The Most Arbitrary Wizard

"As we all know, the First Saintess Olivia was deeply in love with Mr. Blake. A painting she made with her own hands wouldn’t have been given to anyone else."

Kave theorized, "So this ’other Grand Mage’ most likely refers to Mr. Blake..."

Johnson said, "Wait a minute."

"Isn’t it common knowledge that Mr. Blake forced himself on Saintess Olivia, and that she hated his guts?"

Kave: "?"

"Whose side are you on, anyway?"

"That’s the Church Court’s version of history, not ours. When I say ’common knowledge,’ I obviously mean what’s common knowledge in our Holy Sanctuary."

Johnson roared with laughter. "Hahahaha, I know! Just kidding."

"That joke wasn’t funny at all." Eleanor rolled her eyes. ’To think he’d dare make fun of Mr. Blake. He has no sense of propriety.’

"So what do we do now?" asked Ryan, who rarely spoke. "Should we take a detour?"

"A detour?"

"Not a chance." The moment he heard the painting to be displayed at the ball was by the First Saintess, Tony perked right up. He scrambled out of his seat and said excitedly, "That’s a relic of Mr. Blake’s! Do you have any idea what that means?"

"Huh? What does it mean?"

Tony raised his voice. "Money, and glory!"

The others: "?"

They could understand the money part—anything belonging to Mr. Blake was sure to be priceless—but what the hell was this about glory?

Tony snorted. "You guys really don’t get it."

"Let me ask you, isn’t the collection room in Mr. Blake’s villa empty?"

"Aren’t there tons of quests on the church’s mission board to find items from his collection?"

"What does that tell you?"

"It means that to this day, not a single one of Mr. Blake’s valuable possessions has actually been found."

"If we can get our hands on this painting and bring it back, we’ll be the first team to have helped Mr. Blake! So many people have failed, but we’d succeed. What an incredible honor that would be?"

"If Mr. Blake is watching from Heaven, I’m sure he’d be grateful to us."

Sean: "..."

’Wait a second, why are they sending me to Heaven again?’

"I think your focus is on the ’money’ part, isn’t it?" Eleanor said with contempt. "You make it sound so noble, but I don’t see you out there searching for it normally."

Tony was immediately displeased. "What’s that supposed to mean? Do I look like the kind of guy who only cares about money?"

Kave: "You’re not?"

After spending a few days together, they had all gotten to know each other to some extent. If it weren’t for the five hundred million Gold Coin bounty, who would risk their life to assassinate the Saintess?

"Of course not," Tony said, full of confidence. "Adults don’t choose. I don’t just care about money; I want Magic Power too!"

The others: "?"

’So he wants to have his cake and eat it too?’

"Didn’t Kave already find out?" Tony said. "That painting has an inspiring effect on all Wizards below Tier Seven. This is a rare chance to deepen our Meditation with an external aid. Aren’t you tempted?"

The other four were silent. "..."

Of course they were tempted.

Sean was still a little confused. "Did I remember that wrong? I thought Meditation depended entirely on oneself."

This conflicted with his entire understanding of Mysticism.

’In his mind, Meditation was a very ’private’ affair; no one should be able to help anyone else with it.’

"You remember correctly," Kave said. "It’s true that no one can help another person Meditate."

"Except for Mr. Blake."

The founder of their Holy Sanctuary, Mr. Carl Black, was an unprecedented existence beyond Tier Ten. Even most of the fundamental laws of Mysticism were compiled by Mr. Blake leading a host of Scholars. So what if he bent the rules a little?

The saying, "Those who make the rules are often not bound by them," which is often used in politics, applies just as well to the field of Mysticism.

It wasn’t that Mr. Blake was selfishly keeping secrets; rather, those beyond Tier Ten have shed their mortal coil and embarked on the Divine Path. How could the rules of mortals possibly bind the Gods?

Never mind just giving other Wizards a bit of inspiration; in theory, it wouldn’t even be impossible for him to turn a common person into a Grand Mage outright.

Sean felt like he’d really learned something. "Oh."

’So I’m that badass, huh.’

"Okay, how about this," Tony proposed. "We’re a team, so to be fair, let’s vote on whether or not to go to the ball. If the ’yes’ vote doesn’t get a majority, we stick to the original plan and head straight for Pilgrimage City."

As he spoke, he raised his own hand before continuing:

"All in favor of going for it, raise your hands."

After a moment’s hesitation, Kave decided to take the risk.

’In any case, this mission doesn’t have a time limit. If we can gain more Magic Power from this noble’s ball, our chances of successfully infiltrating Hesinra Palace and assassinating the Saintess will be even higher.’

Ryan and Johnson, however, remained silent.

Clearly, they didn’t want any unnecessary complications.

Assassinating the Saintess was already difficult enough. If something went wrong while they were trying to steal the painting, if they were recognized and the enemy was put on alert, they might not even be able to get into the Holy City of the Church Court.

With the vote tied at two to two, the final decision fell to Sean and Eleanor.

Tony and the others all looked at the pair.

"Don’t look at me. I’m fine either way," Eleanor said.

The implication was that she would go with Sean’s decision.

Sean’s thinking was simple: "Let’s go!"

’Of course we have to go.’

Even if the painting had nothing to do with money and glory, he would have found a way to slip into the ball to see it.

Because it was his to begin with.

Now that Kave had told him the painting could enhance one’s Magic Power, there was even more reason to go.

Sean remembered Sopea saying that since Meditation is a spiritual affair, tantamount to a special kind of memory, its effects could be brought out of the "New World." Theoretically, as long as they achieved a breakthrough in the New World, their Magic Power in the Real World would also rise.

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