Chapter 530
Phantom’s messed-up state happened because of the special collection of weapons, the armory, that was sent out. Rattan has been working on these weapons for years. The last five years has been full of tricky politics and secret plans, and Rattan was right in the middle of it.
Everyone important was watching Rattan. With years passing by, it was hard for them to hide their distaste for Rattan’s plan to help the Ratmen so there was no way they would have let the weapons he crafted get to the ratmen, especially with all the secret tricks Rattan had built into them.
This is where Phantom, whose very essence was cursed with the ironically revealing moniker "Spotlight Phantom," proved invaluable. His unparalleled ability to remain hidden, to vanish into the periphery, was his greatest asset. To ensure Rattan’s grand design came to fruition, Phantom had unhesitatingly offered himself, sacrificing portions of his own being.
These fragments were then woven into the armor and weapons’ hidden mechanisms. This was how Rattan managed to get his products approved despite the intense surveillance. No one suspected the true power hidden within.
Even now, Phantom was feeling the rewards of his sacrifice. Golden threads, shimmering with energy, were already lacing through the empty spaces into his smoky body, slowly but surely healing him.
Phantom eagerly awaited the full benefits once the ratmen charged into battle. He envisioned countless ambitions igniting and more performers for the stage he has planned for Rattan.
Rattan’s fingers brushed the shimmering surface of the crystalline cube, and with a faint hum, it seemed to melt into his touch, shrinking until it was no larger than a pebble. He slipped the now miniature object into a hidden pocket within the folds of his dark, unassuming robe. Outside, the muffled murmurs of a waiting crowd hinted at the anticipation building for his appearance, for the words and confirmation only he could provide.
In a swift, almost imperceptible motion, the plain robe he wore dissolved, replaced by the rich, embroidered fabrics of a master mage’s vestments. It was a transformation Rattan had perfected over years, a seamless shift into the persona expected of him. A faint, almost unconscious smile touched his lips—a familiar expression he’d adopted, a mask of calm confidence that settled comfortably upon his features.
He laid a hand on the cool, polished wood of the door, pushing it open to reveal a long, torch-lit corridor. His footsteps echoed softly as he walked, the silence of the hallway a stark contrast to the lively sounds that drew him onward. He paused at another door, from behind which spilled the unmistakable sounds of laughter and playful teasing. A genuine warmth spread across Rattan’s face, his practiced smile giving way to an honest one.
Pushing open the door, he stepped into the room, his eyes twinkling. "What’s the joke I’m missing out on?" he asked, his voice light.
"Nixbolt!" A chorus of voices, rich with the tones of young adulthood, erupted, a mix of genuine surprise and delighted recognition. The room, a comfortable space filled with well-worn textbooks, glowing magical apparatus, and empty teacups, was indeed bustling with imperial goblin mages. Their expressions, ranging from studious concentration to lively debate, instantly brightened at his presence.
A particularly lanky goblin, with spectacles perched on his nose and ink smudged on his cheek, grinned. "Just trying to decipher the true meaning of ’mana depletion," he quipped, a twinkle in his eye. A smaller, energetic female goblin with bright green eyes and a braid woven with silver charms elbowed him playfully. "He means he tried to turn my tea into a newt again, and failed spectacularly!" she announced, to a fresh burst of laughter.