Ten days—or rather, nine—passed in the blink of an eye.
During those remaining nine days, no further incidents occurred within the monastery. The nuns were too preoccupied with preparations for the Night of the Witches to spare any attention elsewhere. Thus, Charles, though initially on edge, managed to pass the time without incident.
He hadn’t been idle, either. He continued poring over his spellbooks, determined to master a few more magics before the Night of the Witches arrived—every extra spell was another layer of protection.
It was during this time that he discovered an unexpected boon from his Eldritch Invocations.
Eyes of the Rune Keeper: You can read all writing.
At first, he’d assumed this simply meant he no longer needed to study languages to understand texts—whether common tongues like Elvish and Dwarvish, or rarer scripts like Draconic, Giant, or even Primordial. After all, in the game, that’s precisely what this invocation did.
But he never imagined "read all writing" would extend to the specialized jargon of this world’s academic disciplines!
Now, the abbreviations, sigils, and technical terms scattered across his five spellbooks made perfect sense at a glance. The barriers he’d faced due to the knowledge gap between worlds—his lack of foundational understanding—vanished entirely.
His learning efficiency skyrocketed. In those remaining eight days, he mastered two new cantrips and two 1st-level spells!
A week. Four spells. And not just memorized for rote recitation like ordinary mages, who relied on flipping through their spellbooks mid-battle and could barely cast a thing without them. No—these spells were etched into his mind, ready to be conjured at will, no book required.
All self-taught, no less.
Even by Strixhaven University’s standards, that kind of aptitude would place him among the elite.
Then again, in this world and era, basic education was rudimentary at best. The average person’s self-teaching abilities paled in comparison to those from his modern society in his previous life.
Not that he could discount the "scriptorium’s" contributions, nor the sheer convenience of his "Eyes of the Rune Keeper" invocation.
Of the new cantrips Charles learned, the first was Light—purely for illumination.
The second was Shocking Grasp, an offensive cantrip with no mana cost, near-instant casting, and a paralyzing effect on hit that could neutralize an enemy’s combat strength even if it didn’t kill them outright.
The drawback? This spell requires physical contact—the caster must touch the enemy to channel the violent current into them. A severe limitation.
Charles knows he’s not good at melee combat, so under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t use this spell. Only when a single enemy closes in, making Eldritch Blast impractical, would he resort to it as an emergency measure.
As for the two new 1st-level spells, one is False Life—the protective spell he’d been longing for.
Though it can’t be cast infinitely without consumption, its effects last a full hour, providing formidable protection. At the very least, it’ll give him far more confidence the next time he ventures out.
The other spell he learned is Sleep, a large-area crowd-control spell.
In the early stages, this spell is overpowered—especially in the slums of the South Harbor District. It’s practically a massacre.
The reason? The cramped terrain often forces groups to cluster together, allowing the spell to maximize its effect.
And these gang thugs, no matter how much blood stains their hands, survive purely through brute viciousness and luck. None have undergone systematic training, so they lack any class levels, their magical resistance flat zero.
In combat, enemies tend to swarm in droves—only for the player to drop Sleep and watch them all collapse at once.
Then, the player can leisurely pick off the unconscious foes one by one.
Sure, once players gain a few levels, this spell loses its edge. But right now? It’s an absolute weapon against enemies!
With these two new spells, his confidence for tonight’s operation surges.
"Ten minutes left..."
Glancing at the system’s countdown, then at the sun still hanging in the western sky, Charles feels every muscle trembling with excitement.
The Night of the Witches—though called "night"—doesn’t strictly begin at dusk. Long before nightfall, the moon already rises in the eastern horizon. Most just fail to notice.
This secret is known only to a few. After all, no one in the world can predict the Night of the Witches down to the second like Charles.
Still, for safety’s sake, he ultimately chose not to leave just yet. Though the witches had all departed from the monastery, with Hattie having bid him farewell with a morning kiss before leaving for the deep sea, the previous accidents had left him with what amounted to a psychological shadow. He absolutely had to wait until the twin moons rose together, the world’s veil grew thin, and monsters lost all self-control before venturing out!
Tonight’s events would determine life or death in the days to come. He absolutely couldn’t afford even the slightest mistake!
For this very moment, he’d stayed up past midnight the previous night and slept the entire day today, doing nothing else - all to conserve his strength and prepare for tonight’s operation!
And so, though his heart pounded with both excitement and impatience, he forcibly suppressed his emotions. Wait... just wait...
Time ticked by second after agonizing second until finally, the timer on the system interface reached zero.
In the eastern sky, the pure white moon and azure dark moon appeared simultaneously at the horizon’s edge, both in their complete full moon glory. The discrepancies in celestial movement affected the world’s veil, and suddenly, terrifying magical power from countless other worlds came surging violently into the material world!
In the shadows, master schemers released pleased chuckles.
But Charles noticed none of this. All he saw was the text on his system interface changing from a starting countdown to an ending countdown.
The timer reset from zero to thirteen hours, then began counting down second by second.
He immediately jumped down from his bed, pushed open the door, and stepped out of the monastery alone.
Meanwhile, at Amazon Fisheries Company headquarters, Gale looked sternly at the row of fully armed female warriors standing before her: "Sisters, do you remember our operational plan for tonight?"
"We do!" the female warriors shouted in unison. "Kill!"
"Excellent!" Gale nodded approvingly. "Let’s go make those bastards from Xanathar’s Guild pay in blood!"
In a shadowy corner, two figures clad in black leather trench coats and round-topped hats suddenly spread their arms wide: "Ah, I can feel it - that power!"
"Good, now... let the show begin!"
South Harbor District, Port.
Though autumn had yet to arrive, the evening seaside carried a biting chill. The salt-laced wind sweeping in from the ocean easily stole the warmth from a man’s body.
One-Eye stood on the port’s weathered stone slabs, wrapped in a heavy black trench coat, his gaze fixed on the distant sea. Behind him, several subordinates waited in silence, pushing a wooden four-wheeled cart.
Their employer demanded covert operations, so the bulk of their forces remained hidden in the shadows. Unless raided, they would make no unnecessary commotion.
The port was nearly deserted. Liberl Port City Hall had issued an early warning—tonight was Twin Moons Night. Fishermen had hauled in their nets and returned home early. Despite it being barely evening, not a soul lingered by the docks.
Beyond the distant crash of waves, the coast was eerily quiet. The occasional cry of a seabird only deepened the stillness.
And One-Eye was perfectly content with that.
This environment was ideal—few variables, minimal chance of surprises.
Now, all they had to do was wait for Amazon Fisheries Company’s ship to dock.
Xanathar’s Guild had allies within Amazon Fisheries, hence their ability to smuggle cargo aboard their vessels. Truth be told, all major factions in Liberl Port operated this way—entangled in mutual interests, locked in struggle yet never delivering the killing blow. None could fully eradicate the others.
As One-Eye waited impatiently, another ten minutes passed before a large fishing boat slowly emerged on the horizon and pulled into port.
His expression brightened, but he remained composed. He knew such ships required time for formalities before fully docking, so he forced himself to wait.
Workers at the bow began unloading crates of pungent sea fish for the port inspectors to sample.
Of course, the inspection was purely for show. No one in South Harbor District dared thoroughly search an Amazon ship.
And that was precisely why One-Eye had chosen their vessels for smuggling.
Soon, as dusk fully settled, the perfunctory inspection concluded. A lean Amazon woman approached and flashed One-Eye a coy smile.
"Come along," she said.
He strode forward and embraced her. "Oh, darling, I’ve missed you terribly!"
This was his lover—a rare bond indeed. The Amazons had no men among them. They reproduced by seeking "temporary mates" from other races at a certain age, keeping the daughters and sending the sons back to their fathers.
But exceptions existed. Emotions could take root. And there were always exceptional men who could capture an Amazon woman’s heart, forging lasting partnerships.
"You scoundrel, look at you!" The Amazon woman rolled her eyes but still pressed a light kiss to his lips. "Come on, Crate Seventy-Three is right over there."
One-Eye motioned for his underlings to follow. Soon, they reached the massive crate filled with sea fish.
Having drifted at sea for days without refrigeration or proper salting, the fish now emitted a faint, rotting stench.
"Load it up," One-Eye ordered.
Four underlings stepped forward, grimacing as they endured the foul odor. They gripped the crate’s corners and heaved it onto their cart in unison.
Now, they could leave.
All that remained was to guard against potential robberies along the way. But Commander Kendrz had loaned them a small army—over two hundred thugs. Surely, nothing could go wrong...
Would things really go this smoothly?
Suddenly, a sharp unease gripped One-Eye.
"Empty the fish!" he barked. "Check if the cargo’s still inside!"