Genius Warlock-Chapter 16

Joseph's sausage factory basement.

Among the rooms in the basement, the room called the studio was truly unbalanced.

It was like a slum where luxury cars were built.

Why?

The studio itself is shabby, while the work tools, flasks, calves, hoses, dryers, distillators, and other iron tools, were well managed and shiny.

Well, it was obvious.

Oliver and other junior disciples cleaned it twice a day every morning and evening, whether there was work or not.

"Okay, it's starting to boil!"

One of the intermediate disciples shouted in front of a large distiller.

Of course, water was boiling under the distiller, and just above the water was full of herbs in a net.

It's a kind of groundwork to permeate emotions

The distiller grew hotter and hotter, and a small amount of water began to drip along the long tube.

It could be said hot just by looking at it, and Oliver never took his eyes off it, while working, sitting on the floor, and observing production.

The voice of an intermediate disciple was heard.

"Don't spill a thing and collect it properly. Master gave us permission to participate in the production. Do it properly."

The job of junior disciples was to tear up cigarettes bought on the market and put them in one barrel.

It was an annoying task, but not a difficult task.

Pick up a white cigarette, cut the piece of paper with a knife, and then take out the tobacco leaves inside and put it in one container.

Oliver did this without much difficulty, and he could do it without looking at it.

Oliver once again observed the work of the intermediate disciples.

When the distilled liquid in the tube collected to some extent, they took the barrel and began pouring the distillate through the hose in front of a round flask larger than a man's head.

At the same time, they added the extracted emotions in another lid of the round flask, mixed the distillate with the emotions, and started boiling it.

Then, with…..TAP

Oliver grabbed his head.

As Oliver turned his head, the intermediate disciple, who had been overseeing the work of the junior disciple shouted looking at Oliver.

"Focus on your work! Stop glancing like a thief!!"

In fact, it was a little unfair.

Oliver may have been peeping, but he wasn't negligent in his work.

However, the intermediate disciple stared at Oliver as if he didn't care and shouted again, and Oliver soon bowed his head and apologized, and immersed himself in the work.

This was Oliver’s secret to surviving in the Mine and Orphanage.

But the problem happened elsewhere.

Several junior disciples, including Peter, looked at the intermediate disciple with discontent.

It was as if asking how can a person who doesn’t have skills like Oliver treat him like that just because he was below him in rank.

To be honest, it was not wrong, but the intermediate disciple felt tremendous anger at the eyes of the junior disciples looking at him and distorted his face thinking at the fact that the mere junior disciple had the nerve to look at him like that.

"What the hell?! What the hell with those eyes! huh!"

Peter and the other junior disciples shook their heads and tore up the cigarette again and threw the cover of the cigarette in the barrel.

The intermediate disciple grabbed Peter by his collar, thinking that he had been ignored.

The intermediate disciple was irritated at the situation where the inferior junior disciples who never dared to make eye contact with him, now looked at him with discontent.

The intermediate disciple raised his fist to show Peter his place, but….

At that moment, someone grabbed the intermediate disciples' arm.

"…! Who the f*ck dare to… Huh? Master?"

The intermediate disciple opened his mouth and eyes wide as if he had seen a lion.

Joseph asked, looking at the intermediate disciple.

"What are you doing?"

“Ah.. Master, these guys dared to ignore my order and tried to attack…"

"What?… How dare a low-level disciple try to attack an intermediate disciple?"

When questioned by Joseph, Peter and other junior students shook their heads.

"No, Master. It was Sir who slapped Oliver on the head."

"Really? Why did you hit him?"

"Master, it's… he kept looking over there, and I was telling him to focus on his work."

"Hmmm…"

Joseph placed his hand on the chin and thought for a while.

"Did Oliver ever slack off in his work?"

"Ah, that's…"

"If not, let him be. They were willing to work for the family after finishing all their work. If they didn’t slack off, don’t fret about it."

Joseph said generously like a wise man.

In fact, some of the junior disciples were moved by this kindness, while forgetting the fact that it was Joseph who created this hierarchical culture.

"Let's see. You look a little tired, go outside and rest for a while."

The intermediate disciple said with a confused expression.

"Oh, no, I’m fine. Master."

"No, you look tired to me, Come on."

The intermediate disciple tried to deny it again, but he went out like a puppy whining, at Joseph's angry eyes.

There was an awkward silence in the studio.

"What are you doing? WORK."

RUSTLE RUSTLE.

The junior disciples resumed work at Joseph's words.

Oliver, who decided that the situation had improved to some extent, turned his head again and peeped at the process of producing Pilgaret.

Of course, he didn’t stop his hands, which kept working like a machine in auto-pilot mode.

“Are you curious?” asked Joseph looking at Oliver.

“Huh?”

“Do you want to know why we take the distillate and mix it with emotion over there in the flask?”

“Um, yes Master… I'm curious.”

"To mix emotions better with water. That distillation is extracted by boiling a drug called [solu] with several herbs, and it acts as a solution that permeates emotions better than just water. After the distillate is drained, it is mixed with the emotions in that round flask."

Oliver listened to Joseph’s explanation while staring at the huge flask.

"When it gets mixed, it's heated and brewed again. The amount gets reduced, but the quality is even higher."

Oliver’s eyes followed Joseph's finger that was pointing to a spinning flask tube and a secondary distillation liquid dripping from the end.

The liquid in the huge distiller moved into a bucket and then into a cup.

"Bring the cigarette barrel,"

Oliver followed Joseph with a barrel filled with cigarette covers.

When Oliver went inside, he saw senior disciples who were using black magic in the distilled liquid that had finished the second purification.

“This is the last step. It's a step that uses black magic based on obsession to completely unite emotions and distillate. At this step, the actual quality is determined."

Oliver felt difficult to understand the words, but it felt easy to understand while looking with his eyes.

Emotions that were still moving separately in the distilled liquid spread rapidly after the black magic processing stage, and then completely mixed with the distilled liquid and turned into a lump of emotion.

Of course, this weakened the density, but the drug increased exponentially, and Joseph spread the cigarette from the barrel Oliver had brought in a wide tray, similar to an oven tin, and poured the finished distillate.

"You can soak it in a cigarette like this, ripen it for a few hours, and put it in the dryer over there. Then, the Pilgaret is done."

Joseph said, pointing to a dryer that looked like a concrete mixer.

Just in time, a finished batch of Pilgaret came out, and one of the intermediate disciples carefully moved it and placed it on a workbench.

There were other intermediate disciples in front of the workbench.

They carefully weighed the Pilgaret using a scale, carefully placed them in the mold, pulled the lever, and started filling it in the empty filter-made cigarettes.

The cigarettes thus made were piled up like mountains on one side, while the rest of the disciples filled the empty cigarette packs with 20 pilgarets.

Joseph picked up a cigarette and said,

"This is what Pilgaret is. It's no different from cigarettes on the outside. No one knows unless they do a close analysis. Usually, a piece sells for 100,000 grand. It's 2 million per pack. They usually sell between 50 and 100 packs a week. What do you think?"

Joseph stretched the Pilgaret he was holding to Oliver and Oliver took it in his hands.

Through the paper wrapped around the cigarette, Oliver could see dew-like maternal love, and he instinctively knew that if he inhaled it, he could feel that emotion indirectly.

Oliver instinctively wanted to have it.

There was no reason.

It was just a primal desire.

When Oliver's eyes were blazing with greed, Joseph snatched Pilgaret from Oliver’s hands.

"Ugh…"

Oliver exclaimed without realizing it.

“There are three types of Pilgarets in total. Sedation based on motherhood or love, indirect pleasure based on sexual pleasure or drug-induced pleasure, and stimulants based on anger or hatred… How is it, is it fun?"

Oliver replied flatteringly.

“Yes, it's fun, Master.”

“Nice. So if you're asked to join us right now, can you do it?”

Joseph's sudden question made both the intermediate and senior disciples who were working turn in their direction.

Oliver replied as usual.

"Yes,"

Oliver looked at the surroundings.

The entire room which became silent was filled with various emotions of wariness and hatred.

However, the heavy silence in the room got broken by the huge bang-a-door knock.

Joseph smiled and asked, looking at the door.

“What's the matter?”

“Master. Someone came from the pharmacist’s place. They finally found out about the guys who attacked us."

⏩ ⏩ ⏩ ⏩ ⏩ ⏩

"No, what the hell happened with our family discipline?"

"I know. Did you all see the Master explain the work to that guy? F*ck."

"He even asked him if he'd like to do it himself. F*ck. It took me 7 years to get to the studio."

"Yeah, this isn't fair."

In a corner of the basement where no one enters, Senior disciples and some intermediate disciples gathered and complained to each other.

Today, they were the ones who benefited more from the Joseph family than anyone else, but ironically, they discussed injustice and equity.

Well, maybe it's not that weird.

They made some kind of contributions and came up to the place they were in a legitimate way, and Oliver's pace of growth was intimidating.

He became a junior disciple less than ten days after he entered, and was even given a chance to be an intermediate disciple.

However, their real dissatisfaction was not really equity.

The real complaint is that their positions are threatened.

The culture of a warlock who seeks power and establishes ranks based on their strengths has ironically changed to a form of preserving their place by killing the talented subordinates as soon as possible, and Oliver was now a direct threat to them.

Everyone didn't admit it, but everyone knew.

Oliver's talent is unrivaled.

Now, it is barely suppressed by class differences, but if it is left as it is, there will be a time when it can no longer be checked by class alone, and then it will be for them to get pushed out of their positions.

Before they knew it, everyone’s eyes turned to Andrew.

Joseph's most trusted disciple, the second-in-command of the family, and their de-facto leader.

A senior disciple and a colleague asked Andrew cautiously.

"Are we going to leave him alone? At this rate, everything we've built will be in vain."

Andrew thought quietly and opened his mouth.

"……. Don't rush.”

“But”

“Master is watching him now. We're the ones who’ll die if we get caught after moving clumsily. We're still weaker than Master.”

“Well?”

“Let's wait for the right time. This is a busy time, so if we wait, there will be a time when no one can doubt it. You know, I'm lucky.”

No one denied that.

Andrew was lucky.

He was talented as a Warlock, but he easily became a disciple thanks to a series of talented superiors fleeing from the family.

On top of that, he had his own subtlety and craftiness.

Andrew said convincingly.

"If we wait patiently, the time will surely come."

As if it was a sign, suddenly, an intermediate disciple came and informed Andrew that the master had called.

Andrew got up, picked up his coat, and left.

He reassured the same faction once again before leaving.

"Wait, there'll definitely be a chance."

Then Andrew went through the ant-cave hallway and arrived at Joseph's room.

When he knocked on the door, he heard a call to come in, and when he entered, Joseph had just finished talking to the person sent by the pharmacist.

"Here you are?"

"Yes. What's the matter, Master?"

"The pharmacist said to have identified the man who attacked us. Well, it seems the guy wants to eat this whole Wineham.”

"What? Who's that fearless b*stard, Master?"

“It's WIZARDS."

"…What?"

Andrew asked again, questioning his ears.

"Wizard. Wizard from the Tower. They seem to have come here with some Landa's scoundrels."

"Wizard is here…? Is that possible? Aren't they doing well in Landa? Plus, there is the Tower."

"Well, I can't believe it yet, but considering the expensive scrolls and the pharmacist's information, I guess we have to believe it. There are rumors that Wizards are also struggling because of fierce competition these days."

"Then?"

"If our opponent is Wizards, things might get messier. Full-fledged Wizards are like living weapons. Maybe it's hard to deal with just the force of the pharmacist.”

"Then, are we going to help the pharmacist?"

"Yes, it's our enemy anyway, so we'd better work together and eradicate them before the other flies come in and the situation gets twisted… Anthony and the Dominic family also decided to help."

Andrew nodded knowing the meaning – Things seemed to have gotten bigger than he thought.

“Then…should I also have to join the battle?”

“I guess so. Do you have any complaints?”

“No, I don't, Master. That's what I was hoping for.”

Andrew told the lie as if it was true.

"I'm glad you're willing to accept it. I wouldn’t worry if it's you, I'll give you plenty of people to support. Take 2 fellow senior disciples, 4 intermediate disciples, and 6 junior disciples. That should be safe."

At that moment a flash of thought passed like a lightning in Andrew's head.

Yes, the opportunity has already come.

"Master. May I ask you a little favor?”

"What is it?"

"May I pick the people who will join the support team?"

Andrew thought of Oliver and said so.

As expected, he was lucky.