[Bisera - Lv. 29] [Maid - E-Rank]

  Scanning the entire coven would likely take years. Orion would have loved nothing more than to gather information on everyone, but the glasses required a considerable amount of power to operate. Although that mana was channeled through the silverite instead of him, which meant it didn’t necessarily tire him out, it caused the artifact to become increasingly hot after a few uses.

  It has to be an efficiency problem, either with my code or the silverite itself. But I’m unlikely to get my hands on another pure ingot anytime soon, and taking the glasses apart now that I have a working pair would be a waste.

  What ultimately happened was that Orion had to choose his targets with care. He could manage four, maybe five inspections every few hours before needing to stop and let the glasses cool down. The only time he attempted a sixth, they had burned the bridge of his nose, and the metal had felt far too malleable for his taste.

  No, he couldn’t risk them getting damaged, so he’d stick to the safe amounts. That was still a lot of uses, and he’d gained a much clearer understanding of the Sanctum over the past half day.

  First, there were many hidden powerhouses. Some of the older witches could have easily fit among those old grandmas he had seen sitting at tables in southern Italy during one of his conferences, but an inspection revealed that they were quite formidable.

  Vespera, the first one he’d checked, was among the most powerful, but she wasn’t the only one. Over fifteen others had levels above one hundred, yet they spent their time either monitoring children, badgering students, or simply observing the stars from a balcony with a cup of tea.

  To be fair, that doesn’t sound like a bad retirement, but I expected them to look more impressive.

  Tier three witches were supposed to be rare. All the books he had read agreed on this. However, even a preliminary assessment told Orion that the Sanctum must have had at least a hundred.

  Suddenly, he began to wonder whether the reason behind the coven’s reputation was not just the High Priestess, but also because anyone who dared to attack would find themselves facing a hundred witches capable of razing a town on their own.

  Sometimes, his observations turned out to be failures, like in the case of his last one. This Bisera had been particularly elusive, moving from shadow to shadow and glancing around to ensure no one had seen her.

  Unfortunately for Orion, that secrecy was merely part of a romantic thirst. The girl slipped into an alcove, where a guardsman quickly approached her, and they exchanged passionate kisses.

  I should have waited a little longer. That was such a poor use of my last Inspect for the day.

  Indeed, the hour had grown very late. So late, in fact, that he could almost see the night sky starting to lighten with the dawn.

  The excitement of the System Detection Glasses’ successful forging, followed by the inspection spree he’d gone on, had lasted longer than he initially planned. Given that he’d promised to go to Silverpeak with his mother in just a few hours, it would be best for him to go back to sleep.

  Still, Orion thought as he walked down the stairs to the fourth floor, I gained a lot from this, and I should be able to get an even better sample tomorrow in town.

  Asteria had essentially manhandled the spy during their first visit, which told him that there had to be a significant difference between a Magistra and what was considered strong outside the Sanctum.

  However, getting confirmation would be best. He was not the kind of scientist who operated on hunches. Data was king.

  Even obtaining a baseline for Silverpeak’s citizens would be useful. So far, he had been able to gather that most mundanes—those who worked as cooks, cleaners, and in all the other roles needed for the Sanctum to function smoothly—averaged between level twenty for the youngest and seventy for the most highly placed individuals.

  Seeing the Head Cook at level seventy with an E-rank class called Gourmet Chef was a surprise, but Orion figured it was just another case of the Sanctum siphoning off the best people from its territory.

  He had to reevaluate the value of non-magical classes, though. If someone could advance to the second tier and still have at least a couple of decades of working life ahead of them, did that mean that Tier three mundanes were a possibility?

  I imagine all classes start to become magical after a certain point. Gourmet Chef seems like a pretty straightforward upgrade from the basic Chef class, but if he were to keep growing and reach level one hundred, what kind of class would be offered to him?

  Probably something related to food, but he suspected it would begin to diverge more toward alchemy than simple cooking. That was, of course, if it hadn’t already.

  I always feel energized after eating in the mess hall, and most people without families tend to eat there, even though it's very easy to take care of chores with magic. Does that mean the food served there has some esoteric effects?

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  The questions never seemed to end. The more he discovered about this world, the more he realized how little he knew, yet he couldn’t deny that it was a thrilling feeling.

  Tomorrow will be interesting.

  Orion awoke to sunlight pouring onto his face. He had neglected to close the curtains the previous night, as he was preoccupied with analyzing his data. Even after returning to his room, he dedicated another half-hour to jotting down observations and various thoughts.

  A few years ago, Asteria would have checked on him at dawn and pulled the curtains for him, but she had not entered his room again since that fateful day.

  Sometimes, Orion felt the urge to shake her, to rage and question how she had let the fear of what others might do push her so far, ultimately breaking their relationship so irrevocably.

  But then his rational mind reasserted itself, and he sighed. He knew why. The reason never changed. Just because it wasn’t a good one didn't mean it wasn’t the truth.

  Still, today would mark a significant shift. Although he had never confronted her about her actions, Orion had maintained his distance, making this outing the first time they would spend a substantial amount of time together that didn’t involve him asking questions about a potion or a spell he was working on.

  He’d given up on having a normal relationship with any parent, regardless of the world, and his broken trust might never be restored. However, considering his future intentions, perhaps attempting to bridge some of the gap wouldn’t be a bad idea.

  Stumbling out of his room still half-asleep, he noticed that Asteria was already dressed and ready, sitting primly at the kitchen table with an open book.

  She smiled at him with her usual hesitation. “Good morning, Orion. I've booked our carriage for half an hour from now. Do you think you could make it?”

  Again, he was struck by the urge to reach over and shake her, to break the awkward tension. But the reasons behind it wouldn’t disappear just because he willed it, and so he didn’t. “Give me ten minutes and I’ll be ready,” he said instead, ducking into the bathroom.

  Washing up was relatively simple when hot water was readily available. The Sanctum lacked plumbing, which had confused him for quite some time, but he eventually figured out that there was a small runic sequence below the faucet, which allowed for the summoning and mixing of hot and cold water, all powered by the ambient mana.

  It was a comfortable luxury, yet Orion wondered how many others could afford such a thing. He doubted it was a common feature outside the Sanctum.

  He slapped his face with cold water and shook himself out of his funk. Going to sleep so late always made him contemplative the next day, but he needed to be ready.

  I’ll likely only get a few tries with the glasses—once when we arrive and more before we leave. I need to make them count.

  Hurrying back to his room, he quickly dressed in a relaxed, yet smart fit—not that his mother ever bought him anything less elegant than collared shirts and pleated slacks—and threw on his favorite cloak, the one he had decorated with his first attempts at an Attention Diversion enchantment.

  It wouldn’t make him invisible, but in a crowd, it was nearly as effective. People’s eyes simply slid off him, allowing him to go about his business without drawing attention.

  With his luminous purple eyes, shock-white hair, and disgustingly pretty face, he was quite noticeable, especially outside the Sanctum.

  He placed his new glasses on the bridge of his nose, nodded to himself, and stepped out of his room. “I’m ready.”

  The scrape of a chair signaled that Asteria was coming, and she only paused to grab her coat before following him out of their apartment.

  It was only a little later, as they walked down the stairs to the stables, that she stopped, having finally looked at him. Orion turned, surprised by her reaction, and saw her biting her lips, clearly trying to suppress a smile.

  He arched an eyebrow, encouraging her to speak, but she simply shook her head and kept walking without another word.

  I have a feeling she’s taken the glasses as a fashion statement of some kind.

  The ride to Silverpeak was as stunning as ever, yet Orion was familiar with it by now, so he quickly realized that something was different this time.

  A long line of people stretched beyond the southern gate, and what appeared to be a tent city had been established outside its walls.

  “What the hell?” He murmured, drawing his mother’s attention.

  Asteria took a look and pursed her lips. “It has gotten worse, then.”

  Orion tilted his head toward her, meeting her gaze. “Are those people all escaping from the fighting between the elves and the necromancers? There should be many other places to go before they come here.”

  “I doubt it’s war refugees, but it might very well be economic ones. Which means things have gotten worse.” She said, and they started to descend, ending the conversation.

  As always, the rider, Mr. Stone, opened the carriage door for them, bowing as he bid them farewell. “I shall wait for your word, Magistra!”

  Immediately, Orion noticed a different atmosphere. The soldiers guarding the landing zone appeared tense, as if anticipating trouble, although they still saluted sharply when Asteria and Orion walked past.

  The market district didn’t seem to have suffered much from the tension, as people still went about their day with the same cheer he’d noticed the first time he’d come. However, a cursory look was enough to tell Orion that the merchandise being sold was more limited.

  Oh, there were still many pretty baubles, from enchanted ropes that could tie themselves to sturdy pots and pans sold by a dwarf merchant, but it was clear that the war taking place almost a thousand miles southeast was having an effect. No elven goods could be seen, despite once having made up a good third of the available stock.

  “Are their supply lines so stretched that they cannot trade anymore?” He asked, pulling Asteria back into the conversation.

  “I suspect it’s more a matter of choice.” She finally replied after a moment. “Elves aren’t humans. They behave differently than we do when faced with the same problems. The Greenwood’s Enclave is powerful; this level of fighting wouldn’t be enough to weaken them so much. No, there has probably been an edict from their Elders to stop contact with outsiders, which means no more trade except for what little can filter through the border town.”

  Indeed, the ingredients offered were far more centered on local selections, interspersed with a few new items that Orion believed originated from the north. This was a notable shift from his previous visit a few weeks prior.

  “But then why would there be such a line of people outside the town?” He asked. If the elves weren’t so stretched that they needed to flee their lands, who was asking for asylum?

  “Those were humans,” Asteria replied grimly. “The people who lived off trade with the Pantry, whose livestock ate their grain and whose goods were sold to the merchants passing through. They are the ones whose lives have been destroyed.”

  She fell silent at that, clearly deep in thought, and Orion nearly forgot to observe the most interesting people.

  His eyes roamed the market, searching for someone to test, until they fell upon a lone elf, seemingly content, sitting next to a fountain and eating some bread.

  It felt quite strange to see someone so carefree, considering what he knew about the situation outside. But perhaps it wasn’t as odd as it seemed. It’s not like humans would behave much differently. People are resilient; they can adapt to most circumstances, and it’s possible this elf isn’t even from the Greenwood Enclave. There must be others in the wider world.

  Elves always exuded an air of otherworldliness, a quality that combined beauty and terror, rendering them both alluring and unsettling. Orion suspected this arose from a failure in pattern recognition to classify them as humans. They had features that were just a bit too perfect, their eyes too cat-like, and their expressions slightly off.

  “Inspect.” He murmured.

  [Mothon - Lv. ??] [?? - B-Rank]

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