Chapter Four: Robes of Misfortune
Count Visak Fairmuth had never entertained the idea of sending a warm-blanketed maiden for Felix. This famed "Spectacled Viper" knew very well that sending a naïve boy with no experience in the pleasures of the bed would please Lady Elizabeth more than sending a seasoned doll skilled in every way. Count Visak believed that the clever and cunning Lady Elizabeth would certainly be moved by his "sincerity."
—And thus began Felix Fairmuth's little tragedy.
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"How did you find me?!" A magnetic, husky female voice came from beneath the blinds. The black cloak gradually revealed its presence, and a pair of flawless hands illuminated by the moonlight made Felix's heart skip a beat.
The woman still hid herself within the voluminous black cloak. All that could be clearly seen were her pale purple eyes and those delicate hands, which resembled perfect works of art.
"Your scent," Felix admitted without hesitation. He touched his nose and casually said, "I'm an exceptional lecher, able to remember the scent of any beautiful woman I've ever encountered. While becoming a true lecher may still be far off for me, I'm continually striving toward that goal."
Felix noticed a slight curve in the woman's pale purple eyes and felt somewhat reassured. He was glad that his slightly clumsy self-deprecation had earned him the woman's understanding. Intuition told him that this mysterious night elf was extraordinary, and if she wanted to take his life, he probably wouldn't even realize it!
"Your fragrance is unique, unlike any I've encountered before. It's more like a natural, pleasant body scent." As Felix noticed the sudden appearance of a dagger in those flawless hands, he realized he had said the wrong thing again.
Her pale purple eyes swept over Felix, who wore a humble smile. The night elf hidden beneath the black cloak gave him a playful once-over with her eyes, and in a voice that sounded like the raspy caress of soft metal, she said, "You're smart, but not strong enough."
"Strength is a process; even a saint needs to accumulate sufficient devotion and faith to become powerful," Felix bowed respectfully, submitting to the mysterious night elf before him. In the face of true power, fragile pride is pale and futile.
"Your wisdom makes me overlook your age." The pale purple eyes stared at Felix, as if trying to pierce his body and gaze deeply into his soul. Perhaps only now did she realize that standing before her was merely a boy who had just turned fourteen.
The woman concealed within the black cloak finally gave up her seemingly futile scrutiny and sighed, "Child, you've chosen a path fraught with thorns and blood."
"Madam, isn't what a child should do is to find a path of their own?" Felix raised his eyebrows and replied.
The woman hidden under the black robe fell silent. She watched Felix with an odd gaze, her pale purple eyes slightly curved, bearing a hint of a smile. "Truly an interesting child."
"My name has been lost to time, but you may call me Hera, Lady Hera."
"You have something I want; in return, you will have my friendship," the mysterious woman slowly removed her cloak, her pale purple eyes fixated on Felix as the corners of her mouth curled slightly.
"Madam, I value your friendship," Felix suppressed his inner shock and bowed his head deeply, offering his humility and respect in exchange for the favor of a legend…
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Felix and the mysterious night elf reached an intriguing agreement, one buried and nurtured by the cover of night…
Watching the enigmatic woman who dared to don the Robes of Misfortune leave, Felix touched his cheek and sighed, "Is it because of my appearance that these women go soft?"
"It seems that the heavens really have gifted me a handsome face," Felix drained the red wine in his crystal glass, his clenched fists trembling slightly. The concessions gained through 'beauty' made him feel humiliated. He yearned for power, yearned to grow…
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Artifacts that have fallen into the mortal realm are rare. Apart from the Pope's Staff and the Patriarch's Crown, another artifact often mentioned in epics is known as the Robes of Shadows. Of course, most people have forgotten its original name, instead commonly calling it the Robes of Misfortune!
A skin cursed by demons!
The Robes of Misfortune are devourers of shadow; under the cover of darkness, they can hide any elemental fluctuations. It is an artifact of assassins; those who wear it can even silently assassinate gods!
It's worth noting some background information about the world's structure here.
Without much pomp and intricacy, people measure everything by the value of currency, just as they use the terms Silver and Gold realms to distinguish the strength of the powerful. Similarly, for species, the minimalists still use this measurement.
First and foremost are the Gold species, the legendary beings: dragons, angels, demons, and powerful beings hidden in the abyss and unknown dimensions. The Gold species are extremely rare and powerful. Even in the Abyss, Hell, and Heaven, they stand at the top of the pyramid. They are known as—servants of the gods.
"Silver Species" are quite common, among which the more famous ones are the "Immortal Species", also known as the dark creatures in people's mouths, such as vampires, werewolves, and dark wizards.
In addition to the rank species, there are many subspecies, such as the "Golden Subspecies," half-angels, half-demons, lower-level dragons, and all less powerful abyssal creatures. Elves and giants with diluted bloodlines are collectively referred to by people as "Silver Subspecies." Of course, the range of "Silver Subspecies" is so broad that it is impossible to enumerate with pen and ink.
About eight hundred years ago, shortly after the Shadow Queen Christie became a deity, a powerful arcanist once again opened the prison door to "Hell." He hunted down a terrible demon, sealed its soul within a shell, and stripped off its skin.
This powerful arcanist handed the shell containing the demon's soul to his friend, an equally powerful shadow alchemist, and thus two artifacts were born in this world - the "Robe of Misfortune" and the "Golden Puppet."
There have been a total of 13 recorded masters of the "Robe of Misfortune," and 13 is a very unlucky number, so the owners of the "Robe of Misfortune" all died tragically. The last recorded owner was Karnarong Titans, the father of the current Emperor of the Empire, the Emperor of the Titans Empire twenty years ago. His final fate was to be captured by the Titans Empire and hanged on the cross at "Bloody Valley" Salma, his bones picked clean by vultures.
A woman who dares to put on the "Robe of Misfortune" and fears nothing is already enough for Felix to look up to and revere.
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Felix opened the door to his room and saw a group of knights lying on the ground, unconscious. The air was filled with an intoxicating fragrance, and he covered his nose, whispering, "Disperse, wind."
Felix used a bucket of water to wake up the knights and ignored their embarrassed expressions. He walked slowly into his room and fell into deep meditation.
He needed power...