A chat group for a certain tower warlock

"Shh!"

Yarman vanished from his spot in an instant, and the next second he appeared above the explosion site. Looking at the dozen or so stone statues of his servants that had been shattered to pieces below, a flash of anger appeared in his eyes. But when he looked at the person who had come from there, the anger vanished instantly.

"Why are you here?" Yarman looked at the fallen angel holding two staffs, who slowly landed on the ground. He took out a staff from his pocket and gently pointed it at the rubble behind him. The stone statue servant instantly returned to normal. "You didn't even tell me you were coming. Also, why are your clothes so tattered?"

"I just came to you to fix something." Mostima smiled and took the crucifix out of his pocket. "I didn't expect you to have so many stone statue servants here, and such powerful ones at that!"

“I’ve recorded your information for them. You won’t be attacked if you come here again,” Yarman said calmly, casually creating a spatial rift. “Let’s go to the tower.”

"it is good!"

Inside the tower, Yarman held the cross in his hand, his brow furrowed, and said in a puzzled tone, "The material of this cross is only slightly inferior to D32 steel, and the defensive magic on it can withstand the direct impact of large-scale natural disasters multiple times. How exactly did you manage to break it?"

"Are you going to follow those lunatics and try to brave a massive natural disaster?"

After hearing his words, Mostima pulled at the wizard's robe she was wearing. Her previous clothes had been ripped to shreds and were no longer wearable, so Yarman gave her one of his old wizard's robes. The robe, which had an automatic close-fitting spell, fit her very well and was very comfortable. She liked it very much.

She picked up her glass somewhat awkwardly. "For this mission, I went to Kazdel, met some people, some pretty powerful people, and then it all shattered."

Playing with the cross in his hand, which had a deep sword mark on it, Yarman raised an eyebrow slightly. He placed the cross on the table. "Just some people, huh? These people are really amazing. Even the Letanian Artillery Regiment might not be able to break through the barrier, but they actually did. It's incredible."

"..."×2

"Okay, actually I ran into a pardoner. Do you know what a pardoner is?"

“I know, a bunch of Kazdel lunatics. I’ve fought some of them. Their slashing spells are very powerful. Ordinary defensive spells and armor are like paper in front of them, completely vulnerable.”

"Yes, I accidentally ran into their leader and his guards this time, and then we got into a fight."

"..."×2

"You're lucky you didn't die!"

Chapter 31: So I'm leaving?

Sitting on the sofa, Yarman kept looking at the cross in his hand. Finally, he helplessly put it on the table. "This thing is beyond repair. The magic circuits inside have been completely destroyed, and even the material structure of the cross itself has been destroyed."

"This thing has already turned into a block of iron. The only worthwhile option is to take it out and sell it as scrap metal."

"You can't fix it either?" Mostima frowned slightly, looking at the cross in front of her. She quite liked the black cross. "Aren't you a tower warlock?"

“Yes, I do have a way to fix it, but it would take more time and money than rebuilding it. From an economic point of view, I would personally prefer to give you a new one.” Yarman looked at the cross in front of him, leaned back on the sofa, shrugged, and said helplessly.

Looking at Mostima, whose expression remained calm, Yalman sighed. "You decide for yourself."

“…I still hope it can be fixed.” Mostima remained silent for a long time before finally saying slowly, “Is that alright?”

“Then fix it.” Yarman sat up straight, holding the cross in his hand. Instantly, his eyes turned into a dazzling gold, and a soft yet vast magical light flickered in his palm. The magical circuits that had been torn apart by the slashing spell reconnected under the magical light.

Five minutes later, Yarman slowly opened his palm, and the black cross that had been shattered became brand new. Under the light, one could even see some flowing golden magic.

"Alright, it's fixed now." Yarman slowly placed the cross on the table and said wearily, "I've upgraded it. Next time you encounter a Pardoner, their slashing spells won't be able to cut through its defenses. Whew... You can go now, I need to rest."

Seeing that Yarman was about to collapse onto the sofa at any moment, Mostima frowned. She stood up, walked slowly to his side, looked down into his eyes and said, "You seem very tired."

“Yes, I’m very tired,” Yarman replied weakly. “You…you can do as you please. Access to the Wizarding Tower has been granted to you. I’m going to rest now.”

"Wait a minute!" Mostima reached out and blocked his path, pulling him back onto the sofa. She placed her hand on his head in confusion, "Why is the aura of time so strong on you? Why is your body so damaged, and why does every wound exude the aura of time?"

“This is probably the price of becoming a legend.” Yarman forced a smile. “I fought against the river of time head-on. I won, I gained great results, and I also paid the price.”

“To defy the river of time, how could you even think of that!” Mostima looked at the wizard before her, lowered her head and sighed. When she raised her head, her eyes were completely empty. “Look into my eyes!”

"Uh-huh……"

"Bong!"

Looking at Yarman lying on the sofa, Mostima gently removed the various protective gear from his body, took off his wizard robe with extremely high magic resistance, looked at Philin who was only wearing a black casual outfit, took out the two staffs behind him, and slowly pointed them at his body.

The magical light emanating from her staff was as dazzling and intense as the sun. A huge phantom appeared behind her, looking at Philin, who was in a deep coma, and said with a smile, "This is much simpler!"

The next second, the purple-gold magical light transformed into a torrent of magic, bombarding Yarman!

…………

"Ahhhhhh!"

With a painful cry, Yarman slowly opened his eyes. He tried to get up, but was stopped by intense pain inside his body. He could only lie on the sofa, motionless.

"You're awake? That's great. I was worried you might never wake up again."

A soft and gentle voice came from his ear, and a face with a black halo appeared before him. "It looks like the effect is quite good. Your injuries will be healed in just one month."

"...What injury?"

“The hidden wounds eroded by the river of time.” Mostima said, holding a beer glass in his hand. “These erosion wounds will not erupt immediately, but will continue to erode your body until the day you can’t take it anymore. Then they will erupt in an instant and turn you into a cripple.”

"Time is a master of deception. It makes you think you're just overworked, and then it quietly turns you into a useless person."

"Then now..."

“Now I’ve removed all the time energy from your body, so your body can heal your injuries.” Mostima walked to the liquor shelf, poured himself another large glass of beer, and sat down opposite Yarman, drinking continuously.

"..."

What are you trying to say?

"I want to say... I want some too, give me some as well."

"...What would you like to drink?"

"I just need some iced Redberg, I'm dying of thirst."

“Okay, just a moment.” Mostima got up, walked to the liquor shelf, poured him a large glass of cold water in a beer mug, and handed it to him. “Here, your Redberg.”

"...This is plain boiled water, not Redberg. I want to drink alcohol."

“I’m sorry, the patient can’t drink alcohol.” Mostima smiled and refused his request, forcibly opening his mouth and slowly pouring water into it. “I went to so much trouble to save your life, I don’t want you to drink yourself to death. Just drink the water.”

Having his mouth forced full of water, Yarman said irritably, "Alright, I'll be fine here by myself. You can go now, hurry up and go do your mission."

"I don't have any missions right now. Besides, if I leave, who will take care of you?"

"I have stone statue servants, and they are very intelligent!"

"Really? I don't believe it."

"Don't believe me? I'll show you!" Yarman shouted angrily, "Guards! Guards!"

"..."×n

“Look, you call them, and they don’t even flinch.” Mostima gave a mocking smile. “Of course, if you insist that I leave, I can leave right away. Just don’t starve to death then.”

"..."

"I'm leaving."

Seeing Mostima actually walking outside, Yarman immediately panicked. Although he didn't know why his puppet was disobeying him, he knew that he couldn't use magic at all right now. If she left, he would really starve to death!

The legendary great wizard who starved to death—if word got out, he would probably be remembered for eternity.

"Wait, wait a minute! Don't go! Mostima! Little Momo! Momo! Don't go!"

"Huh? Why? Didn't you tell me to leave?"

"This...this...I was just out of my mind, I was wrong, don't go, don't go." Yarman lay on the sofa like a dead fish. "Help me through this period of weakness, and I'll give you anything you want—spellbooks, forbidden magic, magical artifacts, anything!"

Hearing his words, Mostima slowly walked back, gently patting his head with her right hand. "Good, you made the right decision." The binding spell on her left hand also dissipated.

Chapter Thirty-Two: Mostima's Guardian Gun

Leaning back on the sofa, Yarman looked at Mostima, who was sitting opposite him drinking beer non-stop, and asked with some confusion, "According to Laterano's rules, shouldn't you be prohibited from drinking alcohol?"

“It’s just that you can’t drink too much,” Mostima retorted, holding his wine glass. “No one will stop you from drinking normally, not to mention that even the Pope himself is a devoted wine lover.”

“Moderate drinking… I don’t think you’re doing it moderately!” Yarman’s eyes twitched slightly. He looked at the eight huge beer barrels in front of him, then at Mostima, who was drinking non-stop from his glass. “You’ve drunk my entire month’s worth of beer in the three days you’ve been here.”

"That's just moderate drinking. As long as I'm not drunk, I'm drinking in moderation."

“…But beer is high in calories, Mo.” Yarman looked at his collection of beers with a bit of heartache. Those were all top-quality Leitania special beers that you couldn’t buy outside. “One glass of beer has the same calories as one and a half bowls of rice. You’ll get fat if you drink like this.”

"Really?" Mostima sat up, half-drunk, picked up the beer barrel that was lying on the carpet, and looked at it closely with her pretty face. "No, it didn't say that it was zero calories."

Seeing Mostima continue to guzzle, Yarman finally couldn't take it anymore. He sat up straight and shouted, "Don't finish it all by yourself! I want some too!"

“It’s okay, I’ll buy you more after you finish this one, don’t rush.” Mostima said, swirling her beer glass. She found herself quite liking the taste of this beer; no wonder it was from a great wizard’s collection, the taste was indeed extraordinary. “By the way, where did you buy this again?”

“This stuff isn’t available for purchase; it’s a special supply.” Yarman said weakly, lying on the sofa. “Back when I was working for that Elector Harry, he would send over supplies every now and then. Don’t be fooled by these ordinary beer barrels; the beer inside is something special!”

"In other words, once it's finished, it's gone."

"As long as you know."

“I see…” Mostima nodded as if he understood, then drank even more. “Since there’s no more left after this, I’d better drink more, otherwise there won’t be any left to drink later.”

"[Leytanian profanity]! You drank it all, but I'll drink it all...wait!"

"Hmm? What's wrong?"

"Someone's here!" Yarman said, lying on the sofa with a puzzled expression. "A pink-haired woman with red eyes, holding a strange weapon... wait a minute, why is her armband the Lateran symbol?"

"Huh?" Mostima sat on the sofa, paused for a moment, then realized what he meant. She smiled and put down her wine glass, saying, "That's my supervisor, now called the Suffering Narrator. He's responsible for following me and recording any unusual behavior I might do. Every fallen angel who comes out has one of these people."

"Oh." Yalman nodded thoughtfully, then suddenly asked, "How strong is she?"

"not bad."

“Then go and pick her up.” Yarman looked at Mostima across from him. “At the southwest gate of the moving city, she’s having a little conflict with my stone statue servants. There are more than twenty statues surrounding her and beating her. She looks like she’s about to be beaten to death. If you don’t go soon, you can collect her body.”

"Huh?!" Mostima immediately stood up. Although she didn't like having someone following her around all the time, she didn't want to change to a new guardian. At least she could talk to this person, but the others were like rocks in a latrine.

"Wait a minute!"

Looking at Mostima who had suddenly disappeared, Yarman shrugged. He wasn't worried about Lateran's retaliation. To be honest, if Mostima hadn't been there, even if that person had been beaten to death by the stone statue servants, he wouldn't have gone to save him. Trespassing on the territory of a legendary wizard, he deserved to die.

Besides, what is Lateran? Is it a small country that was wiped out by the Patriots and the Papal Cavalry, or a small country that occupies only three small squares on the map, or a small country that produces a lot of sweets?

"[Letanian profanity] Never mind, I'll just have some beer first!" Yarman forced himself up from the sofa, strained to reach Mostima's glass, pulled it over, and then downed the beer in one gulp. "Ha~~~ This is the good life! Who drinks water if they're a decent person?"

"You're drinking again? And using my glass!"

"What do you mean 'your cup'? This is my cup." Yarman pointed around without turning his head. "Everything here is mine, even the clothes you're wearing! I can use them whenever I want!"

"Is this the righteous man you've chosen? A drunkard?" A strange voice rang out in the hall.

"No, it's just an alternative."

"Good heavens, so I've become a backup option!" Yarman leaned back on the sofa, unconcerned, and laughed, "You're really good at playing games, Mostima! Even righteous people can have backup options. Come on, tell me, who are they? I'll give you some advice and help you solve your problems!"

Mostima snatched the wine glass from his hand, sat down on the opposite sofa, and said with a smile, "You can also give me advice and solve my problems? How do you want to solve my problems?"

“Yeah, I can kill all your backup options for you, then you won’t have the trouble of choosing anymore, right?” Yarman said with a smile, his smile full of nonchalance. “See how thoughtful I am? Besides, I don’t believe you can find any other righteous people when you go out now.”

Why can't I find it?

“I remember that the custom in Lateran was to choose a righteous person and then give him one’s guardian musket, right?”

"Ah."

“Your guardian gun isn’t with you, so how are you going to give it to him?” Yarman took out an exquisite gun from his pocket, placed it slowly on the table, and spread his hands. “This thing is with me.”

“……?” ×2

Mostima's expression changed. She reached into her robes and pulled out a wooden toy gun. She placed the wooden gun on the table, seemingly a little angry. She looked at Yarman and said seriously, "Why did my Guardian Gun end up with you without my knowledge?"

“How should I know? Maybe it thought I made the right choice and came here on its own?” Yarman remained as nonchalant as before. “But your gun certainly made the right choice.”

"...Give it back to me!"

"No!"

"Give it to me!"

"I won't!" Yarman snatched the gun and put it in his pocket. "Now that it's in my hands, you think you can get it back? Dream on!"

"You're stealing! Give it back to me!" Mostima angrily pounced on him, pinning Yarman down on the sofa. She placed her hands on his chest, tore open his mage robes, and searched for her Guardian Gun.

"An ordinary wizard trying to find what a legendary great wizard has hidden? You're so naive, Mo!"

"Just you wait until I find it, I'll kill you!"

"Go ahead and look, look all you want. If you can find it in your lifetime, I'll admit defeat!"

The woman sitting to the side, recounting her suffering, stared dumbfounded at the two who had suddenly started playing around. Her mind went blank for a moment. The world was changing too fast; she felt like she couldn't keep up with the times.

Why did Mostima become like this? She was perfectly normal just a few months ago!

Chapter Thirty-Three: A Difficult Choice