The gallery walls, draped with exquisite red tapestries, displayed rows of magic paintings created by wizards of the Illusion School.
The figures and landscapes within these paintings—some even in motion—were mesmerizing.
For instance, in one portrait of an elegant and dignified wizard lady, the stern gaze of the female wizard shifted subtly with Locke's movements.
Her eyes remained furrowed, as if troubled by some unspoken matter.
When Locke stepped back to distance himself from the painting, the wizard lady's pupils dilated slightly, as though her gaze never left him.
"I've heard that magic paintings by Speed Painters possess many unique functions. I never had much exposure to them before, but seeing them now, the rumors certainly hold true," Locke murmured under his breath.
Speed Painter was a specialized wizard profession under the Illusion School's magical branch.
It was said that the most skilled Speed Painters could even imprison real souls within their magic paintings, enabling the depicted figures to attack enemies.
However, such mastery required profound expertise in the Illusion School's Spells—at least at the level of a Formal Wizard.
The owner of this gallery was undoubtedly far from reaching such heights.
"Ah, a visitor? My apologies—please wait a moment. I'm in the final stages of completing a commissioned magic painting. Just one last step—a gentle sweep with a fan brush dipped in linseed oil to blend the scenery with the ambient light."
A young man's voice echoed from the depths of the gallery.
About three minutes later, a long-haired, introspective-looking male wizard emerged, his bangs covering his eyes. He hurried over and stood beside Locke.
The Speed Painter, Eragabalus, glanced at Locke, who was still studying the wizard lady's painting, and smiled.
"You find that painting captivating too, don't you, stranger?"
"It's one of my finest works—completed after a year and a month of labor. Flawless from every angle, without a single imperfection."
A trace of melancholy and nostalgia flickered in Eragabalus' shadowed eyes.
"This is a portrait of my first wife. After she failed to break through to the Formal Wizard rank, she developed a persistent fever that plagued her body intermittently. No matter how I tried, I couldn't cure her. In the end, I could only watch her slip away."
"On her deathbed, she begged me to preserve her beauty and wisdom forever in this world through a magic painting. So, I painted her at her most radiant."
"This is one of the purposes of magic paintings—to help others immortalize their finest selves. Even for wizards, there are things lost to time that can never be reclaimed."
Eragabalus snapped his fingers. As he whispered an incantation, a shimmer of magical light fell upon the painting. Instantly, the two-dimensional portrait of the wizard lady projected into the air, transforming into a three-dimensional image.
Moreover, even as a three-dimensional portrait, it still felt like gazing at someone else—those beautiful eyes remained firmly fixed on the two figures within the gallery.
Locke recognized this as the 0.5-ring cantrip model [Illusion Projection] from the Illusion School.
The essence of the Magic Painting was still illusion.
However, as a Wizard who had never encountered Magic Paintings before, Locke couldn't immediately grasp how this one had been created or the intricate principles behind it.
After all, it wasn't his field.
But as someone who had come to invite a Speed Painter, all he needed to know was that the Speed Painter could indeed help him map out the Curse Formula Research Institute—perhaps even create a Magic Painting map. That was enough.
Eragabalus, noticing that Locke had been standing with his back to him, offered a slight apology: "My apologies, guest. I kept you waiting earlier."
"When I get absorbed in my work, I tend to lose track of priorities."
"Might I ask what brings you here? How can I assist you?"
Locke turned to face Eragabalus.
The man had long hair and wore a specially tailored black Wizard robe, adorned with heavy metal accessories—most notably a thick, ornate gold necklace around his neck, its centerpiece a fist-sized emerald.
Each of his ten fingers bore a different gold ring, each embedded with various gemstones.
The man was decked out in jewelry from head to toe. Though male, his demeanor was decidedly androgynous—he even wore eyeliner.
Locke turned fully and said to Eragabalus, "Experiencing intermittent bouts of fever throughout your body?"
"That's a classic symptom of elemental structural imbalance!"
As both a Potionology Assistant and a staff member at the Healing Hand Clinic, Locke quickly offered his diagnosis. "It must have happened when attempting a forced breakthrough to become a Formal Wizard. For some unknown reason, it disrupted the elemental balance between your wife's body and soul."
"As a result, her physical and spiritual forms could no longer sustain themselves, leading to a slow decline toward death."
"This is a rare phenomenon—even in Potionology, it's an exceptionally uncommon case. I've only encountered one such instance in the records of the Healing Hand Clinic at Lilith's Cottage."
"Ordinary magical experiments rarely cause the elemental structure of an object to destabilize like this," Locke sighed. "It's a textbook Wizard's ailment. Outside of extremely dangerous magical experiments, natural environments seldom produce conditions extreme enough to disrupt the elemental balance of a normal entity."
Locke continued, "This condition may require Magic Potions crafted by Potionology Masters. Alternatively, a Triangle of Power Potion—brewed from [Volcanic Core], [Extreme Ice Heart], and [Storm Lung]—might work. External elemental infusion could forcibly stabilize your wife's bodily structure."
"But it's hard to say. This is just my theoretical assumption. The situation could worsen, potentially shortening her lifespan further."
Locke added helplessly, "Under normal circumstances, it's nearly impossible to disrupt the elemental composition of a living being—even in combat, such an occurrence is exceedingly rare."
"The required energy level is simply too immense."
"Your wife's condition is also quite rare."
Locke fell into deep thought. So, a wizard apprentice's breakthrough to becoming a Formal Wizard was a highly perilous endeavor.
Witch Sophia often reminded him as well—if he could reach 800 in mental power as soon as possible, he should do so, as it seemed to significantly reduce the risks involved in the breakthrough to Formal Wizard.
Speed Painter Eragabalus was momentarily stunned.
Then, his gaze shifted to the badge on Locke's chest. Upon spotting the Potionology Assistant Badge and the Excellent Apprentice Badge among them, Eragabalus smiled in sudden understanding.
"So, esteemed guest, you are a Potionology Master. No wonder you recognized it at a glance. Back then, I consulted many healers before her condition was finally diagnosed."
Eragabalus was somewhat surprised by Locke's sharpness. "You only heard me describe my wife's symptoms once."
(End of Chapter)