn't even feel pain before dissolving into a puddle of pus.

Of course, Nula didn't intend to kill the clown mask right then and there.

He certainly couldn't be left alive, but this wasn't the place to end him.

She was curious about what lay at the end of this corridor.

The clown mask's personal room? Or something even more significant?

All she knew now was that this location was established for the purpose of "ceremony" production, yet her information about the so-called "ceremony" was almost non-existent.

Nula, in fact, was unable to move the frozen clown mask; this temporary halt in time was not something she could control at will.

Though she had immobilized the clown mask using a scroll, she had effectively also added a layer of robust defense to him.

Of course, she could remove the spell, but then Nula wasn't sure if she could immobilize him again next time.

The scroll's area of effect was limited, marking Nula's greatest weakness.

Thus, she used the Corrosion Spell to sever the clown mask's connection with his surroundings.

This allowed her to use mana to move him without disrupting his current state.

Mana surged forth, forming an invisible hand that took control of the fixed clown mask, and with that, Nula proceeded towards the depths of the corridor, carrying the clown mask along.

She was determined to uncover what exactly was happening here; only then could she truly thwart the plans of Eternal Flame.

At the end of the corridor stood a heavy iron door.

Nula pressed her ear against it, listening; not a sound was heard.

It seemed there was no one behind the door.

Nula reapplied Invisibility to herself and cast another on the clown mask before slowly pushing open the iron door.

Inside was a separate small compartment, with a door on the wall leading to another chamber; beyond that, there were no other exits.

The inner chamber was furnished with a bed and simple furniture, but no matter how one looked at it, it did not resemble a place where the leader of a stronghold would reside; it rather seemed more like a prison.

Nula made a round through the two small rooms.

The outer room featured a large desk, beside which stood a tall oak bookshelf on one side and a metal coat rack on the other, draped with a black cloak and a white coat, as well as a small black hat.

Nula took a seat behind the desk, where the surface was immaculate, adorned only by a blank sheet of paper.

To the right stood an ink bottle and a feather quill, and to the left lay an open notebook, its pages filled with complex equations.

A glance at the formulas revealed they were all about the basics of magic spells.

Was this clown mask still studying these things?

Flipping through the notebook, she noted it was densely packed with very fundamental knowledge.

It seemed the clown mask was a studious learner; a significant portion of the notes were meticulously annotated, even including his own thought processes.

But why would someone, whose power neared that of a level 1 magus, delve into topics studied by preparatory-level magi?

The notebook didn't look old; the handwriting was clear, and the ink still vivid, suggesting it wasn't more than two months old.

Shaking her head, Nula placed the notebook back in its original spot.

Her intuition hinted that there was something hidden within these notes, yet she couldn't discern it at the moment.

Thus, her attention shifted towards the tall oak bookshelf.

Surely, it must hold something of value! Every cult should have its scripture.

Being the leader of the stronghold and a great diocese, the clown mask ought to possess such a text.

So, Nula began her search.

However, she found nothing.

It wasn't exactly fruitless; at least she could now confirm that the clown mask was indeed a studious and presumably self-

taught student with a strong capability for learning.

The entire bookshelf of the clown mask was stocked with foundational texts on magicology, virtually encompassing all branches of the discipline, from magic potions to magic spells, from mana creatures to puppet spells.

It could be said that these books were the most classic introductions to the study of magicology.

But what use was all of this? Both Nula and the clown mask had long since surpassed this stage.

Even if one were to review the basics, this wasn't the way to do it!

"What is this guy up to!"

Nula slumped back into her chair behind the desk, propping her chin with one hand and sighing at the immobilized clown mask in front of her.

"Are you also some extraterrestrial? With your power, yet still cramming the basics of magicology... One Howard is enough!"

Saying so, Nula leaned back, her gaze inadvertently falling upon the ceiling of the compartment, her eyes suddenly widening.

She saw a spell matrix!

"Painted on the ceiling, not afraid of corrosive ink dripping down on oneself, huh."

Nula sprang up, craning her neck to meticulously inspect every structure of the spell matrix.

This matrix was very similar to the one she had seen in Rodel city, almost identical in size, the number of functional modules, and scope, with only differences in the details.

Typically, variations in these details often point to the matrix's purpose.

The matrix before her was yet another one leading to an unknown location.

Should she activate it?

Could it be a trap?

done.co