Chapter 75: How About a Ga of Poker?
The sky was turning the pale grey of dawn when Heni hurried toward the Training Ground.
"Professor Viktor! Professor Viktor!"
Viktor, who had been practicing swordwork, heard Heni's voice and set down the longsword in his hand.
Thud—the blade drove into the ground.
"Professor Viktor, the batch of refined steel you ordered has arrived."
Hearing that the refined steel he had ordered was in, Viktor gave Heni a nod, sheathed the sword, and hung it back on the wall.
"Let's go."
Viktor led Heni toward the Manor's front gate.
At the sight of a cart packed full of refined steel outside the gate, Viktor rely lifted the covering cloth, took a quick look, and then waved for the servants to take it in.
"Professor, don't you need to weigh these specifically?"
"That's unnecessary."
This refined steel ca from the Delin Family's top-grade stock. Gwen had seen to it personally, and naturally would not have shorted the order.
Paynt had been settled in advance.
The Coachman flicked his whip, and the carriage gradually departed.
Viktor turned and headed back toward the Manor with Weija. Heni stayed where she was, tilting her head as she watched him go, murmuring to herself:
"Why is the Professor so busy every single day?"
She shook her head and went bounding off toward the flower beds.
***
With a creak, Weija caught the scent of sothing damp and tallic.
This was the basent of Viktor's Manor—and at the sa ti, Viktor's 'laboratory.'
Weija knew that once Viktor appeared here, it ant he was about to tinker with one of his peculiar little inventions again.
Viktor spread so of the refined steel across the table and fixed his gaze on his Player's Crafting Compendium.
To keep the Mage Item Shop stocked without interruption, he crafted 200 bottles of Magic Potion in the basent every day, and kept 100 bottles of Recovery Potion on him at all tis as a precaution.
As a Power Leveler, the habit of stockpiling potions had been etched into his very soul.
It was precisely for this reason that his Crafting Proficiency had risen to Lv3.
He could now begin producing Tier-3 Crafted Items.
Viktor reached into his Player-exclusive Inventory and brought out a heap of crystals in various colors.
"Oh? These are the ones left over from what Gwen brought back from the volcano, and those ones are the ones the little Princess helped you collect yesterday, aren't they."
Weija looked at the crystals in Viktor's hand with so curiosity.
But Viktor simply propped his chin on one hand, brow furrowed, staring at the empty air in front of him.
Seeing him like that, Weija understood Viktor was unlikely to reply and asked no further.
After sifting through the crafting table for quite so ti, Viktor finally found the item that satisfied him.
Following the materials listed in the crafting table, Viktor weighed and asured out the crystals and refined steel.
The amounts were exact—not a single gram off.
Soon, the table was laid out with red and green crystals, and on top of them rested 3 unevenly-shaped pieces of refined steel.
Viktor gradually constructed a Formation on the crafting table—a triangular pattern as the core, a four-sided ring as the support structure, with Runes set into them.
In an instant, a burst of intense light erupted from the crafting table.
Weija stared at that blinding light, which bathed its feathers so thoroughly that it looked for a mont like a white bird.
In truth, it had never been able to understand the crafting technique Viktor used—where re materials were enough to produce results. It could only chalk it up to one-in-ten-thousand Creation-Type Magic.
As the glow gradually faded, Weija's eyes went wide as it looked at Viktor's finished product.
2 small, finely made iron cards—cold light glinting off their edges, razor-sharp.
The patterns etched into them were different from each other: 1 card was laced with green patterns, and the other with red.
Viktor looked at the pair of cards before him and knew he had succeeded—not only had he crafted Tier-3 Items, but he had infused them with both the Wood and Fire elents.
"What is this thing even for?"
Weija asked curiously, staring at the iron throwing cards with complete incomprehension.
However impressive, however sharp, they were still just throwing cards.
If throwing cards could kill enemies, that would be fine—but flimsy iron cards like these might be dodged outright, rendering the 2 cards entirely useless.
Viktor didn't answer. He simply repeated the steps he had just perford in silence.
Burst after burst of intense light flared up from the basent one after another.
An indeterminate amount of ti passed. Weija felt like its eyes were about to go blind from all the flashing.
Viktor finally stopped.
Iron cards of every variety covered the entire crafting table.
"1, 2, 3……20……73……108."
"You made 2 decks of playing cards? Want to throw in a couple of jokers while you're at it?"
Playing cards did exist in this world—one of the few pleasures available to gamblers.
Back when he was doing Power Leveling, the thing Viktor most enjoyed doing in his spare ti was running off to a gambling den and playing a few exciting rounds against gambler after gambler. He won more often than not.
So how did you identify whether an NPC was a gambler in the ga?
Simple—just ask them if they wanted to play a hand.
In a sense, an NPC's gambling habit ran deeper than most players'.
But Weija was thoroughly puzzled. If the goal was to make a weapon, why not craft a staff? And even if it had to be a close-range weapon, at least a dagger would make more sense.
It hadn't expected Viktor to end up making a pile of these things.
Viktor placed 1 color-matched deck of cards into a Formation. This one had 54 small circles arranged within it, with a position for each card, and a single larger circle in the center.
Before long, yet another burst of intense light blazed up.
Weija's vision went white, and a sudden bout of dizziness hit it.
All it could hear was a fierce clanging of tal from before it—as though sothing was being forcibly overlapping and compressed together.
When the light finally faded, Weija saw just 2 iron cards remaining—except compared to before, they were slightly thicker.
"How did you do that? They've fused together?"
Viktor paid it no attention and simply picked up 1 of the throwing cards, hurling it at the Wooden Training Dummy.
The instant the red throwing card flew out, 1 card instantly beca a full deck—52 iron cards drove into the Wooden Training Dummy and burst into roaring flas.
The mont the flas ignited, the cards ca flying back. A white steam-like smoke billowed up in an instant, cooling the temperature of the cards back down.
They hovered around Viktor, the surface of each card radiating a faint red glow—like loyal guards in attendance.
Weija looked at the countless throwing cards spinning around Viktor and blinked.
Viktor explained plainly:
"They make up for my shortcomings in close-range combat."
Weija turned this over in its mind.
Shortcomings in close-range combat?
That wasn't what it looked like when you were fighting warriors and Knights hand-to-hand.
Weija was fairly certain Viktor simply wanted to look cool, but it had no proof.
At the very least, it had yet to witness anyone get close enough to Viktor to threaten him—not even a Calamity had managed it.
"So then, do your dashing playing cards have a na? I've never seen a weapon like this before."
Viktor narrowed his eyes. His mind stirred faintly, the throwing cards ceased their spinning, rged back into a deck, and settled against his waist.
"I call it—Fate."
Weija played along with great enthusiasm.
"A perfect na."
Viktor put Fate away and stepped out of the basent.
The mont he erged, the little Succubus ca rushing toward him in a great hurry.
"Pro—Professor!"
She was slightly out of breath and handed Viktor a letter.
Viktor furrowed his brow in puzzlent.
Delivering letters was generally a task for the servants.
Heni caught her breath and explained:
"Professor, I was just about to head out to the Mage Item Shop, and this letter ca flying into the mailbox by the front gate—addressed for your signature."
"So I brought it straight to you."
Heni smiled brightly, as though being able to help Viktor was sothing that made her exceptionally happy.
Viktor gave a nod, his doubts dispelled—but then he noticed Heni still standing there without moving, fidgeting awkwardly, her eyes holding what looked like anticipation.
Viktor: "?"
As he was wondering whether he had forgotten sothing, Heni spoke up with a slightly embarrassed air:
"Professor, today……you haven't patted my head yet."
"……"
Right. The daily pat.
He placed his hand on top of Heni's head and ruffled it thoroughly.
A sense of complete and brimming happiness filled the top of her head. Heni was very satisfied.
After Viktor withdrew his hand, she looked as though she still wanted more—but then seed to suddenly realize just how outrageous a request she had just made, and her cheeks flushed a deep crimson red.
"I I I……Professor! I'm going to work now!"
With that, Heni covered her blazing red face and bolted away.
Viktor's hand hung suspended in the air.
Just now, he had noticed Heni's Level.
Lv7.
The rate at which this little Succubus was leveling up—wasn't it a bit excessively fast?
Weija stood nearby, its gaze taking on a thoughtful quality.
"What are you thinking about?"
Viktor asked the Crow. Only to hear Weija say slowly:
"I suddenly thought of sothing. A Primordial Demon is a collection of Magic Power that stirs up emotions—they have no substantial physical body or soul."
"I'm considering a possibility: when Yem was blown apart by you, a portion of its characteristics may not have fully withdrawn from Heni's body. As a result, Heni has co to possess a fraction of Greed's power."
"From this, it follows that the reason this little Succubus keeps getting stronger may be because you have been satisfying her Greed."
Viktor mulled it over. This sort of thing was fairly outlandish—he had never seen anything like it before.
But what Weija said was not without logic. Or rather, it was currently the only explanation for why the Succubus's Magic Power kept growing without going through certain kinds of special behavior.
"Well, if that's the case, then Heni's Greed is really far too easy to satisfy."
Even as it finished saying this, Weija found itself not entirely convinced.
All it took to satisfy her every day was a pat on the head and a hug—could that truly count as Greed?
Viktor listened quietly to Weija's words and weighed the letter in his hand.
"Either way, there's no harm in it."
"You're right. So then—the Mage Council has sent you another letter?"
The magical residue on the envelope was still extrely potent, but this ti there was a difference: no magical puzzle on it.
Viktor took the letter back to the Study with Weija and opened the envelope with a burst of Magic Power.
The phantom Mage from the letter appeared once more.
"We et again, Lord Viktor."
Viktor watched him with the sa cold indifference as ever and said evenly:
"If the Council had not agreed to my demands, they would not have written back to . But agreeing to every single one of my demands doesn't sound like your style either."
"Speak. What is it that would make you invite at any cost?"
The Mage shook his head with a wry smile.
"You really see right through everything, Lord Viktor."
He straightened his posture, and his voice turned grave:
"In truth, our Mage Council is in need of your assistance."
"According to the Prophecy, before long—Endymion will face a great calamity."
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