Endless Horde: Through the Eyes of a Godking

--

Gilderoy stood on a stool so that he could see what he was doing...

He held into a paddle and stirred the contents within the massive pitch black cauldron before him over a roaring fire. The liquid inside was viscuous and glowed with a purple sheen; it bubbled away and released puffs of smoke that left a rather nasty smell in the air, yet Gilderoy endured its foulness.

His eyes were focused on his task. He was following an ancient recipe for a poison brew, and he followed it down to the last punctuation mark. So far, everything is going well.

"What in the world..."

A sudden voice interrupted his focus. Gilderoy looked behind and saw the flabbergasted look on his mother's face. Somehow, he felt embarrassed, even though there's technically no reason for him to.

He then greeted her, saying, "Let's be honest, you've seen worse from me."

"Yeah, I do." Chrissy crossed her arms and wore an amused expression. "Man, you're really into this whole witchcraft thing, huh? You even wore the proper costume and all. Don't get me wrong, okay? I love this for you, but honey, that conical hat looks ridiculous on you. It looks like it's going to start talking at any moment now."

"S-Shush!! I just want to get the full experience."

Out of all things, Gilderoy wasn't expecting to be roasted in his fashion sense by his mother today.

Chrissy shook his head and peered at the cauldron from where she was. She then wore a weird look on her face before saying,

"Whatchu makin' there? A disaster?"

"I—" Gilderoy was speechless. He didn't have the mental capacity to deal with his mother's sass right now, to be honest.

"You know what, whatever, just...deal with the aftermath. I swear if that potion makes the entire house smell bad, I will make you clean every single tile with your bare hands." Chrissy sighed before walking out of the room.

However, before she left, she gave him one final look and said:

"You should do the laugh while you're stirring, or else that will blow up."

And she was gone before he could even ask what she meant. As expected, Gilderoy didn't understand what she's trying to say. What laugher was she talking about?

'Ugh, I don't know! Whatever. I don't think that will happen. I followed the recipe perfectly. I should just focus and not ruin this.'

Unwisely of him, he completely disregarded his mother's warning and focused on his rhythmic stirring of the potion, because yes, even this act had to be measured properly since it's important to the end product.

A few minutes later, the anticipated moment came. Gilderoy took out the paddle and went completely still. He stared at the bubbling potion he made that has now turned into a shiny tar somehow.

Gilderoy felt satisfied. He replicated the potion as he expected. Unfortunately, he barely had the time to enjoy his success when, all of a sudden, he felt a strong foreboding sense of danger, causing all the hairs on his body to stand.

He reacted before he even thought about it, retreating several meters away from the cauldron, just in time to escape the unexpected explosion of it.

The entire room buzzed from the impact. Smoke rose to the ceiling, and the explosion caused the defensive measures of the house to kick into motion.

Static flashed through his surroundings; the false background he was using was distorted and deactivated. Runes glowed on the walls and subdued the source of the explosion. Before he knew it, the aftermath of the explosion had been dealt with, and the air was already being purified from the foul smell.

Gilderoy clutched his chest, sighing in relief that he had escaped from the danger. This was then followed by doubts and uncertainty, though.

"How? Why did it blow up? I followed the recipe down to the last punctuation. How did it fail? I don't understand."

Clutching his conical hat in mild frustration, Gilderoy began douting his own skills and intelligence. He did his research, studied his materials, and went through numerous simulations to ensure his success, yet ultimately, he still failed.

He's upset, especially since these past few days, almost everything wasn't going well for him.

It all started after that damn Hell Dive. Just like his brothers, he too was traumatized and vowed to do his best so that he will never experience anything like it in the future.

However, it seems like the world was out to get him because he's stuck just like his brothers. He was at a loss despite having many ideas. It's like somebody hexed him with failure.

Sighing to himself, Gilderoy stood up. He looked at the training room and discovered that the aftermath of his failed attempt has already been cleared up. The foul smell in the air has been taken care of too, so at least he wouldn't be in trouble with his mother.

"Speaking of mother..." Gilderoy's eyes flashed.

Gil hurriedly walked out of the room with the intention of finding her. It wasn't so difficult since he knows where she would be in times like this.

He opened one of the many doors in the sky castle and appeared in a lab. There, he found his mother relaxing on her swivel chair and taking a sip of her tea. She was wearing a lab coat and protective glasses.

Hearing him come in, Chrissy turned to him and saw her son's hesitant appearance. A small smile appeared on his face as she asked:

"It blew up, didn't it?"

"How did you know?" Gilderoy asked in return, walking slowly towards her.

"I told you to do laugh. I'm guessing you didn't. That's why it blew up." Chrissy shrugged on her seat.

"What laugh are you talking about?"

"You know, the witchy laugh—the 'Heeeehihihihihi' thing. That laugh. It's essential to the process."

Gilderoy gave her an 'are you kidding-me?' look.

Chrissy giggled at the semi-frustrated face of her son and said, "I'm not kidding. In fact, you should've known this since you're so determined in following the ancient witchcraft poison brewing methods."

"The 'Witch's Mockery', the laugh, is an integral part of the process; the tune and pitch of the laugh resonate with mana to imbue the concoction with magic, making it similar to vocal spellcasting."

"They just don't throw in a bunch of herbs and spices to a bubbling cauldron and call it day. They're making potions, not soups."

"If they want a certain potion to have a certain effect, they have to invoke it using spells. And spells require sounds and words, young man." Read exclusive adventures at empire

"In fact, a lot of the spells in witchcraft involve chanting and singing. It doesn't matter what shade of witchcraft you're keen on practicing. If you plan on following their ancient traditions, there's no way you can skip this part. How do you now know this? I thought you're reading your books."

Gilderoy was stunned, speechless. He was certainly not expecting this.

Yes, he knew that witchcraft would involve a lot of chanting and singing. But he would've never thought that the laugh, or the so-called 'Witch's Mockery' was required in poison brewing.

And wasn't this embarrassing? He was so confident just now, thinking that he got it all figured out, yet it turns out that he missed something so crucial. He also didn't expect that his mother knew about witchcraft, but in hindsight, he should've known.

Ting!

A sudden alarm shook his out of his thoughts. He watched as his mother stood up from her seat and walked next to the stove. Using her bare and delicate-looking fingers, she fetched the vial with a boiling purple liquid.

She then swirled it a couple of times clockwise, and under Gilderoy's shock, the potion turned into a shiny, tar-like substance that greatly resembled the same poison he was attempting to create.

Whistling a tune, Chrissy moved next to the test subjects, which are engorged rats. She then poured a single drop of the potion into it, and as soon as the liquid touched the rat, the poor thing dissolved in mere seconds, leaving no traces of it behind. It's as if it never existed in the first place.

"Hmm, not bad. Could be better, though." Chrissy shrugged, sounding mildly disappointed about the potion's effects before casually putting it back to the rack.

"How!?" Gilderoy looked heated. He wasn't even aware when approached the table. His mother just made the same poison he's trying to create all without the required equipment for it, so he truly doesn't understand how she did this.

"Well, it's not really that hard. It's just an old poison; nothing too difficult about it."

"But—"

"Honey," Chrissy interrupted him. "You're not an ancient witch."

"..."

"This is no longer the old days of Superhumans. If the ancient witches back then were reborn in this era, they would probably laugh at you for following their flawed and outdated rituals."

"Learning and attempting to re-create their ways is good. By doing that, you're honoring your lineage and acknowledging their existence and sacrifices. What's not good is trapping yourself in that mentality."

"You're of the modern age. A modern man. You have access to things they didn't have back in the day, and modern problems require modern solutions."

"It's as simple as that."