Chapter 40: Beren

Swiftly intoxicated, the gathering promptly escorted Panini to a nearby cottage for repose. Benefiting from years of apprenticeship in the arcane arts, Panini could swiftly replenish his sleep. Thus, his slumber was not prolonged; upon awakening, it was already midnight. He heard a faint rustling sound, only to find a silvery-white tufted ball of fur moving about in his bundle. Sensing Panini's wakefulness, the creature lifted its head, revealing traces of gold dust on its teeth. Panini's eyelids fluttered in surprise as he swiftly snatched the bundle away. Upon inspecting the pouch, he was dismayed to find that a significant portion of the remaining coins had vanished into thin air, leaving behind only a smattering of gold crumbs. Clad in a shimmering silver fur coat, the tiny mouse with its pair of blue eyes blinked innocently at Panini. In its hand was a half-eaten coin bearing tooth marks, exuding an air of purity.

The teeth of the mouse continued to grow throughout its life, necessitating constant gnawing on hard objects for dental maintenance...

It was evident that ordinary wooden items could not satisfy the insatiable appetite of this aberrant rodent with teeth as hard as adamant. Panini had earlier observed that this fellow had a penchant for gnawing on metal objects, from buttons to pocket knives, and even silver and gold coins...

Rearing exotic magical pets was indeed not for the faint-hearted.

Panini Sean could only smile wryly, gently stroking the mouse's head as he attempted to impart some wisdom, "Please refrain from gnawing on these items... Goods in the Northlands are not cheap..."

The mouse emitted a series of squeaks in agreement, but still proceeded to stuff the remaining half of the coin into its mouth. With a series of crunching noises, it swallowed it down.

Its intelligence was not to be underestimated; it understood the principle of avoiding waste.

Panini rolled his eyes and inspected the package again. The coins had diminished by more than a hundred, the pile now several times the size of the mouse's body. He wondered where the mouse's stomach led to, perhaps to another dimension?

"Well then, let's call you Beren," Panini decided, counting the remaining coins and patting the mouse's fur resignedly. He then closed his eyes, engaging in his customary meditation routine upon awakening each day.

Maintaining personal connections within the magical network was crucial; neglecting them could lead to malfunctions, much like an unused computer gradually deteriorating. Acquiring power was no easy feat, and inexplicable demotion was undesirable.

Sometimes, meditation brought unexpected surprises. For instance, Panini currently glimpsed a shimmering curtain of light behind the second layer of the magical network. The sight almost made him jump with excitement, but thankfully, his practiced composure prevailed, restraining him from opening his eyes prematurely, though his heart continued to race.

The ability to cast spells at the third level is the minimum standard for formal members of the Red Robe Mage Society. In the conception of mages, reaching this level of proficiency allows the spellcaster to shed the apprentice label. Now, Panini can rightfully claim himself as a mage.

As for what spells to study, Panini finds himself in a quandary. He lacks readily available spell materials because he did not anticipate advancing so rapidly. However, he is not entirely without recourse. The scrolls he possesses, prepared to deal with the artificer, remain unused. Among them is the third-level abjuration spell "Dispel Magic," which Panini believes is an essential spell to learn. He has decided to dedicate these days to its study. Yet, he also realizes the necessity of preparing an offensive spell. His thoughts turn to the renowned Fireball spell.

In some games of his past life, Fireball was the signature spell of mages. It was considered almost inconceivable for a mage not to cast Fireball. Some organizations even created the mysterious cult of the Five Fireball Gods to express their reverence for the spell. Panini, too, believes that not knowing Fireball as a mage is a regrettable matter.

Moreover, lacking effective offensive spells and harboring mistrust towards the damage capabilities of lower-level spells, Panini's spell selection tends to lean towards control. Fireball is regarded as the hallmark of evocation spells because of its exceptional utility among spells at this level, and it is relatively easy to learn (as are most evocation spells). Panini sees mastering a third-level spell quickly, and studying the Fireball spell seems like a wise choice.

Panini, carrying a scroll of Fireball, ventured outside the village, intending to perform magic—utilizing the scroll to study spells necessitates experiencing the process of spell guidance firsthand. However, as he walked under the moonlight beyond the village, he noticed a familiar figure crouching beneath the canopy of a tree by a small river.

Upon closer inspection, the minstrel appeared rather disreputable, wielding an oil painting brush dipped in colors on a piece of parchment, wholly engrossed in his professional work.

Panini followed the direction indicated by the painting board and indeed spotted a young girl's figure immersed in the flowing river upstream. He furrowed his brow, beginning to assess just how robust a physique was needed to bathe undressed in such frigid environs. Despite having read more in this lifetime than in the last, his eyes inevitably suffered from some myopia. Although his perception compensated for the lack of vision, carefully discerning specific details of a distant object was still somewhat challenging. He glanced at Aniel's canvas, where the girl's bare back exuded tension beneath its rounded contours, suggesting immense energy pulsating beneath her fair skin.

The mist rising from the icy water, stimulated by body warmth, was deftly captured by the minstrel's strokes, enhancing a transcendent beauty.

"Here's some fervor ahead~" Aniel chuckled softly, dabbing a touch of pink ink on the girl's chest, gradually fading from dark to light, instantly infusing the painting with boundless spring hues, bringing the entire oil painting to life. Panini glanced at the girl in the river, then lowered his gaze to Aniel's artwork, feeling a dryness in his mouth and throat.

"See how my art fares?" The minstrel depicted the face of the Holy Warrior with a somewhat trance-like expression, proudly glancing back at the observing mage.

"Not bad! Not bad at all, indeed a professional rascal," Panini nodded approvingly. The sensation was reminiscent of the atmosphere of college dorm room gatherings where buddies discussed adult films, albeit with different subjects and materials.

"In that case, you should show me a little more respect, lad," Aniel glanced askance at Panini. "Don't address me with terms like 'rascal.'"

"Isn't 'rascal' a term of endearment for you?" Panini feigned surprise.

"Forget it, I won't argue with you, kid." Aniel shook his head in resignation, standing up and handing the paintbrush to Panini. "Hold this for me, I need to relieve myself."

"Wait!" Panini took the paintbrush, immediately sensing trouble. He reached out to stop the agile minstrel but couldn't catch up. Just as he was about to flee, he heard an angry voice behind him. "Mr. Sean, how could you engage in such unethical behavior?"

Panini awkwardly turned his head and saw the girl's head emerging from the water, her face flushed as she stared at him. He scratched his head in embarrassment. "Sorry, I just happened to pass by. It was that rascal who was peeping at you."

Without hesitation, he threw the minstrel under the bus, but he wasn't entirely confident. Holding the paintbrush, he stood next to the evidence, caught red-handed. It was a precarious situation, and he doubted that anyone with average intelligence would easily let him off the hook.

But Sera's expression was serene. "I knew it would be like this."

"Do you believe me?" Panini was surprised.

"I know Mr. Stefan is a rogue, while Mr. Sean is a man of noble character," Sera smiled. "So he definitely wouldn't do such a thing."

"That's not necessarily true," Panini muttered, thinking about his reaction just now. Compared to certain renowned gentlemen in the history of the Celestial Empire, surnamed Liu or Mi, he was far from qualified.

"Anyway, I trust Mr. Sean," Sera nodded, clenching her fist. "I will definitely hold Mr. Stefan accountable."

"If he finds out, he'll be in a great mood," Panini smirked maliciously, glancing at Sera, then turned his head. "Are you sure you don't need to put on some clothes?"

Sera glanced down and realized that her movements had dislodged the ice and branches covering her chest, rendering them ineffective. Her face grew even redder. Sensing something was amiss earlier, she had hurriedly come to investigate without donning her armor. Now awakened to her predicament, she quickly swam upstream.

Panini sighed and suddenly heard the sharp cry of the Paladin from upstream. He ran over to see Sera holding a pile of metal armor parts, staring incredulously at a small silver-white furball among them.

Lord Belen seemed completely indifferent to the Paladin's fury. He casually plucked a piece of metal from the armor, popped it into his mouth, and began chewing rhythmically. With each movement, his fur and tail swayed elegantly and calmly. After swallowing the metal piece, he even remembered to spit out the chewed-up lining, all with graceful composure.

Panini was immediately dumbfounded. He hadn't expected his own magical pet to stumble upon this place in search of food. There was no escaping responsibility for this, no matter how hard he tried. He grabbed Belen by the tail, lifting the gluttonous creature up. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't manage my pet properly. This is my fault."

"This... this..." Sera held the tattered armor, tears welling up in her eyes. "This is the battle armor personally bestowed by the Bishop... I..."

"I'm truly sorry," Panini said angrily, grabbing the mouse by the tail and spinning it twice. "Why don't I just slaughter it to avenge your armor?"

"Chirp chirp chirp!" Belen let out a sharp cry, biting Panini's hand. With a cry of pain, Panini let go, and the mouse fell to the ground, darting away into the woods, disappearing from sight. Panini's face grew even darker.

Though Belen had shown mercy, two drops of blood still trickled from Panini's bitten hand, and half of his palm was numb.

"Mr. Sean, it's okay," Sera said, holding the armor and wiping her eyes. "A warrior should never be separated from their armor and sword at any time. Ultimately, it's my fault, and I will learn from this."

Hearing her words, Panini felt even more embarrassed. If the Paladin had been unreasonable, he could have shrugged it off, but her understanding and forgiveness only amplified his guilt.

She had simply been taking a bath, yet he had intruded upon her privacy, and his pet had destroyed her armor. And yet, she still forgave him. Panini felt like an utter beast, even though he had been acting passively.

Meanwhile, the Paladin remained in the water, not emerging, her face seemingly growing even redder.