The Devil's Cage

The secretion of saliva in Kieran's mouth started to quicken uncontrollably. He turned his gaze towards the direction where the aromatic scent was coming from, which was coincidentally in the same direction they had been heading.

"Smell it? The reason Smith set his research lab on the edge of the campus—other than because he dislikes noisy environments—was because of his research. This smell is too aromatic. I would crash into his research lab and find out what it is every time I come here, but…"

Eiderburgh sighed with a shaking head as he drove.

Without a doubt, Eiderburgh had never succeeded even once, but Kieran didn't care about his attempts. His attention was wholly captivated by the smell.

The aromatic, fruity scent had a faint sense of meat roasting, which, although very weak, was still present.

"Fruit and roast meat?" Kieran thought in his heart.

"I bet you'll get along with Smith since neither of you is much of a talker." Eiderburgh couldn't help but shrug upon seeing that Kieran had no intention of replying to him, and he drove faster after being ignored.

He was driving for free, and later, he would have to pay six months' worth of his salary as cost, so he was in melancholy.

If he had a choice, he would never want to see Kieran again.

Instinctively, Eiderburgh took out his pipe, but he didn't light it up. He did not light it until both of them reached the entrance of Smith's research lab.

"We are here."

Eiderburgh got off the car and walked towards the gate with an iron fence.

Through the iron fence, Kieran could make out a large area of plantation inside. There were common vegetables, grains, and some other plants that he didn't know. In the middle of the farm was a two-story wooden house, and a large canine stood at the door.

The canine had an astoundingly imposing manner as if a tiger was crawling there.

Kieran couldn't tell apart some of the crops there and likewise the large canine of a special breed.

"Hey, Bolt, is Smith up?"

Eiderburgh greeted the large, intimidating canine, but the canine didn't care about Eiderburgh. Instead, it stared only at Kieran.

Its eyes showed a heavy sense of alarm, but also a little bit of fear.

Moments later, the canine known as Bolt walked over and opened the gate from the inside. Throughout the entire process, its vigilance toward Kieran was at an all-time high.

"The instinct of an animal?" Kieran talked to himself.

He had kept away most of his fearsome aura, so although he was like an average person in human's eyes, animals saw him differently, especially this canine of a special breed.

"You are really some trouble, eh, even Bolt noticed you."

"Don't worry, Bolt. He is just here to borrow the High Receiver. I'll take him away when we finish." Eiderburgh smiled at Kieran before he explained to Bolt.

Either the explanation worked, or Kieran's reserved state lowered down the alarms because Bolt shuddered and wagged its tail before it went back in front of the wooden house to continue its rest.

"Come on, then."

Eiderburgh signaled by pouting his mouth at the wooden house before carefully walking across the path; he was afraid that he might destroy the sprouted crops beside his feet with a careless step.

Kieran, who treaded close behind Eiderburgh, sized up the wooden house. He could tell the aromatic smell was coming from inside the wooden house.

"The crops outside are all to cover for us?" Kieran wondered.

Theorate was a magical place that housed great and unimaginable food, but the danger that it contained was apparent as well.

It was natural for Smith, a native, to be cautious, and the large canine Bolt's reaction was the best proof. As Kieran walked past Bolt, he took a glance at the canine, but the only response he got was unfriendly growls and sharp teeth.

Kieran wisely walked faster; he didn't want to cause unwanted trouble with this kind of timing.

Eiderburgh pushed open the wooden door and called out loudly with his sonorous voice, "Smith! Smith!"

Gak Tss, Gak Tss.

Amid the squeaking sound of the wooden stairs, a man walked down slowly.

The man wasn't that tall, at most a standard grown man height, but was extremely buff. It was like a wall was descending when he walked down the stairs.

The loose bib pants and shirt on his body were tightened to their limits, but what caught Kieran's attention more was the man's image: bald, one-eyed, and crippled.

One of his hands held a walking staff, and the other held a big leather container. Judging from the smell from the container, Kieran was sure it kept alcohol of high percentage, and judging from the noise from the shaking, there was only half left of what it had initially contained.

Eiderburgh frowned, "You are drinking in the morning again? Nevermind. This is 2567, the First Seat of this year, and he wants to borrow your High Receiver. I'll pay the cost." Eiderburgh pouted helplessly before introducing Kieran.

Smith didn't care at all; he didn't even look at Kieran.

"Pay up," Smith's voice was rough, and a little bit blurry, whether it was his natural voice or because of the alcohol, Kieran did not know.

Eiderburgh took out a wrapped up paper bag and gave it to Smith. Smith took it, but he didn't even check it before throwing it on the sofa beside him.

"Follow me."

Smith turned around into the deeper part of the first floor, walked through a narrow, long corridor, pushed the door at the end, and revealed a strange chair before Kieran.

The chair seemed to be made of rock, the back and arms had green vines all over them, and despite it being taken care of, it looked like something taken from an ancient ruin.

"Mystic State?" Kieran suddenly thought of something.

"Sit down, hold the Inheritance Crystal in your hand," said Smith.

Kieran didn't act upon told: he walked around the chair, inspected it carefully, and after he made sure there wasn't any danger or threat, he sat down under Smith's rather impatient gaze.

"The process will last around 1 to 3 hours, and it'll sting a little."

Smith then uncorked his container and poured a drop of alcohol on the floor.

Pak!

When the drop of alcohol touched the wooden floor, Kieran sharply sensed that an unknown presence had appeared, but before he could search for it, his sight was replaced by a multitude of images.

He had seen the images before in the attic last night. The phantom showed similar scenes and pictures to him, but unlike the previous one, what Kieran was witnessing now was much more detailed and authentic, as if it was his own experience.

However, his powerful Spirit attribute told him clearly that everything before his eyes was purely imagery.

He was watching the chef's life as if he was watching a movie.

Then…

…

After pouring the drop of alcohol on the floor, Smith closed the door and returned to the living room with Eiderburgh. He leaned his walking staff beside and sat on the sofa.

"How is it?" Eiderburgh sat on the chair without being courteous and asking.

Smith looked at Eiderburgh with his blurry eyes. He didn't answer; he only uncorked his container and took a few gulps of the alcohol inside.

Gulp, Gulp.

An unusual flush appeared on Smith's face. He hugged his container, leaned back in the sofa, and looked towards the sun outside the window—he mumbled a few times and further shrunk his body into the couch.

But moments later, Smith sat up and looked towards the room at the end of the corridor.

A scorching aura appeared from behind the door. It was rumbling relentlessly like a magma monster was roaring.

The heat in the wooden house rose rapidly.

Soon, the dried wood around the house almost reached its burning point.

Smith quickly uncorked his container once again and poured a drop of alcohol on the floor.

The temperature of the whole wooden house returned to normal right away, as if nothing had happened.

But Smith was different. His blurry eyes showed a sharp glare as if the glare was a katana that sliced through the thick mist. One dare not even look into his scalp-numbing eyes.

"Whose Inheritance Crystal does he have in there?" Smith asked.

"The legendary piece from E Block cafeteria." Eiderburgh crossed his arms and smiled at Smith.

He was looking forward to Smith's reaction.

"The Flaming Devil?" Smith frowned.

"That is a wrongful title given to him by the people. He is really an amazing chef. I prefer to call him the Flaming Redemption!" Eiderburgh said with a serious look.

"Redemption?"

"Rather than asking redemption from others, might as well save oneself!"

Smith coldly grunted before he leaned back into the sofa again.

"How is it?" Eiderburgh asked again when he saw Smith's reaction.

This time, Smith didn't stay silent. After another glance at the room at the end of the corridor, he slowly said, "Average."

"Only average?" Eiderburgh asked, dripping with dissatisfaction.

In his point of view, Kieran was good enough!

He might be the best freshman this year… no, in the past decade!

Whether it was his strength, brains, or even that calm attitude, his qualities surpassed those of all his peers. He even outshone some of the Elite teachers.

"Em, he is just average," Smith nodded seriously.

"Then, he doesn't stand a chance?" Eiderburgh didn't give up. He looked at Smith seriously.

"No," Smith said before he shrunk his body again.

Eiderburgh glared at Smith because of the evasive reaction, but before he could scold or anything else, the Head Chef simply gave up.

Sigh!

Another sigh later, he leaned back on his chair and stayed quiet also.

Seconds turned into minutes, and minutes turned into an hour.

An hour flew just like that, but the room at the end of the corridor gave away no sign of movement.

Two hours, three hours…

When the maximum time limit reached, Eiderburgh jumped up from his chair.

"What happened? Shouldn't it be the three hours the longest?" Eiderburgh asked loudly with a sense of worry.

Regardless of Kieran's potential or as Head Chef of Theorate, Eiderburgh wished for nothing to happen to Kieran, even more so because it was him who brought Kieran here.

"Good stuff. Longer time means the crystal he got matches him more. I stand corrected. He isn't just average, he's decent." Smith sat up again. His eyes were fairly shocked and glued to the door.

"Then, does he have a chance…"

"No!"

Smith's comment delighted Eiderburgh. He wanted to rekindle the old flame, but he was stopped right away without any courtesy.

Eiderburgh pouted and stayed quiet. He waited patiently.

The fourth and fifth hours passed by too.

Soon enough, it had gone from sunrise to sunset, and even the evening glory began to shine into the wooden house. Eiderburgh's shadow was elongated. His usually stern face showed worry.

Smith didn't fall back to the sofa anymore; his eyes were utterly astounded like never before.

It had been 10 hours since then!

Smith had never heard of or witnessed such a long inheritance time.

Even those with the best of talents lasted around 4 hours!

Now, over twice that time had passed, and it was still going…

"Are you sure that Inheritance Crystal is damaged?" Smith asked.

"I am sure! I am not as professional as you, but I am certain about that." Eiderburgh said, confidently.

"So will he have a chance now?"

Eiderburgh looked at Smith with an anticipating look, but Smith still shook his head.

"NO!" Smith said affirmatively.

"Why?!" Don't you want a great heir? Are you planning to soak in your past until you die?" Eiderburgh questioned Smith through his roars.

You don't have a decent heir? Nevermind that–I'll find one for you.

Now I've got one, but you say no?

The helplessness set off Eiderburgh, who had been holding his temper, right away. He grabbed Smith by the collar and dragged him up from the sofa.

Grrrrr!

But before Eiderburgh could do anything, a low, angry growl came from behind him.

Cold killer intents mixed with hunger froze Eiderburgh on the spot, like a pail of cold water had been poured down onto his head.

"Bolt," Smith berated.

Killer intents replaced the soft whimper with a sense of delicacy that previously sounded.

Eiderburgh let Smith down and sat on the floor, panting heavily.

Huuhaaa, huuhaaa.

"I'm sorry. I really do want a great heir, if possible, but… he is too good," Smith said.

"Too good? What do you mean?"

Smith looked at Eiderburgh apologetically, but he didn't say anything.

Or rather, he couldn't say anything!

Smith leaned back on the sofa after uncorking his container for a gulp. He looked outside the window at the darkened sky, gazing at the bright stars as the coldness in his eyes faded off.

When his eyes covered in blurriness again, something finally happened in the room at the end of the corridor.

Dang, Dang Dang.

The old clock in the living room rang a few times.

The hands on the clock had completed a full cycle—it had been 12 hours since then.