Fire Moon, July 15th.
This was Lyle's eighth day in E-Rantel.
Originally, his plan was simple: restock supplies, upgrade his equipment, and then head straight to the Bahas Empire. But acquiring the scroll-crafting technique had shifted his priorities. For the past several days, nearly all his energy had gone into producing magic scrolls. He even spent a skill point to upgrade his [Papermaking] to Tier 3.
[Skill: Papermaking (Tier 3)]
Mana Cost: 15 MP
Effect: Produces 500 sheets of high-quality magic paper
________
Oddly enough, the second-tier version could produce 700 sheets, but Tier 3 only made 500. However, third-tier scrolls demanded higher quality materials—20 sheets of Tier 3 paper per scroll, just like the second-tier scrolls needed 20 Tier 2 sheets.
Lyle's current mana pool was 28 MP. Lacking a full caster class, he could only regenerate 1 point of mana per hour. That gave him a maximum of 52 MP per day.
Creating a second-tier scroll required 5 MP for the scroll itself and another 20 MP to activate the enchantment [Tier 2: Mana Imprint] and infuse the magic. In total, 25 MP.
A third-tier scroll took 30 MP to complete.
With those constraints, Lyle could only produce about one third-tier and one second-tier scroll per day—at most.
After eight days of relentless effort, today included, Lyle had amassed:
10 Third-Tier [Summon Angel] Scrolls
5 Second-Tier [Summon Angel] Scrolls
"Ten flame archangels should be enough to overwhelm most opponents. The five guardian angels can be used to spread misinformation and bait reactions."
Lyle sat cross-legged on his inn's bed, the stack of 15 scrolls laid neatly before him. His eyes were shadowed from lack of sleep, but they gleamed with grim determination.
"Still not enough. I need a wider margin for error—two more days. I'll craft as many as I can."
With a flick of his hand, the scrolls vanished into his storage box.
For the past several days, Lyle had been following a strict schedule. He calculated every regeneration tick of his mana and immediately put it to use, whether it was day or night. As soon as he had enough MP to work, he crafted a scroll. This obsessive dedication had taken its toll—his darkened eye bags reminded him of the soul-crushing routine of his previous life's office job.
But he had no choice. His mana pool was pitifully small, and every point had to be used wisely.
While the [Magic Swordsman] class he'd taken did provide a small mana increase, Lyle had no plans to level it further—at least not before acquiring the [Cursed Knight] or [Valkyrie] classes. It would be a waste of experience otherwise.
And that was exactly why Lyle had set his sights on one of the hidden enemies within E-Rantel—Khajiit, one of the Twelve Apostles under the secret cult Zurrernorn.
More specifically, the item in Khajiit's possession: the Orb of Death.
This item wasn't just any relic. Its standout features?
It had a unique, independent will—something unheard of in the original YGGDRASIL game.
It could autonomously absorb and store negative energy.
At first, Lyle hadn't given it much thought. In both the anime and light novel, this function wasn't portrayed as particularly important. But now, with the passive skill [Mana Infusion] granted by the Magic Swordsman class, a wild idea struck him.
Could he forcibly inject mana into the Orb of Death using Mana Infusion, converting it into a portable mana storage device?
After all, what is negative energy, really? For undead mages, it was essentially just another type of energy. If the orb could store one kind, maybe it could store another—mana.
If this worked, it would solve one of his biggest bottlenecks: mana recovery.
Neither YGGDRASIL nor this world offered any kind of mana potion. If you wanted more mana, faster recovery, or reduced mana costs, you had only three options: high-level classes, rare magical artifacts, or top-tier pay-to-win items.
And unlike a certain Overlord of Nazarick, Lyle didn't have unlimited wealth to burn.
Otherwise, he wouldn't even consider messing with a group like Zurrernorn.
To normal people, Eight Fingers was already a terrifying criminal organization with influence across the kingdom. But Zurrernorn? That was a doomsday cult that could threaten entire nations.
The organization had only thirteen members: twelve Apostles and their mysterious leader.
Only two of those Apostles had ever been revealed in the source material. One was Khajiit, now hiding in E-Rantel. The other was Clementine, former member of the Holy Kingdom's elite Six Scriptures—specifically the strongest: the Black Scripture. She was also known, half-mockingly, as "The Cackling Clown."
And among the Apostles, three were known to be stronger than her.
As for Khajiit?
He didn't even rank.
Lyle wasn't sure if Clementine had joined Zurrernorn at this point in the timeline. But that was irrelevant for now.
Two more days passed in a blur.
Lyle added another five second-tier scrolls to his inventory. Originally, he'd wanted to focus on crafting third-tier ones, but for the sake of misleading enemies and handling unexpected scenarios, he decided to diversify.
In that time, he almost never left the inn during the day. But under cover of darkness, he secretly disposed of the monster corpses he'd collected in the Forest of Tob, especially the massive black-green serpent, which had taken quite a bit of effort to deal with.
His gold had peaked at 1200 coins but now sat at a modest 600.
Half of that had been used to purchase a magical tool that allowed easier movement in the dark.
Now, night had fallen again.
The magically lit streetlamps—enchanted with perpetual light—had just shut off, plunging the city into deeper darkness as heavy clouds blanketed the sky.
"Awooo…"
A low whine came from the little Barghest perched by the window. Its bone-chain tail gently tapped Lyle's leg, signaling the time.
"…It's time, huh."
Lyle opened his eyes, glancing toward the darkened window. He picked up the black cloak resting beside him and wrapped it tightly around his frame.
Shlick!
A vial appeared in his palm—he drank it in one gulp without hesitation.
"Stay here tonight," he said to the Barghest, waving it off with a tired motion. His voice was hoarse and rough—like a middle-aged man.
A side effect of the potion he'd just downed. It was cheap—only one gold—but could temporarily alter his voice.
"Awoo~…" The hound's eerie green eyes shimmered with disappointment. Its bone-chain tail clinked as it swayed.
Tap.
Lyle was already at the window. With a swift, agile movement, he vaulted over the ledge and landed silently in the shadowed alley below.