Chapter Seventeen: A Gift Beyond the Extraordinary

When Andy awoke, he found Catherine fussing over the ornamental fish in the room. Realizing he was awake, Catherine sprang out of the bathtub and snapped irritably at Andy, “What are you staring at? I wasn’t thinking of eating them.”

Andy was about to laugh when a sharp pain shot through his back. Yesterday, he’d been so tightly wound that he’d barely felt the wound, but after a night’s rest, the pain from the torn muscles had become all too clear. His laughter died in his throat, replaced by a hiss of pain.

He changed the dressing on his wound, and at Catherine’s urging, shuffled to the kitchen. Soon, fresh toast, a vegetable salad, and hot milk were set out on the table.

“Are you sure you don’t want some cat food?” Andy teased as he poured milk for Catherine.

“Drop dead! Meow!”

She seemed in much better spirits than yesterday, and while Andy ate his breakfast, he chatted with her in a desultory fashion.

Catherine, the black cat, could only speak with Andy freely when she used the “mimicry” spell—a level-zero wizardry that allowed an apprentice to imitate the voices of others, be they people or different species. Its mechanism was the same as Andy’s own spells—“listening,” “concealment,” and “lightfoot”—each requiring a constant drain of magical power while active. When Andy had learned these spells, he hadn’t even considered the issue of mana consumption.

So Catherine would converse with Andy using “mimicry” until her mana ran out, then settle into meditation to recover. It was as if she were afraid to be left alone with her thoughts, clinging to conversation with Andy as if it were a lifeline.

During their talk, Andy gleaned two important pieces of information. The first concerned Mentor Stein—Catherine had seen him cough up blood, suggesting something seriously wrong with his health. The second was about Bill: Catherine had witnessed him using the “Prague Answering Chair” to boost his mental power. According to her, after enduring hundreds of electric shocks, Bill had advanced from a medium-level apprentice to a high-level one.

Andy asked her why she hadn’t tried to use the “Prague Answering Chair” to improve her own mental power. Her answer left him speechless—she was afraid of the pain. A fine and powerful reason, to be sure. But Catherine hadn’t given up on the opportunity altogether; she’d been waiting for Mentor Stein to return so she could ask him for a potion to numb the pain first.

This news thrilled Andy. Since arriving in this world, he’d meditated daily, but the results were barely perceptible—he’d never felt his mental power grow at all. No wonder he was rated as having the most mediocre third-tier talent. Now, hearing there might be hope for real progress, his eyes shone with longing.

At one point, Catherine asked how he’d managed to cast spells so frequently the day before. Andy bluffed, telling her he’d awakened the soul talent “Fountain of Magic.” According to Stein’s library, the “Fountain of Magic” was a talent wizards dreamed of, greatly increasing both mana reserves and recovery speed—similar to Andy’s seemingly endless spellcasting. Of course, it was still a far cry from Andy’s true “infinite firepower” buff. But as both Andy and Catherine were novices in sorcery, neither pressed the point.

Once again, Catherine depleted her mana and began to meditate. But this time, Andy waited and waited, and still she didn’t move. Growing anxious, he gently prodded her—only for her to leap up as if he’d stepped on her tail (which, in her case, he almost had).

“Hurry, the crystal ball! Give me the crystal ball for testing mental power!” Catherine’s voice was taut with excitement and anxiety.

...

Staring at the orange glow blooming in the crystal ball, Catherine and Andy were both speechless.

“Were you already close to the threshold, and just happened to break through while meditating?” Andy speculated.

“No way, not even close. I’ve only been a low-level apprentice for about half a year. With my second-tier talent, there’s no way I could advance so fast, and I haven’t sat in that electric chair to force my mental power up.”

“Then it must be another reason—your mental power and your familiar’s have fused to produce a result greater than the sum of their parts,” Andy suggested, remembering his own experience.

Catherine scoffed at this. What nonsense! How could a low-level apprentice’s mental power plus a cat’s equal that of an intermediate apprentice? Wasn’t that giving cats a bit too much credit?

Andy, with his Earth-born imagination, proposed several other possibilities: an emotional shock triggered a breakthrough; the cat was secretly a divine beast; Catherine was the reincarnation of a great wizard; perhaps the cat had recently eaten some celestial treasure...

Catherine felt thoroughly bewildered by Andy’s wild theories. Yet still, she clung to a glimmer of hope and pressed the talent-testing chart to her brow.

The sight of the little cat clutching the talent chart with both front paws was so comical that Andy nearly laughed—until he saw the results. The indicator on the chart shot upward: third-tier... second-tier... first-tier... then “superior.” Andy’s heart skipped a beat. “Superior” meant a peerless genius for magic—there wasn’t one in all of Elan in recent years.

Before he could finish marveling, the indicator shot past “superior” and kept climbing—until it reached the end of the chart, which promptly exploded with a snap. Catherine let out a terrified yowl.

For comparison’s sake, Andy risked sneaking out and, with his expert concealment, managed to “borrow” three cats from nearby homes. He named them Snowy, Patches, and Spotty. Testing each with his own talent chart, he found none of them even registered as third-tier.

That ruled out the possibility that cats as a species were more suited to magic than humans. Clearly, Catherine was a unique prodigy.

The result left Catherine ecstatic, and she demanded a celebratory feast—which, to her mind, meant: “To hell with vegetable salad, this fabulous cat wants fish!”

Andy had no choice but to show off his culinary skills, frying fish for all four cats until they were stuffed, and then returning Snowy, Patches, and Spotty to their homes.

After seeing the cats home, Andy didn’t return immediately. He needed to gather information. The events of last night had made a splash, so it wasn’t hard to hear the aftermath.

Just as he’d expected, the city lord’s mansion had pinned all the blame on Andy, issuing proclamations that Andy Charles had colluded with enemy spies to murder several guests at the Phillips Manor ball. He was now the city’s most wanted man, with a hefty reward for information leading to his capture, and anyone caught sheltering him would be charged with treason. Bill and Jera, missing since yesterday, were also wanted as his accomplices.

Andy suspected the authorities had learned of Mentor Stein’s illness. Their brazen actions made him fear that Stein’s condition was even worse than Catherine let on. But Andy was in no position to help his mentor now.

After last night’s events, Andy’s desire to grow stronger burned brighter than ever. He was already close to mastering the first-level spell “Flame Arrow,” and with a bit more study, he could become a mid-level apprentice. That would give him a real offensive spell, and combined with his “infinite firepower,” his combat ability would soar.

But Catherine’s description of the “Prague Answering Chair” tempted him. If he could raise his mental power to the level of a high apprentice, constructing first-level spell models would be a breeze. He could learn several to diversify his arsenal, and maybe even attempt a second-level spell and advance to high apprentice, which would transform his combat prowess entirely.

The thought set his heart ablaze. Like a ghost, he slipped toward the wizard’s tower.

What he found there only deepened his gloom. City guards were still patrolling in force. After some discreet inquiries, he learned that when Knight McCann had led an assault on Phillips Manor, Edward Collin had led another team to surround the wizard’s tower. The place had been stripped of anything valuable.

Unwilling to give up, Andy risked sneaking inside. What he found made his heart sink as though trampled by a thousand alpacas. The tower was an empty shell—even the magical crystals used for lighting had been pried from the ceiling. The carpets, furniture, books, experimental equipment—all gone. Including his target, the “Prague Answering Chair.”

Dejected, Andy returned to Catherine’s house—only to discover that city guards were now searching the neighborhood house by house in squads. It wouldn’t be long before they reached Catherine’s home.

He hurried inside and told Catherine what he’d seen. It was a serious matter, but Andy couldn’t help his lips twitching as he spoke—guess what he’d caught sight of upon returning? Was that a ball of yarn Catherine was hiding behind her back? When he finally burst out laughing, she angrily hurled the yarn at him.

Jokes aside, they needed to plan for the imminent search. If the guards discovered them during the day, escape would be far harder than at night. With the city’s forces surrounding them, even nine lives wouldn’t save Andy.

“We need to leave,” Catherine said suddenly. “But first, we have to bury her.”

“Uh...who?”

“Me!” Catherine pointed toward the basement. “We can’t drag a corpse around with us, and we can’t leave it here for the guards to find. Besides, it’s useless now.”

“How can it be useless? As long as we keep it, there’s still a chance you could regain your body.”

“And then what? Go back to being a second-tier apprentice, struggling at the bottom of the wizard world? Don’t you think this cat’s body is a gift from the heavens? If I ever get the chance to stand above the masses, what does it matter if I’m a cat?”

Andy fell silent for a long time before replying, “You have a point. But that’s not something a child would normally say.” As he spoke, he bent down to pat her on the head.

“Bastard! Don’t touch my head!” Catherine threatened, raising her paw fiercely—then, out of mana, she reverted to meowing.

Andy quickly buried the body in the basement, carefully smoothing the earth so no trace remained. He also concealed Old Brown’s grave until there was no sign of disturbance. Satisfied, he tucked Catherine into his coat and left.

Throughout the process, Catherine paced nearby. She watched with a deep, mournful gaze, occasionally letting out soft, plaintive meows—like a strange, haunting song.

A song of farewell, of sorrow; of remembrance, of confusion; of longing, and of hope.