Only a single room in Florent's villa remained illuminated by candlelight.
He blew softly on the wax-sealed envelope, tracing the uneven ridges of the seal with his fingers before abruptly looking up at the flickering flame and muttering to himself...
"I should cancel tonight's trip to the gathering at the 'Flame Axe' tavern. It's better to wait until I reach Sequence 8– no, Sequence 7. If Sam (the owner of the
tavern) is also colluding with the Demoness Sect for profit, I'd be walking into a death trap."
"For now…" His façade of composure finally crumbled.
Slumping, he pushed open the study door at a measured pace and hurried toward the herb storage room. His body had begun vehemently protesting the untreated wounds.
Earlier, adrenaline had dulled the pain, but with the crisis averted, every cut and bruise announced itself with renewed vengeance.
In this world, medicinal herbs were just that... herbs.
Only those with supernatural properties or mystical ingredients were stored in the basement, while common remedies for injuries were kept in a dedicated room, which spared Florent a longer ordeal.
Yet when he barged into the herb room, his hopes were dashed to pieces. Not a single pre-mixed salve awaited him...
The lone candle's glow cast his dull pain-twisted face into grotesque relief against the shadows...
'No need to audition as a haunted house actor... I'd scare patrons just by standing here...' he thought wryly.
With a sigh, he set down the candle and bolted out. After scavenging four more candles from nearby rooms and lighting them, he faced the herb shelves which was neatly flanked by a bookcase.
Florent randomly grabbed a remedy manual, scrutinized the dosages and names, then he channeled his past life's lab-experiment precision to concoct a salve.
Fortunately, bruise ointments were simplest to prepare. Soon, a jet-black paste stared back at him.
Doubt flickered in his mind, but it was overruled by pride... 'Twelve years of compulsory education didn't produce a fool...'
Then he smeared the salve on his wounds.
*Hiss!*
The sting made him flinch, but the sensation mirrored the effect 'Deep Heat' spray from his previous life.
Reassured, he checked the clock... 10:30 PM.
'I took an hour and a half just to patch myself up...'
Finding no urgent tasks left, he skimmed the manual's instructions once more.
After he was done, he surrendered to exhausted sleep...
.....
The following days settled into a rigid routine: eat, study, sleep.
Occasional diversions (circuses, magic shows, plays, or the newly popular "moving pictures") kept monotony at bay.
Now, Florent melted into his sofa's embrace and exhaled in relief. The absence of pain was a luxury.
Nestling aggressively into cushions had always been his guilty pleasure, something he was denied for weeks by back abrasions.
Even his first post-injury attempt had backfired spectacularly, the agony even forming a fleeting phobia.
But since he was finally healed, his habit resumed triumphantly.
Flexing his fingers, Florent reviewed the past two weeks:
- Quevedo's Discretion: After sending the letter, Quevedo deduced the situation and played along, "forgetting" Florent's connection to the Abraham Family, thus granting Florent blessed solitude.
- Potion Digestion: This was Florent's top priority, digesting his Sequence 9 potion... This had reignited his passion for learning since it was going to help quicken the digestion speed.
Yesterday, Florent finally succeeded. He felt a click echo within him as the 'Apprentice' potion submitted entirely to his control.
The breakthrough granted him unrestricted teleportation... 'Unrestricted' meaning the 'Gate of Angels' wasn't required anymore.
As for walls, doors, and barriers? Utterly meaningless... {T:N/ I think this shouldn't be possible for a Sequence 9 Apprentice... So I think it's either this fic is extreme A.U, or, Florent has a 'Cheat' that he's unaware of, or maybe I messed up the TRANSLATION somewhere... Your thoughts?}
'Hah! Try stopping me now!' he gloated inwardly.
No wonder the mighty 'Gate of Angels' sat unused for a long time... To a fully digested 'Apprentice', that paper was obsolete... a mere relic to memorialize the Abraham ancestors.
Speaking of which… Florent's heart ached. The sheet bearing his fallen ancestor's signature had vanished after that single use...
"Indestructible my foot. It seems the ancestors were exaggerating." He scratched his head, aggrieved.
The "indestructible" claim likely referred to resisting age, not a brute-force sword slash.
The Abrahams (though proud of the sheet's mystique) never tested its limits... it was, after all, a sentimental keepsake of faded glory.
Had his forefathers witnessed a descendant using their sacred autograph as a shield (and surviving), would they rage or rejoice?
"They'd Probably rejoice. A living heir trumps pride after all..." Florent nodded in self-assurance.
As for how a mundane scrap with an angel's name held such power, Florent had theories:
'Gabriel', the true name behind the 'Ancestral Staff' (later known as the 'Staff of the Stars' in Klein's era), was once a bona fide Angel.
Even a scribbled name from such a being would retain post mortem power...
"Still, the loss stings..."
...
{T/N: The 'Staff of the Stars' is also canonically known as 'Sealed Artifact 0-62'...}