Starting as Cipher-The Flame-Chaser Identity System(Honkai Star Rail)

Having explained the origins of the Warlock class, it was time to discuss their combat capabilities. Warlocks typically possess no innate Magic Power. Like Priests, who have Grace Value to cast a limited number of Divine Magics daily, Warlocks rely on Contract Value to cast a finite number of Spells.

No incantations or gestures are required—it's as if they simply clap their hands and get what they want. However, there's a delay; it's not instantaneous spellcasting. These Spells are essentially cast on the Warlock's behalf by their Patron, limiting them to Spells their Patron knows.

A Warlock's Contract Value isn't constant. It might be abundant one day and scarce the next, depending entirely on their Patron's mood. On some days, the Patron might be asleep or too lazy to bother, leaving the Warlock unable to cast even a single Spell. On others, a Patron in a generous mood might fixate on a particular Warlock, showering them with Spells at will.

At first glance, Priests seem like employees of a well-established corporation with clear regulations and benefits like the Five Insurances and One Fund. Warlocks, on the other hand, resemble workers at a small, unregulated company—their pay uncertain, their boss prone to exploitation, and quitting isn't an option.

In any case, the Black-Robed Man was most likely addressing his 'Patron,' or more accurately, his 'Lord.'

If that were true, the fact that they could communicate directly indicated the Lord highly valued this Warlock, implying the Warlock possessed considerable power.

Throughout the journey, Cipher watched the Black-Robed Man mutter and curse to himself like someone with split personalities, constantly rambling and ranting.

Soon, guided by the Black-Robed Man, they arrived at an immensely spacious hall. The first thing Cipher noticed were twelve black jade pillars, each entwined with gilded dragon reliefs—Western dragons, not Eastern ones.

The pillars were evenly spaced throughout the hall. Between them, a crimson-and-gold carpet stretched from the entrance straight to the throne, a solid gold masterpiece lavishly encrusted with countless blue crystals, radiating opulent decadence.

This was hardly surprising. Viscount Braun, the former City Lord of Stone Pine City, had embezzled ten thousand gold dragons from a single city. A monarch ruling an entire kingdom would naturally possess far greater wealth.

Though the true purpose of the increased taxes was to engineer a famine, the vast surplus ultimately flowed into the King's coffers.

On the throne sat an elderly king, his hair completely white and his face deeply lined with wrinkles. Upon seeing him, the Black-Robed Man immediately knelt and declared, "Your Majesty, the latest shipment of Red Earth has been delivered."

The king waved his hand dismissively. "I am aware. You have done well."

Cipher watched as the Black-Robed Man rose, backed away a few steps while still facing the king, and only turned to leave once he reached the doorway. Could he have traveled all this way just to deliver a single message?

A puzzled expression crossed Cipher's face. Were her wild speculations wrong? Was this Black-Robed Man not some mysterious manipulator swaying the king, but merely an ordinary hired enforcer? Why else would he show such profound deference?

As the Black-Robed Man departed, Cipher hesitated. Should she continue tracking him, or would it be better to follow the king instead?

While she pondered, the king slowly rose from his throne, leaning on the armrest for support. Gone was his earlier composure and regal bearing. Now hunched over, he gently patted his lower back with his right hand as he shuffled out through a side exit of the great hall.

Good heavens, Cipher finally understood. The Black-Robed Man had traveled all this way just to deliver a single message, and the King had made a special trip to the Throne just to hear it?

I admit, you looked quite imposing sitting on that Throne earlier, but now that no one's around, your wobbly exit is downright pathetic!

No wonder. The King looked ancient, and that Throne was clearly made of solid metal—unforgivingly hard. Sitting on it for too long would definitely be uncomfortable.

In the end, Cipher decided to tail the King instead. He seemed far more likely to be the mastermind behind everything than the Black-Robed Man.

Cipher followed him to what appeared to be an office: a desk, a chair, and rows of bookshelves lining the walls. The King settled at the desk, picked up a pen and paper, and began to write.

Cipher tiptoed closer, peering over his shoulder like a curious cat to see what he was writing. But... she couldn't understand a word.

It wasn't that the King's handwriting was illegible; it was an entirely different language, with its own unique script.

It's worth noting that Cipher discovered the "Common Tongue" spoken by most people in this world was English, and the written language was also English. However, specialized languages like Elven Tongue, Draconic Tongue, and Hell Tongue also existed, none of which Cipher could understand or read.

Cipher once asked Feidric, "Why is the Common Tongue like this?"

Feidric simply gave her a dumbfounded look and replied, "I thought you were already clueless, but this question surpasses even my wildest imagination. It's called the Common Tongue because everyone speaks and uses it! As for why it's like this... are you asking me why 1 + 1 equals 2? Who knows?"

Returning to the present, Cipher couldn't decipher what the King was writing. She pondered her next move, reminding herself that her mission was to scout the castle in preparation for stealing the Hell Book. With that ultimate goal in mind, she saw only two options: First, she could leave this room and thoroughly search the entire castle for the Hell Book.

This would likely be difficult. After all, it was a Divine Artifact. Logically, one would either carry it on their person or store it securely in a hidden chamber known only to a select few. Leaving aside the former, finding it through the latter would be nearly impossible unless Cipher had an extraordinary stroke of luck.

That left her with a second option: reveal herself, threaten the King, and demand the Hell Book's location. If the King had it on him, she could simply take it. If it was hidden elsewhere, she could force him to reveal its hiding place and then retrieve it.

But was this really the best course of action? If successful, Cipher would essentially speedrun this entire dungeon. But what if the King refused to yield, even unto death? Whether Cipher killed him or not, this would undoubtedly alert the entire castle, and who knew what consequences might follow?

After a moment's contemplation, Cipher resolved: "Since I'm already here, let's just go for it!"

No matter how she looked at it, the potential rewards seemed to outweigh the risks. Though this deviated sharply from her initial reconnaissance plan—her scouting trip had inexplicably morphed into an assassination attempt (?)—well... it wasn't a major problem.

Cipher took a deep breath and frantically patted herself down. Finally, she pulled out the small nail scissors she had used earlier. If she was going to threaten someone, she couldn't do it empty-handed—she needed some kind of weapon to point at them.

The scissors looked rather pathetic, but she didn't have time to be picky. Pressing the blades against the king's back, Cipher abruptly demanded, "Where's the Hell Book?!"

The king, who had been writing just moments before, froze in place, cold sweat pouring down his face. The scene was utterly terrifying.

One second he was fine, and the next, an assassin had materialized behind him, pressing a dagger to his spine. It was a miracle the king didn't have a heart condition; he might have died of fright on the spot!

Yet, as a monarch, he quickly regained his composure. "Damn it! An Empire assassin? How did you even know the Hell Book was in my possession?!"

Wh-what? The Empire? An assassin?

Cipher froze for a moment, then recalled the bloody conflict that had recently occurred outside the castle. The Imperial Commander had not only snapped a soldier's arm but had also openly revealed his identity, so the King must already know about it.

And now, just a short time later, a mysterious assassin had materialized silently behind him, threatening him and demanding information about the Hell Book. The very fact that this assassin could arrive undetected demonstrated their immense power, making a connection to the Empire seem logical.

Cipher considered her response carefully. Instead of answering directly, she deliberately quickened her pace, feigning impatience. "I'm the one asking the questions! Don't answer a question with another question!"

Had Cipher simply denied being an Imperial assassin, it would have sounded contrived. But her feigned urgency only reinforced the King's suspicions. His expression twisted into manic fervor. "I knew it! I knew this day would come!"

"You'll all regret this! You have no idea how terrifyingly powerful that Divine Artifact truly is. We're on the verge of success! I will use it to crush you all!"

The moment the King finished speaking, he vanished from Cipher's sight, replaced by the Black-Robed Man, who materialized in the King's former position.

A teleportation spell with a position-swapping effect! Of course, this was a world steeped in magic. How could a king not possess magical items for self-preservation?

Cipher, unfamiliar with magic, had no idea when the spell had been activated, leaving her helpless to stop it.

The Black-Robed Man froze briefly upon finding himself in a different location. But when he saw another 'Black-Robed Man' before him, he quickly grasped the situation. Without hesitation, he drew a thrusting sword from his waist and lunged at Cipher.

For a spellcaster to choose melee combat upon first encountering an enemy might seem absurd, but it made perfect sense for a Warlock. After all, Warlocks weren't conventional spellcasters; their magic was granted by their Patrons. It was perfectly normal for them to be skilled in close-quarters combat.

Many warlocks were originally warriors or thieves before signing their contracts. Their warlock identity is layered upon their existing skills, granting them additional spellcasting ability.

In a sense, a warlock is a "specialized class" that can be multiclassed with any other profession. However, any rational person, even if given the opportunity, would wisely decline such an offer.

The Black-Robed Man wielded his thrusting sword with astonishing speed, leaving faint afterimages in the air—clearly no novice. Yet Cipher merely stepped back half a pace, shifted a few centimeters to the left, then a few centimeters to the right, effortlessly evading every one of his attacks with these minimal adjustments.

Witnessing this, the Black-Robed Man didn't hesitate. He roared, "Fear Spell!"

A third-level spell from the Illusion School, the Fear Spell conjures a terrifying illusion of the target's deepest fear, tormenting them with terror.

The moment the spell took effect, Cipher found herself face-to-face with a colossal spider, easily over a meter tall. Its eight compound eyes stared intently at her from point-blank range. So close was the creature that she could even make out the fine white hairs covering its body. Leaning forward slightly, the spider lunged straight at her.

A giant spider leaping at her face! Even though she'd heard the spellcaster's incantation and knew it was likely a magical illusion, Cipher couldn't help but recoil in terror. In her previous life, she'd been deathly afraid of spiders, the very sight of these arthropods sending shivers down her spine and making every hair on her body stand on end.

Of course, back then, as a man, she wouldn't have screamed. Instead, she'd swiftly grab a slipper and flatten the arachnid from a three-dimensional creature into a two-dimensional smear with lightning reflexes and desperate force.

The situation was similar now. Despite the initial shock, her first instinct was to whirl around, aim for the spider's head, and unleash a spinning kick.

Bang!

The moment Cipher's heel connected with the spider's head, a cloud of blood mist erupted in the air. Of course, the spider was merely an illusion and wouldn't actually explode. Cipher had actually kicked the Black-Robed Man.

With the Fear Spell cast and his enemy paralyzed by terror, the natural instinct would be to press the advantage. The Black-Robed Man swung his thrusting sword again, aiming for Cipher's throat. But just as the blade's tip hovered inches from its target, he caught a glimpse of something golden flashing past. In that instant, his entire right arm vanished in a crimson spray!

His face contorted in horror, his eyes widening into startled ovals. "Wh-what... what is this?!"

PS: Among the three magic-based classes—Wizards, Sorcerers, and Warlocks—only Wizards require both incantations and hand gestures to cast spells. Unlike the Sorcerers and Warlocks, who inherit their spellcasting ability or gain it through pacts, Wizards rely solely on their own intelligence and diligent study to unravel the world's truths and derive magical power from them.