Warlock of the Magus World (WN)-Chapter 1170

Feast

“Maybe… Maybe Priest Rockefeller had an emergency…” Doron tried to defend his stance, but that didn’t last long under Mitch’s bantering gaze. “Alright alright! Let’s head to the bar, I’ll pay…”

Once they arrived at the tavern, Doron and Mitch ordered some liquor and sat side by side, enjoying this flavour they didn’t normally get to taste— even this cheap liquor was extravagant for the likes of them.

The bar was evidently a place where information flowed. An unending stream of news entered Doron’s ears from all sides.

“All the wizards are finished… Hévíz, Arundel, and the city of Minaret; there were waves of wizards perishing everywhere…” a burly red-nosed man said. He looked like a mercenary, his voice so loud that it dropped dust from the tavern’s ceiling.

”Hey Red-nose! Didn’t you come back from outside a short while ago? Is there any news?” The world had no lack of curious people. A scrawny figure made a hand-gesture to the bartender, having him place a large cup of honey liquor in front of the red-nosed mercenary.

”Hehe… Whose news is more accurate than mine? My reputation is no joke…”

The mercenaries around the man began to mutter as he got to the point.

”The world outside is a mess right now. All the churches and soldiers are retreating, they’ve lost the ability to suppress the chaos. The wizards suffered the worst consequences…

“Losing their magic, those lofty mages are ordinary people like us, or even weaker…” Red nose chugged down a large cup of alcohol, and his whole face became red. ”Think about it… Just by getting rid of an shivering old man would allow them to obtain everything of theirs… Beautiful slaves, fertile lands, huge gems and bright dazzling gold… All the commoners are going crazy, and even some aristocrats fell out with the wizards while thinking of how to take action…”

Power begets power, and influence begets wealth. The wealth of the powerful wizards of the prime material plane would definitely attract the jealousy of others.

Those who could use magic were high and mighty, enjoying the best treatment no matter where they went. Wizards no longer had magic with the Weave broken apart, and with no power anymore they were just fat sheep attracting greedy gazes.

Even the wizards who paid attention to their reputations had slaves, and they’d indoubtably rely on their power to bully them. Given the chance, those with ulterior motives kicked off a vandalous rebellion.

Once it was confirmed that the wizards had no power to resist, the aristocrats were the first ones to take action. They roused the masses into fighting the wizards. The peasants could take away the trinkets, but important assets like land and property would eventually fall into their hands. They could send their troops out at a later date, pressuring the mobs into giving up what they’d plundered.

All aristocrats were skilled at maintaining personable appearances on the outside, hiding a bellyful of evil tricks that allowed them to gain the greatest benefits with little effort.

Without any more power, the wizards could only sob as their families, their riches, and their lands were taken away. They themselves would suffer horrible punishments before death.

“Hey Red nose! Are you sure those wizards have lost their powers?” a burly man in a black cloak asked. He had a large scar on his face, and standing up he was two heads taller than average.

“Of course… It’s just that I arrived late, else I would definitely be able to snatch those gems or even women full of life back… those wizards are all rich…” Red-nose patted his chest in assurance.

“If that’s the case, what are we waiting for?” the imposing man laughed maliciously, “Isn’t there still a Lord Holdman outside town?”

……

*Whoosh!* The cold winds caused Doron to shiver. He found that he’d unknowingly made his way to the house of the only wizard in town, Holdman. There were many people surrounding the residence, cursing loudly as sounds of things being smashed could be heard.

He looked upon himself in surprise, realising he was holding a sharp wooden stick that were stained with traces of blood. Several parts of his body were hurting, but he was unaware of how he was injured. Luckily he only had minor injuries, just some scraping of the skin.

He was still dazed by the alcohol, and it took him a while to remember what he’d done under the influence.

Affected by greed, they’d all fallen to become common thugs. Led by the burly man and the red-nosed mercenary, they’d arrived at Holdman’s mansion outside town quickly. They broke through the building, merrily acting out their roles.

“Blegh…” He couldn’t endure it anymore as he saw the corpse fallen at his feet, kneeling on the floor to vomit as he cried.

“Oh God… What have I exactly done…” He looked at the mob around him as he cried, seeing some of them even burning torches. This conduct was in stark contrast to the words of Ilmater, almost making him feel like a devil had invaded his body.

“Everyone take a look…” A man with a red beard and bright mottled clothes threw out a white-haired old man to the tune of applause. The old man’s hands were like firewood, and he was hugging his head while his body shivered. It took Doron a lot of effort to connect this to that insufferably arrogant Holdman.

“This is the old fella… Not only did he instigate the noblemen to construct a wizard tower, he even wantonly looted our wealth and manpower… Take a look at this…” Red nose point towards the opened granary. Fragrant wheat filled the entire place, “We’re all starving, and this old man hoards so much food and wealth through cruel exploitation…”

Those with wealth were what the mobs hated the most in time of famine. More and more eyes turned red as the mercenary spoke, and even Doron seemed to remember Holdman’s butler kicking him and taking away some good wood from his home. Anger surged to his head.

“Kill him!” “Kill him!” “Kill him!” Numerous thugs cheered, their voices getting louder and louder. In contrast, Holdman seemed to have seen something as he struggled to climb towards a youth’s corpse and started crying.

Sadly, his death throes couldn’t wake up the thugs who were intoxicated with rage. Doron managed to clear his mind as he saw that weeping face, but then he saw Mitch climb out of a temporary tent as he buckled his belt. He gave him a glance any man would understand.

“This is a noble lady! Don’t you feel like playing?” he asked.

A memory instantly emerged within Doron’s mind. He’d once been summoned by Holdman to repair the furniture in his house, and he’d seen a beautiful noble lady in there. She’d been dressed in white, looking like an angel.

Of course he hadn’t been paid for the job, and the dirty look in her eyes had etched itself into Doron’s mind. He’d been deeply hurt, and was even depressed for a long time.

As if the devils felt that the stimulation was insufficient, two white jade legs with elegant curves stretched out of the tent. The purple daffodil on the toenails constantly aroused Doron’s brain, and he couldn’t help but release a bestial roar as he rushed forth…

……

Mystra’s fall was only an opening. What was important was the destruction of the Weave. Wizards may have been the most hurt by its loss, but the gods had lost its convenience as well. The energy it took them to bestow divine spells increased greatly, making it impossible for them to cater to their worshippers as they came up with retreat strategies. This only exacerbated the corruption and the attacks on the wizards.

There hadn’t been much centralised power in the World of Gods before, and a part of its management had been left to the churches. With the churches losing faith and authority, the power of the mobs was extremely terrifying.

Wizards without magic were just like guns without bullets. Other than those with enough scrolls and supplements or legendary wizards who’d managed to break away from the Weave, everyone suffered the calamity. The aristocrats pushed the simmering anger of the commoners into boiling point, laughing in secret as they toasted their new harvest.

When the riots ended, these mobs would only be executed or reduced to their previous, poor state. The nobles would take the greatest wealth, and almost every noble with power would gain something from this…

However, an epidemic hit the prime material at that exact time. The raging laughter was replaced by deathly wails, becoming the theme of the world.

Some said the Goddess of Plagues was hatching a scheme, others that this was a curse cast by the dead wizards. The only thing that stayed true? With the plague spreading continuously, the population of the prime material plane was dropping quick!