She shook her head and impatiently asked, "Never mind that. What about the information regarding the First Trial?"
Gilgamel shrugged, "I really don't know what the First Trial entails. Senior Raiden only mentioned that I'd need a reliable team to pass it. I tried asking for more details, but as I said, he was pretending to be drunk. He had no intention of saying more."
The First Trial was known to be intense and perilous. Participants faced real risks: paralysis, injury, and even death.
From the data Gilgamel had gathered, nearly 10% of participants had suffered serious consequences. The statistics were enough to make even seasoned wizards wary. Gilgamel understood the trial's gravity and had prepared for months in advance.
Over the past three months, he'd done nothing but appraise items, practice spells, gather relevant materials, and finalize the essential steps. He had even restructured his sleeping habits to maximize daytime mana efficiency. Everything was in place—except the team.
While Gilgamel considered the missing piece, Medelien struck a pose that could only be described as suggestive—one leg bent, a hand on her hip, the other twirling a lock of her hair, her violet eyes sparkling with mischievous intent.
"What?" He asked.
"Gil," Medelien said with a flutter of her lashes, "don't you think every team needs a beauty?"
Gilgamel blinked, "Something wrong with your eyes, girl?"
Medelien huffed, "Something wrong with your brain! I'm saying you need a beauty like me on your team."
His face twitched.
Could she be any more shameless?
"You mean you want to join my team?" He asked, tone flat.
"Obviously!" She puffed up. "You know I'm good at fire, wind, and earth. I may not be an elite wizard, but I'm versatile. And charming. And I can cook."
Gilgamel considered this. While Medelien often came across as brash, she was dependable. Her cooking alone could boost morale. Having a reliable teammate who could keep him from starving during long expeditions wasn't the worst idea.
He sighed, "Fine..."
◇ ◆ ◇
The location of Owl's headquarters remained a mystery to outsiders. Rumors were plentiful—underground chambers in Evernight City, hidden taverns, or even the city itself functioning as the headquarters. None were true.
The organization went to great lengths to preserve secrecy. It was said that even if one stumbled upon an Owl passage by chance, they would forget its existence the moment they walked away, due to powerful forget-me-not enchantments layered into the architecture.
Gilgamel and Dodo crept through a narrow, dimly lit alleyway. As they moved, Gilgamel whispered an incantation. The air shimmered. In the next instant, they both melted into the shadows and disappeared.
The darkness was a portal, a gateway to the Owl's domain. Only those who knew the ancient words could enter. Even Dodo required Gilgamel's presence to pass. The shadows consumed them not as a void, but as a bridge—a living tunnel of flowing mana that pulsed in time with his heartbeat.
Contrary to public belief, the headquarters wasn't in Evernight City—it governed it. Members called the city the Market Area: a hub for business, alliances, and expansion. Non-members believed it was just another wizarding city, unaware of its deeper affiliation.
The Market Area acted as Owl's mask. It hosted dozens of wizard-owned shops, potion vendors, spell engineers, beast tamers, and adventuring mercenaries. It even had a publicly known administrative guild—none of whom suspected that beneath the entire district lay the pulse of one of the greatest magical organizations in existence.
As the spell ended, Gilgamel and Dodo stood before an enormous twin-swing gate. Its bars looked like dark iron birdcage spines, wrapped in living vines that pulsed faintly. White mist drifted around the base, thickening the air with a mystical presence.
A white owl perched atop the gate, watching them with unblinking eyes.
It had been there since Gilgamel's first visit, and perhaps long before. It never moved. It never blinked.
When Gilgamel once tried to appraise it, the cost in mana crystals had been staggering. He gave up immediately. This owl was no ordinary sentinel. It was ancient, powerful, and best left alone. There were even whispers that it was not a familiar, but a sentient artifact—or a fragment of an ancient god.
As if acknowledging them, the owl shut its eyes. The gate creaked open.
Beyond lay a world that felt ripped from a dream—or a nightmare.
A long winding road led to a colossal castle, shrouded in darkness. Its silhouette resembled a Demon King's lair, straight out of a manga. Thunder rumbled above it, echoing off distant peaks.
Gilgamel remembered his first arrival here. He'd half-suspected he was being sacrificed to a demon king. The aura of menace was overwhelming.
The castle was unsettling. The moon, though full, bled crimson light, casting long shadows that twisted unnaturally. When he tried to appraise the castle, the price in mana crystals nearly gave him a stroke.
"As expected from the top wizarding organization," he muttered.
The Castle of Owl stood as a monument to arcane power. It had ten floors above ground, a basement, and a dungeon. Nine visible towers pierced the sky, each brimming with enchantments and ancient wards.
The novice floor—where Gilgamel resided—was for Level 1–10, the so-called Zero Circle Wizards. It housed dormitories, a cafeteria, training grounds, class halls, a magical arena, and the Teleporter Room.
Each facility was maintained by animated golems crafted by Owl's top engineers. The golems served food, cleaned, repaired furniture, and ensured that magical residue never built up to dangerous levels.
The general area functioned like a lobby and mission board. It buzzed with activity. Some wore the Owl uniform; others dressed lavishly, showing off enchanted robes from foreign lands.
Gilgamel liked the uniform. It looked sharp, felt elegant, and cleaned itself thanks to embedded runes. Even as a former noble, he'd never worn anything so finely enchanted.
He ignored greetings and moved quickly. He wanted rest, not small talk.
Leaving the general area, he walked a shadowy corridor. Magical glyphs flared to life along the walls, lighting his path. Only his footsteps echoed.
At the end, he reached the Teleporter Room.
It held the "Anywhere Curtain"—a magical device allowing instant travel to any room in the castle.
Twelve statues encircled the device, each representing a past or current leader of Owl. Their eyes seemed to follow him.
The atmosphere in the Teleporter Room was always quiet, reverent, like a cathedral. It was one of the few places no one dared to make noise.
Gilgamel entered the curtain and whispered, "Room No. 730."
A moment later, he stood before a door marked "No. 730 - Gilgamel."
He opened it. Dodo followed.
The dormitory was modest: a wooden home with a courtyard, a small living space, a lab, a single bedroom, and a bath. The sky above matched the real world—nighttime shimmered across the false sky.
Exotic plants and potion herbs lined the courtyard, glowing faintly under moonlight. A magical irrigation system ensured their growth regardless of season.
On the porch, Gilgamel snapped his fingers. A mystical lamp flared to life.
Inside, he stripped off his robes, took a long bath, and slipped into his nightclothes. He downed a Sweet Night Potion—a brew for rest and rejuvenation.
It tasted faintly of honey and lavender. The effects were immediate. Warmth spread through his limbs, and the weight of fatigue eased.
He lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, thoughts drifting.
The trial would come soon. He would face it not only with skill, but with friends.
And if fate allowed, he would rise.
Then he closed his eyes, letting the darkness cradle him, his breath slow and even, as he sank into dreamless sleep.