Witch Training Manual: My Water Magic Is Wrong

The iron gate was covered with sacred symbols.

Over the years, most of the patterns have been blurred by wind and rain, but the core rune circuits are still there, and one can vaguely feel a very thick magical fluctuation.

Wayne reached out and knocked three times on the door.

After a few moments, a heavy metallic scraping sound came from behind the door, as if the bolt had been pulled open from the inside. The iron door opened a crack, revealing a stubble-covered face.

The gatekeeper was a burly man in his forties, broad-shouldered and thick-waisted, his shoulders barely narrower than the door frame. He glanced down at the child standing at the door, and his brows immediately furrowed.

"Little one, this is not a place for you."

The burly man clearly rejected Wayne.

After all, it doesn't seem right for a child to run into the ruins of the old town before dark and find an iron gate hidden under a temple.

Wayne didn't waste any words with him and directly handed over a silver coin.

The burly man's gaze fell on the silver coin, and his expression changed. He looked up and gave Wayne a second glance, his tone clearly showing surprise.

"Are you an awakened one?"

"What else?" Wayne put the silver coin back in his pocket. "Just wandering around here for no reason?"

The big man clicked his tongue, got up, and opened the door.

"Such a small awakener... that's fucking rare. Come in, you won't last long outside alone after dark."

Wayne squeezed through the crack in the door.

The space behind the door was larger than I had imagined. A stone staircase led downwards, with dim, yellowish magic lamps embedded in the walls on both sides. The light wasn't very bright, but the path underfoot was still clearly visible.

After the big man re-bolted the door, he said to Wayne.

"New here? First time coming down?"

Wayne nodded.

"Then you have to register. Turn left after entering, the registration office is at the first fork in the road. You can't get your identity without registering, and you can't stay here without an identity. Don't say I didn't warn you."

Wayne followed the direction the big man pointed. After turning the first fork in the road, he saw a broken wooden table with an old man wearing glasses sitting behind it. A well-worn booklet was spread out on the table.

"Name, age, background."

"Wayne Angus. Twenty-one. Frosttown."

The old man's hand, which was writing, paused.

He looked up, took off his glasses, wiped them, put them back on, and stared at Wayne for several seconds, as if to make sure he wasn't seeing things.

Are you sure you're twenty-one?

Wayne nodded: "I'm sure."

The old man put down his pen, took off his reading glasses, wiped them, put them back on, and stared at Wayne for a long while.

"Young man, although I'm old, my eyesight isn't failing me. You look no more than twelve or thirteen years old, and you're telling me you're twenty-one?"

"Sir, do you think I would have any reason to lie to you?"

The old man didn't reply, then lowered his head and continued writing in the booklet, muttering, "Fine, if you say twenty-one, then it's twenty-one."

He finished writing the last word, closed the booklet, and looked up at Wayne: "Kid, you've only recently come to the city, haven't you?"

Wayne's heart skipped a beat.

"Sir, how did you know?"

"The names of new trial participants will appear on the central stone tablet in the dungeon. Your name just appeared this morning," the old man said, dipping his brush in ink. "This place is so small, news travels fast."

Wayne seized the opportunity to press for more information.

"Are there any other new names on that monument?"

The old man glanced at him.

"What, you have companions?"

"Yes, there are a few."

The old man shook his head slightly: "No. Your name was the only one newly engraved this morning."

Wayne frowned, and the old man suddenly added as if he remembered something: "Oh, right, if you're talking about newcomers, there is a little girl named Ofina. She came in yesterday, but she's quite remarkable."

"What's wrong?"

"I joined the ranks of the divine servants on my very first day. The people there came down to pick me up in person. That's incredible."

Wayne's heart sank.

Ophina had already joined, a day earlier than him. This in itself wasn't a big problem; the problem was that she had joined the "servants of the gods."

"What is a servant of God?"

The old man adjusted his glasses: "The Church of Eternal Slumber. The clergy in that cathedral in the city center claim to serve God and recruit followers from among the awakened. They say they are messengers of God, able to guide those undergoing trials through blood sacrifice to obtain divine gifts. Indeed, quite a few of those who followed them survived the first night."

"How many people believe them?"

"Quite a few." The old man closed the booklet. "After all, the first night is the hardest. If someone is willing to help you, most people will go along."

Just then, it appeared.

[Ofina - Current Status Update]

[Alternate Personality: Awakened. Utilizing her keen sense of divine presence, she immediately located the church area in the city center upon entering the City of Eternal Slumber and proactively contacted the Divine Servant Organization. She has now been formally accepted as an "Apprentice Divine Messenger."]

[Note: Her primary purpose in coming to the City of Eternal Sleep is to search for the relics of the gods. This is not a spur-of-the-moment decision, but part of a long-term plan—she had already been tracking relevant clues before being dragged into this city by the rules.]

[Note 2: The primary personality is currently dormant, and the secondary personality has complete control of the body.]

After looking at the panel, Wayne thought to himself.

As expected, sending mages out of the tower was not that simple.

Furthermore, the old man said that only his and Ophina's names appeared on the monument, which means that the other five people are very likely still asleep.

"Thank you, sir."

Wayne turned and walked inside.

"Wait, young man."

The old man's voice came from behind.

Wayne stopped in his tracks, and saw the old man pull a folded black cloak from under the table and hand it to him.

"Put this on. You look like a child, you'll attract too much attention in the dungeon. The cloak will cover your face and save you from unnecessary trouble."

Wayne took it and unfolded it. The cloak was made of thick fabric, with a few simple concealing runes faintly sewn on the inside. It wasn't anything high-end, but it was enough to cover his face and body outline.

He put on a cloak and pulled the hood down.

"Thank you, sir."

The old man waved his hand and said no more.

After Wayne left, the old man pulled a short pipe from under the table, lit it, took a deep drag, and the smoke slowly dissipated in the dim light.

"Another pitiful soul." He exhaled a puff of white smoke and shook his head. "I hope you survive."

Footsteps came from the other side of the passage.

The burly man guarding the gate came over, took the pipe from the old man, and took a puff.

"What's wrong? Is the old man lamenting about life and death again?"

The burly man finished smoking and handed the pipe back to him.

"In this godforsaken place, people are bound to die. Even if people die, there's still a constant stream of new people coming in."

The old man didn't reply, but just tapped his cigarette ash.

The burly man glanced in the direction where Wayne had disappeared and said, "That kid, though, seems like someone who's not simple."

"Um."

"You mean he's really twenty-one?"

"He said it himself, believe it or not." The old man put away his pipe, closed the booklet, "But that kid has a certain energy about him, unlike ordinary newcomers."

The burly man patted the old man on the shoulder: "Alright, don't worry about it. The blood sacrifice is about to begin. Who knows how many more people will die tonight."