Witch Monastery
Chapter 385: Become My Patron!
The next morning.
As much as she wanted to linger, duty called for both of them. So, after breakfast, Anno climbed reluctantly out of Charles’s bed and left for Blackstaff Tower in her carriage.
After seeing her off, Charles returned to the monastery, planning to head to the scriptorium for another session of magic study. But just as he opened the door, a flash of white teleportation light appeared—and a second later, Vajra materialized before him, her face cold as ice.
Whatever had happened, the archmage was clearly in a foul mood...
Well, at least it probably didn’t have anything to do with me.
With that hopeful thought, Charles quickly bowed his head. "Greetings, Madam Blackstaff. Uh, is there something you need from me today?"
Vajra’s gaze was complicated as she looked at the man before her. Even after all that had happened, her heart was still unsettled.
Whenever Charles entered her view, her mind couldn’t help but conjure flashes of his toned, powerful body, that shockingly thick cock, the fierce athleticism of him as he moved, as if the sheer physicality was burned into her mind...
Her emotions spun out of control. Her heart rate picked up, her breathing grew shallow, and even her generous chest heaved slightly.
Luckily, she managed to compose herself, forcibly banishing those distracting images and pulling her features tight into a mask of dignity. "I’m here on business," she said, voice crisp.
Before he could respond, she continued, "Even if you’re not a member of Blackstaff Tower, you’ve made countless contributions to the city’s safety. So, you’re entitled to a reward."
"There’s no need to stand on ceremony—tell me, what do you want? As long as it’s within my power, I can grant it."
Strangely, as she said this, Vajra’s mind conjured even more vivid images of last night: Charles, naked and sweat-drenched, pounding away atop some beauty. Only this time, the woman gasping beneath him wasn’t Anno—it was Vajra herself!
She averted her gaze, reigning in the chaos of her thoughts, and forced herself back into composure.
Across from her, Charles had no idea of Vajra’s inner turmoil. At the word "reward," his eyes lit up, and he fell into thoughtful silence.
He knew from game experience that Vajra was well-versed in etiquette and social rules, quick to see through deceit. As a mage, she preferred straightforwardness over convoluted pleasantries—she hated wasting time.
So, once she’d offered him this chance, the best approach was to state exactly what he wanted, or else admit he hadn’t decided and ask to keep the favor for later.
But Charles had already made up his mind.
"Madam Vajra." He raised his head. "I’d like to sign a pact with you—make you my patron and share your spellcasting abilities with me."
Hearing this, Vajra couldn’t hide her surprise. "You mean..."
Charles drew a deep breath, locking eyes with the tiefling’s. "Please, become my patron!"
Vajra was startled, but caught on quickly. "Wait, your spellcasting doesn’t come from personal training, but from another entity—you’re a warlock?"
She was surprised, but on reflection, it all made sense. Charles had always shown proficiency in casting but never clung to a spellbook—warlock, indeed.
She felt no prejudice toward warlocks. Spellcasting was like a race; as long as you had a car, you could join the track. Whether you built it yourself (mage), inherited it (warlock), were gifted it by a deity (cleric), received it from nature (druid), or served someone else (warlock), it was your own skill. How far and fast you drove depended on your own talent and effort, not the pedigree of your car.
Those capable of casting spells above third circle were one in a thousand—a rare breed—so there was no looking down on anyone else.
Charles explained, "Yes, Madam Vajra, my bloodline’s undistinguished, I have no natural talent for the arcane arts, and my deity doesn’t bless me with mana. My power isn’t my own, but comes from others’ sharing."
"And the power of my current patron has limits. That’s why I’m stuck and can’t progress any further."
He bowed his head in humility. "I wish to share in your spellcasting abilities, to glimpse higher realms of magic."
Vajra drew a long breath—this request threw her for a loop. She’d never imagined being asked to be another warlock’s patron.
But it wasn’t impossible.
"How high can you cast right now?" she asked.
"Fifth circle," Charles answered instantly. "But I need access to sixth and higher circles to move forward."
He couldn’t help feeling anxious. Sharing magical power wasn’t a small favor—it cost the patron considerably, especially above sixth circle.
Would Vajra agree? And if she did, how much would she grant—sixth, seventh, maybe even eighth circle?
He guessed that seventh might be most likely. Sixth would be too mean; eighth, too draining for her. Seventh was the reasonable middle ground.
That would let him reach level fourteen—enough to break his bottleneck for now.
As for the future... he’d just have to see.
As expected, Vajra couldn’t help face-palming at his request.
Sixth circle and above! That was a huge power drain, a commitment that could permanently impact her own strength.
Being a warlock’s patron—supplying another with spell slots—wasn’t something any regular material plane spellcaster could easily manage.
That’s why every patron in the world was either a true god, an archfey, an archdevil, or one of the primordials. Very rarely, a solar or an elemental lord. Never just a mortal.
Dragons could do it, too, but preferred to pass magic through their bloodlines, siring sorcerers, not warlocks.
No matter how she spun it, the burden was heavy—and Vajra really wanted to refuse.
But looking at Charles’s earnest expression, remembering all he’d accomplished in half a year, she just couldn’t say no.
After all, she was at a bottleneck herself. Maybe one day, he’d even reach the legendary tier and help carry the load.
Maybe, his own journey might even inspire her to break through further.
Resolved, Vajra made her decision.
"I accept. I’ll share my spellcasting abilities with you," she said. "If you work hard and keep training, you’ll be able to reach the absolute peak of mortalkind—yes, even cast 9th-level spells."
Charles’s head snapped up, shock and excitement mixing in his eyes.
No way—ninth circle?!
He’d never expected that. The gap from eighth to ninth was massive—giving access to seventh was already amazing, but ninth?! That was on a whole different level.
Ninth-level spells unlocked at level seventeen, and at eighteen, nineteen, and twenty, there were no new spell circles—just other incremental power-ups.
In other words, until level twenty, he’d never have to worry about a spellcasting bottleneck again!
The realization made him genuinely moved—he looked at Vajra with a newfound, gentle warmth.
I’m not some ungrateful dog, he thought. If you’re willing to give so much to help me now, I’ll repay you a hundredfold in the future!
Vajra continued, "But I can’t give you much mana—I don’t have a supernatural bloodline, nor a limitless pool of magic."
She spoke frankly, unconcerned about being exposed. "So however much mana you have and how many spells you can cast—that’s up to you to figure out."
A pragmatic compromise. Charles wasn’t disappointed at all. "That’s fine! Your generosity is more than enough, Madam Vajra!"
He caught the meaning—he’d have the spellcasting ability, but the mana would be up to him.
But did Charles lack mana? Not even close!
With seven—no, eight, counting the still non-humanoid Xanathar—witches backing him, feeding him endless spell slots, his "mana bar" was just as full as a normal mage, and with meditation, he refilled it in under an hour.
Drag the fight out and he was nearly unlimited!
His only true shortcoming had been spellcasting tier—and now, with Vajra patching that gap, it was a perfect fit.
Seeing Charles still so thrilled, Vajra relaxed, relieved he wasn’t unhappy with her last condition. A warlock who’s grateful and easily satisfied—that’s such a relief.
She said, "This is only a beginning. The rest of your journey is for you alone. But I’m confident you’ll amount to greatness."
Charles exhaled and nodded. "Thank you for your faith—I promise I won’t let you down."
He got to business: "So, who should draft the magical contract, you or me?"
Vajra, naturally, wasn’t interested in wasting time on paperwork. "You can do it. I’ll just review it."
Expected as much, Charles pulled a parchment template from his Bag of Holding, scribbled out a few lines, and handed it over. "Um, honestly, Madam Vajra, I already had a template ready... Can you see if it needs any changes?"
Vajra shot him a brief, surprised look, then laughed. "So you came prepared."
Charles smiled sheepishly. Vajra flipped through the contract, finding the language appropriate and the terms standard—a pure sharing of spellcasting ability, with no obligation to supply mana. She nodded. "Looks good, then..."
Arcane power swirled, spelling out Vajra’s signature in the air, which then landed on both copies of the magical pact.
She handed Charles his copy. Unlike her, he didn’t sign with magic—he solemnly took out a pen and signed his name the old-fashioned way.
The pact was formed.
Instantly, Charles sensed a subtle, unseen link tying him to Vajra. Power began to flow gently along the tether and into his body.
These new gifts weren’t fully integrated yet—it would take some training before he could use them freely.
(Or, put another way, he’d be using his system’s Purification Points to shortcut the process!)
"You can feel it, can’t you?"
Vajra, noticing the slight drain on her power, looked at Charles. He nodded energetically, "Absolutely! Thank you again for your generosity—I feel fantastic!"
Without another word, Vajra waved her hand, and a rift appeared midair. One copy of the pact floated up via Mage Hand, then vanished into the dimensional crack.
Charles recognized the spell: Vajra was using 8th-level "Demiplane"—a pocket world for storing her resources and research, absolutely secure.
He couldn’t help but feel a little amused.
Even someone as brilliant as Vajra hadn’t advanced spell applications like players had. For instance, 8th-level Demiplane was supposed to be devastating in battle, but local mages just used it as a storage locker.
Same for "Simulacrum"—they used the clone as an assistant for chores, rarely, if ever, bringing it into combat...
Well, now he’d arrived.
And once he could cast seventh- and eighth-circle spells himself, perhaps he’d "discover" some new tricks and share them with Vajra—part of his duty as her warlock.
She had no idea he was already planning a big surprise in return.
Dark Angel
~~~
Get early access to 370+ advanced Chapters on Patreon!
patreon.com/PokemonStoryWeaver
~~~